#'cause they have that whole thing about the sky

[hrrtshape]

hi lovely!! i literally screamed when i saw the post of you shifting, you're my beyoncé. anyway, cause you've experienced shifting for long periods of time (15 days🥳) , does it ever feel like you have imposter syndrome / feeling out of place while you're there?? or like there's an impending doom for when you'll come back? i'm sorry this is terribly worded idk how to express my own fears of this 😵‍💫 did you feel as though you belonged? like it was yours completely? maybe i'm just overthinking but that feeling is a fear of mine. thank you!! (btw i'm thrilled for you!!) 💋 💋

fifteen days of silk & then a faceplant into the pavement. AKA my adjustment period.

it’s the morning after after, and i am back. back where? back here. alright. i���m back. ta-da. curtain drop. applause. except no one is clapping, and i don’t have the grace to bow. i woke up, and the ceiling wasn’t mine. the sheets weren’t mine. the air wasn’t the same expensive, citrine-tinged, cocktail-laced kind of air that had been curling in my lungs for two weeks. and i, hypocritical sucker that i am, had the nerve to be shocked about it.

i mean, sure. i knew it was coming. you don’t get to play house with a world that isn’t your baseline forever. but the thing is, i didn’t leave on purpose. i didn’t wake up with some cinematic, soft-focus farewell to my penthouse and my perfect cheekbones and my whole life of rich-girl ease. i got bpd'ed out of there. i had a moment, no, a stroke, full collapse, full-sent spiral. and the next thing I knew, i was here, in this reality, where my skin feels like it's on a half-second delay and my body doesn't move quite right.

fifteen days. the number sits heavy on my tongue for a reason. a reality where i belonged in the way that swans belong to lakes. without question, without effort, slipping into the water as if it were their own reflection. my existence hummed in sync with the great, golden machine of my cr, and yet. and yet.

did i ever feel out of place? i don’t think out of place is the right word. it wasn’t a foreignness, not an exile, more like standing in a room where you know every guest, yet you catch your own reflection and flinch. who is she? the one with pearls at her throat, ease in her fingertips, a name that opens doors before it’s even fully spoken. she is me. she was me. she was me for fifteen days, and then i blinked, and she is somewhere else, still living, still breathing, still slipping into taxis and tilting her chin in the golden hour light.

and yeah. it stings. a lot. like falling out of a dream where someone loved you exactly right, only to wake up and realise your phone is on 2%, your bank account is a joke, and the best thing in your fridge is an almost-empty bottle of soy milk. i spent fifteen days in a world where i never had to check my bank account because obviously i was wealthy, and now i have to talk myself down from a full-fledged existential crisis just because i blinked and lost it.

so, do i feel like it was ever really mine? and the answer is: yes, yes, of course, yes. i don’t care what reality says. i belonged there like my name was engraved on the buildings. i had favourite cafés, i had people, i had a version of myself so polished and effortless she felt inevitable. i belonged there in the way that clouds belong to the sky, like obviously, what else would i be doing?

and yet. and yet !!!!

i woke up here. which means what? that this reality wins by default? that i’m supposed to accept it, tuck myself back into it like an old sweater, pretend like my body doesn’t feel like it got kicked out of the garden of eden for crying too hard? i don’t know. i don’t know. what i do know is that the transition is brutal, and i miss myself. i miss the version of me that didn’t have to think about belonging, because she just did. i miss the feeling of it, the seamlessness, the way my life there was perfectly hemmed to fit me.

but i won’t lie. i woke up today, and for a split second, i expected the skyline to still be waiting for me. i expected to turn my head on the pillow and see the drape of new york twilight against a window that was mine. instead, i saw this world, my room, this life. it took me a breath, a deep one, the kind that scalds the lungs, to remember that i belong everywhere i have ever been. the city does not crumble because i have left it. it remembers me. it holds my laughter in its pavements, my perfume in the folds of its air. i will return. i will always return.

maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but eventually. and when i do, i’ll stay longer. i’ll land softer. i’ll make sure the next time i wake up, it’s because i decided to.

[hyperions-light]

@uchidachi requested I do this one, and now that the activity around it has calmed down a bit, I thought it’d be fun!

I’ve briefly considered this topic before, but thinking about it for longer I’m pretty sure that if Lucanis or Neve brought this up (lbr here, it’d be Lucanis) it would start a fight lol

Marriage sounds like it involves a whole bunch of things Leth doesn’t like such as

-rules

-legal proceedings

-interacting with authority figures

-politics

However, they do love parties and wearing fancy clothes, so it has that going for it.

Putting the rest under the cut, bc long lol

But I think ultimately the idea would kind of freak them out, because then like… what about Teia and Viago? They have a weird situationship going on that they don’t want to give up or have to think too hard about, and marriage might complicate it. Being freaked out would immediately cause them to start an argument, and then they’d probably run away and hide for some amount of time. (Leth’s instincts always say: fight until you can run, run until you can hide)

If they were eventually convinced (hard but not impossible) it would have to be a wedding where all three of them get married, because they'd think it was unfair, otherwise.

And then probably Lucanis would regret his decision because it would turn into the biggest, most elaborate party in the history of Treviso. Leth has never even met half of the people who show up. Teia is over the moon because any wild, extravagant thing she suggests Leth will enthusiastically cosign. Everyone is invited. EVERYONE. It should be a huge security risk because so many Talons (and the Black Divine and the Archon) are in the same place at once but everyone is so heavily armed it would be suicide to attack them. They probably ask Solas if he and Lavellan want to stop holding the sky together briefly so they can come too. Yes, the necromancers can bring the Necropolis skeletons. Of course Vorgoth is invited! Tell uncle Eldrin to bring the griffons!

Probably the only thing that Leth would actually debate with Teia about is clothes. They don't want to wear a dress (they aren't as good at stabbing people in them. What if they have to stab someone?), they want NEVE to wear a dress. There is a LOT of debating back and forth about color schemes and fabrics and tailoring. I think it's like Divine Conclave level serious; Teia and Leth are locked in a room for a week and everyone else goes in and out periodically looking utterly exhausted. They figure it out eventually, though. They find the right shades of purple and turquoise so that everything looks cohesive.

I think the biggest Issue with the wedding is probably politics. There's the Crow house alliance to worry about, which Viago would get huffy over, and there's Caterina. Viago is very convinced that if Leth is around Caterina for any substantive period of time, they are going to annoy her into killing them, so he's spent a lot of time impressing on them that they should stay tf away from her. But she's going to be their grandmother-in-law now! There's probably a lot of traditions to fulfill, like formal meetings and interviews and evaluations and dinners which will stress Lucanis out! Leth endures it with uncomfortable bemusement. They only irritate Caterina a moderate amount-- she definitely whacks them with that cane at least once. It's fine, though! Leth likes grumpy people and is good at dodging.

I think the celebration is like... Carnival or Mardi Gras, essentially. It lasts a week, no one leaves when they're supposed to, everyone is horribly inebriated. They need healers because the Lords of Fortune tried to play their drinking game in the canals and got sick immediately. People show up late; they go and come back and somehow the party is still happening. Lucanis, Neve and Viago definitely tap out at some point-- meanwhile, Teia, Illario, Isabela, and Leth are having an amazing time! It's sort of also a party to celebrate the apocalypse being averted?

I think Taash would make it through the whole time, Davrin would last a while but he has to do Griffon Wrangling eventually. Emmrich is out after like day two. Manfred would stay the whole time. Bel would have fun but I think she would get burned out on it eventually. I think all the faction leaders show at some point, but they also either 1) have stuff to do 2) do NOT want to spend a week in the middle of this chaos, so I think probably by the end it's just Teia and Isabela left.

Leth brings some of Harding's fade plants to decorate the venue and hand-delivers an invitation to Harding's mom. They order a barrel of that nasty shit they serve in the Hanged Man, and pour one out for Varric-- maybe Bianca sneaks in there at some point. There's probably a dramatic reading of Varric's least favorite book, just so Leth can annoy him in the afterlife.

I think it ends up sort of cathartic for everyone? Like, the wedding is why they come, but everyone needs to unwind from all the terrible shit that happened.

I think the actually romantic part is probably after, during the honeymoon. They just go somewhere quiet and isolated where Leth can make sure their two workaholic partners do absolutely nothing productive for two uninterrupted weeks. Treviso and Docktown will be okay without them, for a minute-- Viago and Elek promised.

Also after that Leth is bringing Lucanis and Neve to meet their clan, because they don't live with them anymore, but that doesn't mean they aren't important. Maybe the quiet, sincere version of the ceremony happens there, with nobody else around? And Leth is bullying them into matching tattoos, which they will do themself.

Hey, hope you all had a good weekend! Unfortunately, it’s Monday =/ Fortunately, it’s time for Rook Intro Hour! 🍀🌺🌼🌸

How it works: I ask you a question about your Rook(s) and you answer it with as much brevity or verbosity as you desire. You can do this whenever you want, and I’ll reblog it + add some comments! There’s no time limit— if you want to do the older ones, they are collected here! (The post is updated on Fridays!)

Today’s Question(s): Does your Rook want to get married to their LI(s)? Do they care about where? Is there a specific tradition/traditions they want to follow, when they do? Who would they invite? What would they wear?

Have fun & thanks for sharing!

[soluversworld]

Bound by Tears, Held by Love- Solivan Brugmansia x Yan! G.N Reader (Smut!)

The kid at the back is a 18+ visual novel Minors don’t interact!-

Words: 16000

Genre: Yandere- Reader is same from the Sol series I wrote!!

(Reader is G.N)-(This one-shot is nsfw!)

Summary : After a long day, For some reason, Sol didn’t come to class today. You missed him terribly! You meet him again? After a nice bath with him ? Will he you make feel better? <3

TW/CW: Mentions of marking, Manipulation, Slight pet-play, Dirty talks, Yandere Y/n and Solivan Brugmansia , Toxic relationship, Unhealthy relationship, Edging turned overstimulation, Suggestive, Manipulation, obsessive behavior, unhealthy relationships/feelings, Clingy, Manipulation, Jealous, Both Reader and Sol are submissive-dominant at one point each, oral sex, rough handling, and marking/branding with bites. It may also touch on themes of possessiveness, dominance.

In short,

Content Warning: This one-shot will contain explicit sexual themes, graphic descriptions of intimate acts, and strong language. It may not be suitable for all audiences.

Please proceed with caution if these triggers could cause distress. If you experience any discomfort

The day had started like any other, but it quickly spiraled into a mess you hadn’t expected. Sol wasn’t at university today. You’d noticed right away—the lack of his subtle smiles, the absence of his quiet presence trailing just a little too close for comfort. It wasn’t until you received a text from him, right as you arrived, that the weight of his absence truly hit.

“Busy today. Don’t wait for me. Be good, pumpkin.”

The message had felt colder than usual, even if he added his usual nickname for you. There wasn’t time to dwell on it, though, because Deryl had immediately intercepted you, going on about how you needed to talk to Crowe. Something about sorting things out, making things right. But you couldn’t—didn’t. Crowe was always so understanding, so kind, and deep down, you felt like you didn’t deserve to lean on him anymore.

Instead, you spent time with Hyugo, grateful for the distraction. His bubbly energy kept things light, even as you carried the weight of your emotions silently. He’d thanked you again for helping him keep his family off his back, allowing him to do what he loved without their interference. Hyugo was a good soul, and you were glad you could be there for him. But as the hours passed, he too had to leave, off to his mysterious errands.

This part of lore is locked <3

Alone now, you wandered aimlessly, the campus feeling too big and too empty without Sol. You thought about your friendship with Crowe, about how things had unfolded. You hadn’t meant to hurt Sol, but it was clear now that your closeness with Crowe had struck a nerve. Sol had always been possessive in his quiet, brooding way, and you’d been too caught up in your own thoughts to notice. He will kill him.

If he kills Crowe.

You would kill him.

You felt like a terrible person. Guilty. Torn. You’d never meant to make him jealous or sad, but you were delusional about the whole situation. You’d let your feelings and uncertainties cloud your judgment. And now, you were left with this gnawing ache, the realization that you’d hurt the one person who always tried so hard to be there for you.

The sky opened up, rain pouring down in heavy sheets. At first, you welcomed it—maybe it would cleanse the suffocating guilt weighing on your chest. But then the tears started, mingling with the rain as they slid down your cheeks. The world around you blurred, and you were thankful no one could see you like this.

The rain might have hidden your tears, but it couldn’t hide the pain. Not from yourself.

The rain fell like a curtain of sorrow, soaking through to the bone, but you barely felt it. Each step homeward was heavy, burdened by a tempest within. The air was thick with the smell of rain on pavement, a melancholy symphony of muted taps and sighs. Your clothes clung to your skin, hair plastered against your face, as if the storm itself sought to keep you captive to your despair.

From the shadows, unseen by your drenched and wandering gaze, Crowe lingered. His dark eyes followed your figure, his usual calm replaced by something raw and unspoken. Beside him, Deryl nudged his arm, his voice low and insistent, “Go. Give it to them. Say something.”

Brittney and Jess, ever the voices of gentle encouragement, echoed Deryl’s sentiment. Crowe exhaled, the weight of their words pushing him toward resolve. He took the umbrella in hand, its promise of shelter feeling heavier than its frame. Slowly, he stepped forward, his polished shoes splashing through shallow puddles.

Yet he stopped.

It wasn’t hesitation that froze him, but the sight that awaited him just ahead. You had paused, your head bowed, lashes fluttering closed against the rain’s assault. A moment of peace amidst the chaos. And then, as if conjured by some unspoken wish, there he stood—Sol.

His silhouette emerged from the haze of rain, an umbrella poised like an offering, a silent guardian come to reclaim his place by your side. Your eyes opened, catching sight of him, and Crowe saw it—the transformation. The way your sorrow melted into joy, the way your lips curved into something radiant, unburdened.

A laugh escaped you, light and unrestrained, and before Crowe could comprehend it, you had flung yourself into Sol’s arms. The man caught you as if it were the most natural thing in the world, his embrace firm yet tender, his hand cradling the back of your head as if you were something precious.

Crowe’s breath caught. For a moment, his grip on the umbrella tightened, knuckles pale against its dark handle. But then, as your laughter rang out again, he forced himself to smile. A smile forged from steel, brittle at its edges, but sincere in its core. You were happy. That was enough. It had to be enough.

You were happy with Mr Brugmansia.

Sol’s gaze lifted then, catching sight of Crowe standing just beyond your bubble of bliss. Sol’s eyes were cold, darkened by the storm, and Crowe felt the weight of his disdain like a physical blow. But Crowe, ever the gentleman, merely inclined his head, a gesture of quiet acknowledgment.

Sol, however, looked away, his jaw tight. To him, Crowe was a specter, a name he hated to utter—Ichabod, the shadow that lingered too close to you for comfort. Sol held you tighter, burying his face in your damp hair as if to remind himself, and you, who truly held your heart.

And so, Crowe turned, his shoes splashing once more through the puddles as he retreated into the rain. The umbrella remained unopened in his hand, its purpose unfulfilled. He carried it as a memento of a chance unclaimed, a reminder of the moment he realized the truth.

You were someone else’s.

But as Crowe disappeared into the storm, the sound of your laughter lingered, like the faintest chime of a distant bell. And for that, he smiled once more, his heart both heavy and light.

He was happy, you were..happy.

The rain cascaded around you, creating a private world where the rest of the universe ceased to exist. You squealed in delight, clutching Sol tighter, your wet clothes making the embrace all the more intimate. Sol’s faint smile deepened, though his cheeks flushed a soft pink that reached to the tips of his ears.

“Did you miss me that much?” he murmured, his voice low, almost teasing.

You pulled back just enough to look at him, your fingers lightly brushing his damp hair from his face. “Of course I missed you! What kind of question is that?” you teased, your tone playful yet edged with sincerity.

Sol’s blush deepened, and he turned his face away, his free hand gripping the umbrella handle tightly. “I… I didn’t mean to stay away. I… If you’re mad, I—” He hesitated, his voice cracking slightly as his gaze found yours again. There was something almost desperate in the way his soft orange eyes searched yours, as though afraid he’d ruined something precious.

“Pumpkin, how… How would I make it up to you?” he asked, the pet name spilling from his lips with a rawness that made your heart flutter.

You couldn’t help it. His flustered expression, his genuine guilt—it was all so endearing. Before he could ramble further, you wrapped your arms around him again, burying your face in his chest. His heart thundered beneath your ear, and you smiled against him.

“You don’t have to make anything up, silly,” you whispered, your voice muffled but laced with affection. Tilting your head up, you pressed a soft kiss to his jawline, lingering just enough to feel him stiffen in surprise. “I’m just so happy to see you, Sol. That’s all that matters.”

The kiss made him freeze for a moment, his wide eyes darting to meet yours. Then, as if the realization of your closeness hit him all at once, he turned away again, his ears burning. “Y-You’re going to kill me,” he muttered, though his lips curved into a shaky smile.

But you weren’t done yet. Your mischievous streak took over, and you decided to lean into his adoration just a little more. With a playful pout, you clasped your hands behind your back and tilted your head, letting the rain streak down your face.

“You know,” you said, your voice teasing, “I could still be mad. Maybe you need to try a little harder to make me forgive you…”

Sol’s eyes snapped back to you, and for a split second, something flickered in his gaze—possessive, intense, and entirely Sol. His blush didn’t fade, but his grip on the umbrella tightened as he leaned slightly closer, his wet hair casting shadows over his face.

“What would it take, pumpkin?” he asked, his voice lower, almost velvety, as if he were daring you to push him further.

Your heart skipped a beat, but instead of backing down, you stepped closer, closing the already narrow gap between you. With a playful laugh, you brushed your fingers against his chest, looking up at him with wide, innocent eyes.

Your heart skipped a beat, but instead of backing down, you stepped closer, closing the already narrow gap between you. With a playful laugh, you brushed your fingers against his chest, looking up at him with wide, innocent eyes.

“Hm… Maybe I’ll tell you if you promise not to disappear on me again,” you said coyly.

Sol’s expression softened, his gaze melting into something utterly smitten. “I promise,” he murmured, the sincerity in his voice making your chest tighten.

For a moment, the rain and the world around you disappeared again, leaving only the two of you standing there, drenched but completely lost in each other. Sol reached out, tucking a strand of wet hair behind your ear, his touch featherlight. His lips parted as though to speak, but instead, he just smiled—soft, adoring, and completely yours.

The rain had slowed to a gentle drizzle by the time you and Sol began your walk home together. You clung to him, your arms looped around one of his, leaning so close your head brushed the curve of his neck. Sol stiffened for a moment, his breath hitching audibly, but he didn’t move away. If anything, he seemed to relax into your touch, a faint smile tugging at his lips despite the blush creeping up his cheeks.

You could feel his pulse quicken under your cheek, and it made your heart flutter. He liked this—you knew he did. The way his fingers tightened ever so slightly on the umbrella handle gave him away. Sol might have been soft-spoken and shy, but there was no hiding how much he adored you.

“You know…” you began, your voice playful and light as you tilted your head to glance up at him. “You’re really cute when you blush like that.”

Sol’s steps faltered, and he let out a soft, embarrassed laugh. “I-I’m not…” he murmured, his voice trailing off as he tried to glance at you but failed to meet your gaze. His blush deepened, and he looked away, biting his lip.

You leaned in closer, your cheek brushing against his damp collarbone as you smiled mischievously. “Oh, but you are,” you teased, your voice dropping to a whisper. “And I think you like when I say it.”

He didn’t deny it. Instead, he let out a shaky breath, his free hand twitching at his side as though he wanted to hold you closer but didn’t quite dare to.

The idea of pushing him further made your heart race, not out of cruelty but because you loved seeing this side of him—the side that was so completely wrapped around you, so utterly devoted and vulnerable. And if you were honest, you liked knowing just how deeply he wanted you, how much he was willing to unravel for you.

“Hey, Sol?” you said suddenly, your voice light and cheerful as though the tension from moments ago had evaporated.

“Hm?” he hummed, glancing at you with those soft, doe-like eyes, still tinted with hesitation.

“Let’s hang out at your place,” you said brightly, tugging on his arm like a child asking for a treat. “We’ve never done that before, right? And it’s only fair since you already know my house so well…”

Your grin widened at the way his eyes widened, his face going from pink to a deep crimson in an instant. He opened his mouth to say something—probably an attempt to deny or explain his little habit of keeping tabs on you—but all that came out was a soft, incoherent sound as he averted his gaze again.

You giggled, delighted by his reaction, and grabbed his hand, interlacing your fingers with his. “It’s fine, Sol,” you said, your voice teasing but reassuring. “I don’t mind. Actually, I think it’s kind of sweet.”

“Sweet?” he echoed, his voice barely above a whisper. His grip on your hand tightened, as though afraid you’d slip away if he didn’t hold on.

“Yeah,” you said with a shrug, swinging his hand slightly as you walked. “You care about me so much. I like that about you. You’re always thinking about me, even when I don’t know it.”

His steps slowed, and he glanced at you with an intensity that made your breath hitch. For a moment, you thought he might say something, but instead, he just smiled—a small, soft smile that held a hint of something deeper, something darker.

You felt your heart race, and the realization hit you like a jolt of electricity: you wanted this. You wanted his obsession, his unrelenting need to be near you, to protect you, to make you his. It was intoxicating, the way he looked at you like you were his entire world.

As you reached the edge of the neighborhood, you tugged on his hand again, pulling him along as you skipped ahead. “Come on, Sol! Don’t look so serious,” you said with a laugh, turning to grin at him. “I’m happy to be with you. Isn’t that enough?”

He blinked, his expression softening as his blush returned. “Y-Yeah,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “It’s more than enough.”

But you could see it in his eyes—the unspoken promise, the depth of his feelings.

Sol wasn’t just happy to be with you; he was complete with you.

You love that about him don’t you?

Maybe god loves you to keep out of your delusional thoughts.

Suddenly,

The sound of the car speeding by echoed through the street, its tires splashing through a puddle with reckless abandon. Before you could even react, mud splashed across your clothes, the brown sludge staining your uniform. A scream escaped you, frustration and annoyance bubbling up as you wiped at your drenched clothing.

“FUCK YOU, CAR DRIVER!” you shouted, your voice carrying through the rain, though your words didn’t seem to make any difference to the speeding vehicle.

You huffed, feeling a little defeated, and looked down at your ruined clothes. “Ugh, this was my main one,” you muttered to yourself, trying to rub at the stains, but it was no use. Your frustration didn’t last long, though, because Sol was already by your side, his worried gaze soft and focused on you.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice surprisingly concerned, but there was a hint of amusement in his eyes that made you pause.

You looked up at him, still damp from the rain and the mud, and his lips were curving into a grin that made you roll your eyes. “What now?” you snapped, shaking your arms in frustration, but it only made him laugh even more.

His laugh was soft and melodic, the kind of sound that made your heart flutter despite the annoyance you were feeling. “You’re so cute when you’re mad,” he said, wiping a tear from his eye as he tried to suppress his laughter.

Your face heated up at his words, and before you could even stop yourself, you let out a loud, flustered kyaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa that was far too loud for the public setting. You nearly died from embarrassment, the sound escaping your lips before you could catch it.

But before you could even think about what was happening, you found yourself leaping at Sol, your hands cupping his face as you kissed him right in the middle of the street, the rain still coming down around you.

His surprised gasp was the only thing you heard before you melted into him, your lips moving against his with a newfound urgency. The entire world around you disappeared, and all you could think about was him—his warmth, his sweetness, the way he smelled like rain and something uniquely him.

Sol, though still caught off guard, didn’t pull away. Instead, he seemed to fall into the kiss with you, his arms wrapping around your waist as he pulled you closer. He was blushing furiously, his hands trembling slightly as he held you against him.

“You’re so cute…” he muttered between kisses, his voice strained with emotion as he kept his hands tightly on you.

You pulled away for a brief second to catch your breath, your chest heaving as you looked at him. His face was still flushed, but the joy in his eyes made your heart race.

“I can’t help it,” you whispered, a little breathless from the kiss. “You’re just too cute, Sol.”

Sol’s smile was so soft, so genuine, and in that moment….

You both walked into his apartment, the warmth from the inside contrasted sharply with the cold, damp air clinging to your clothes. You could feel the wet fabric clinging to your skin, making you wince slightly, but your attention was focused entirely on Sol. You couldn’t help but apologize for the mess you’d made. “I’m sorry about ruining your apartment,” you murmured softly, trying to keep your voice light.

Sol looked at you, his expression softening, and with a little tilt of his head, he replied, “It’s fine, pumpkin,” his voice gentle but filled with warmth. “I’ll make some soup for you. Go take a bath and relax.” He paused, clearly concerned for your well-being.

But you shook your head quickly, stubborn as ever. “No, I’m fine. I don’t need it.” You huffed, folding your arms in a little pout, looking at him with a half-hearted glare.

Sol raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by your refusal. “Are you sure? You’re wet, too.” He glanced down at you and then his own drenched clothes, his eyes flicking back up to meet yours. “It’s not a good idea to stay like this.”

You hesitated for a moment, then an idea popped into your head. Smirking mischievously, you stepped closer to him. “I’m not the only one who’s wet.” You tugged at the hem of his shirt, pulling it just enough to expose the tight muscles beneath.

Sol was caught off guard, stumbling forward slightly as the shirt pulled and he nearly fell into you. His face was suddenly inches from your chest, and his breath hitched, caught in a mix of surprise and something much more heated. You held him close, your arms wrapping around him, the warmth of your body soothing the chill that still lingered on his skin.

He was so cute in that moment, face flushed and body stiff, but still allowing you to hold him. He almost whined, the softness of his voice barely a whisper as he murmured, “Y-You’re… so close…” His chest rose and fell with every shaky breath he took, clearly affected by how close you were.

You couldn’t help but smile at his reaction, feeling a sense of triumph as he melted into your touch. He was usually so calm, so composed, but now, he was so vulnerable. It was almost as if you held the power to break down his walls completely. The way he whimpered, the way his face flushed with embarrassment—he was so cute.

“You’re so adorable, Sol,” you whispered into his ear, squeezing him tighter. “I’m not going anywhere.”

His eyes fluttered shut, a small, contented sigh escaping his lips. “I… I know,” he murmured faintly, his voice soft but full of warmth. “You’re mine…”

You smiled softly, leaning in to kiss his forehead.

You could feel the tension between you and Sol, the air thick with an intensity that was both intoxicating and thrilling. His shyness, his hesitation—everything about him right now was exactly how you wanted him to be. The way he leaned into your touch, the warmth of his body pressed against yours, the way his eyes sparkled with confusion and admiration—it was all so perfect. Your heart raced, your thoughts dizzying with the thought of him.

You smiled softly, your gaze locking onto his as you saw the way his pupils dilated, his breath quickening ever so slightly. There was a flicker in his eyes, something almost desperate, and that only made you want to drive him wild with even more affection. You needed to make him fall harder.

Leaning forward, you brushed your lips against his cheek softly, just a light kiss, then moved to his other cheek, and his jaw, kissing him in soft, slow motions, letting the intensity of each kiss linger. You could feel the heat radiating from his body, his pulse quickening in a way that only spurred your actions further.

His breath hitched, a tiny whimper escaping his lips as you pulled away for just a moment. His eyes were wide, pupils dilated with a mixture of longing and hesitation, and you couldn’t help but smile, the thrill of seeing him like this making your heart race.

“I think you like this, don’t you?” you whispered, teasing him as you gently cupped his face, feeling the warmth of his skin against your fingertips. You kissed him again, this time on his lips, more fervently than before. Your lips moved against his with a feverish hunger, wanting to consume every ounce of him.

He couldn’t stop himself from groaning softly into the kiss, his hands finding their way to your waist, pulling you even closer, his body trembling. His fingers flexed with barely contained desire, but it wasn’t just desire—it was obsession. You could see it in the way his grip tightened, in the way he held onto you like you were the only thing that mattered in this world.

Sol was obsessed—you knew it, and now he was helpless to hide it.

With every kiss you planted on his face, you felt him unravel just a little more. He was no longer the stoic, controlled man you had known. He was yours, body and soul. And you, oh, you were going to make sure he stayed that way.

His face flushed even more, his expression dazed, his eyes half-lidded with a love so deep, it almost seemed like it was suffocating him. His breathing was shallow, and his lips trembled as he tried to form words, but they only came out as a soft, desperate mumble, “Y-You’re… everything. Don’t leave me… please.”

Your lips curled into a slow smile, satisfied with how easily he was slipping into your grasp. You kissed him once more, this time lingering on his lips a little longer, before pulling back just enough to look into his eyes. Those eyes—those sweet, heart-shaped eyes—were all for you. Completely for you.

“I’m not going anywhere, Sol,” you murmured against his lips. “You’re mine. And I’ll never let you go. I’ll make sure of that.”

His grip on you tightened, his heart pounding as he pulled you into a desperate kiss once more.

You smiled softly, knowing you had him right where you wanted him—lost in his obsession, lost in you. And there was no going back now.

The bathroom was warm, steam curling in the air and soft droplets of water trickling down from the walls. You sat on the edge of the tub, a towel loosely draped around your body, watching Sol as he leaned back into the shallow water. His hair clung to his forehead, his cheeks faintly pink from the heat, and his shoulders glistened with droplets. For once, the usually put-together Sol looked vulnerable, stripped bare in more ways than one.

Your eyes wandered to his neck—the spot where his choker usually rested. Without it, the faint bruises and marks stood out on his skin Body, and your heart gave a quiet lurch. They were like shadows of something darker, and while you had questions—so many questions—you held them back. Sol was complex, his past layered with secrets, and you knew better than to push. What mattered wasn’t what the bruises meant, but that they were his. They were a part of him, and you adored every piece of Sol, scars and all.

Sol shifted under your gaze, his movements subtle but telling. He had noticed you looking. His fingers flexed against the tub’s edge, his posture tightening slightly as though he were bracing himself. “What?” he murmured, his voice quiet but tinged with nervousness. “You’ve been staring.”

You tilted your head and smiled, your expression soft and reassuring. “Just admiring you,” you said simply, your tone light but warm enough to wash away any tension that might’ve been building.

He huffed, averting his eyes, his face turning red. “Admiring?” He sounded skeptical, almost incredulous. “I look like a mess.”

You stood, your towel swishing softly as you approached the tub. “You always say that,” you teased gently, kneeling beside him. “And yet, somehow, you keep being wrong.”

He didn’t reply, though you caught the way his lips twitched like he was holding back a smile. His eyes darted to yours briefly, searching, before quickly looking away again. That was just like him—always reluctant to let you see how much your words affected him.

Your gaze fell to his body again. The bruises were darker up close, scattered unevenly along his skin. Some were fading, others still there, and your heart ached at the thought of what might’ve caused them. But as much as you hated the idea of him being hurt, you refused to let it overshadow the truth: bruises or not, Sol was beautiful. Every mark on his skin, every imperfection, every flaw—they were all his.

Reaching out slowly, you let your fingertips brush against his neck, featherlight. Sol tensed immediately, his eyes snapping to yours in alarm. “What are you—”

You silenced him with a kiss, your lips pressing softly against the corner of his mouth. It wasn’t about stopping his words; it was about showing him that there was nothing to fear. Your lips moved to his cheek, then his jaw, each kiss tender and unhurried. And then, finally, you kissed his neck, right over..

Don’t talk about it? It would hurt him.

Sol jolted, a sharp gasp escaping him as his hand flew up to your shoulder, not to push you away but to steady himself. His eyes were wide, his lips parted in shock, and you could feel the way his body trembled slightly under your touch. “W-What are you doing?” he whispered, his voice barely audible, shaky with something that wasn’t quite fear but wasn’t quite anything else either.

You didn’t answer. Instead, you kissed another bruise, and then another, your lips trailing softly along his neck. Each time, his reaction was the same—a quiet hitch of breath, a faint shiver, a look in his eyes that was equal parts bewildered and entranced. He didn’t stop you, though. If anything, his grip on your shoulder tightened, as if anchoring himself to you.

When you finally pulled back, your eyes met his, and you smiled. It wasn’t a teasing smile, nor was it one of pity. It was simply you, looking at him with all the warmth and love you could muster. “You’re beautiful, Sol,” you said softly, your voice steady and sincere. “Every part of you.”

His face crumpled slightly, his expression caught between disbelief and something far more vulnerable. “You… don’t care?” he asked, his voice so small it was almost a whisper.

You frowned, tilting your head. “Care about what?”

“The bruises, The-” he said, his hand moving to cover his neck instinctively. “They’re ugly, aren’t they? They make me look…”

“Human,” you finished for him, cutting off whatever self-deprecating thought was about to leave his lips. You reached out, gently prying his hand away from his neck and holding it in yours. “They make you look human. And I love that. I love you. Bruises, scars, everything. It’s you Sol.“

He stared at you, his eyes wide and glassy, like he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. Then, slowly, his lips curved into the faintest smile—a real one, not the awkward, forced grins he sometimes used to deflect. This smile was soft, genuine, and so filled with emotion that it made your chest ache.

“You’re… unbelievable,” he murmured, his voice thick with something you couldn’t quite place. He shook his head, his wet hair clinging to his forehead, and let out a soft laugh. “How do you do that?”

“Do what?” you asked, your tone playful as you leaned in closer.

“Make me fall for you all over again,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, all you could do was look at him, your chest swelling with so much love it felt like it might burst. Then, without a word, you leaned in and kissed him again, your lips moving against his with a tenderness that spoke louder than any words ever could.

Sol melted into the kiss, his hand coming up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing softly against your skin. When you finally pulled away, his eyes were hazy, his expression dazed but utterly content.

You leaned down, your breath ghosting over his skin, and kissed one softly. Sol tensed beneath you, his muscles twitching under your touch, and you smiled to yourself. He was so easy to unravel, and you loved it.

Your lips moved lower, trailing over the bruises with deliberate care, each kiss a whisper of devotion. But your movements weren’t entirely selfless—there was a dark satisfaction in watching him squirm, in hearing the soft gasps and shaky breaths he couldn’t suppress. You wanted him to need you, to crave you, to be as lost in you as you were in him.

“Y-You’re—ah—doing this on purpose,” Sol stammered, his voice trembling as his hand gripped the edge of the towel wrapped around his waist. His face was flushed, his breath uneven, and you could see the way he was struggling to hold himself together.

You didn’t answer. Instead, you kissed another bruise, just above his hip, and felt the way his body shivered in response. Your mind was swimming with thoughts—dark, possessive thoughts about how much you wanted him to belong to you entirely. Not just his body, but his mind, his heart, his soul. You wanted to consume him, to make him forget anything else existed but you.

But then, suddenly, he moved. Before you could react, Sol sat up and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a tight embrace. The abruptness of it snapped you out of your spiraling thoughts, and for a moment, all you could do was sit there, stunned, as he buried his face against your shoulder.

“Thank you,” he murmured, his voice muffled but heavy with emotion. “Thank you for… accepting me.”

His words hit you like a wave, washing over the darker corners of your mind and leaving something softer in their wake. You blinked, your hands instinctively moving to rest against his back as his grip on you tightened. He was trembling slightly, and you realized that this wasn’t just a hug—it was a lifeline.

“I… I’ve always hated these,” Sol admitted, his voice quiet but raw. “The bruises, the scars… Every bruise was worth it. I thought… I thought when you see them would think I was… ” His voice cracked on the last word, and you felt your chest tighten painfully.

You didn’t say anything, but your arms tightened around him, your hand moving in slow, soothing circles over his back. He sighed, the sound shaky but relieved, and pulled back just enough to look at you. His eyes were glassy, his expression vulnerable in a way that made your heart ache.

“But you don’t see me like that,” he continued, his voice steadier now. “You don’t treat me like I’m… less because of them. And that means more to me than I can ever say.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, and for a moment, you felt like you couldn’t breathe. You’d always known Sol had his own darkness, his own pain, but hearing it laid bare like this was almost too much. And yet, at the same time, it made you love him even more—not just the parts of him that were easy to love, but the parts that were messy and complicated and broken.

But that scared you. Because as much as you loved his obsessive side, as much as you reveled in the way he clung to you, you were terrified of falling for him completely. Fully. You weren’t sure you could handle that—weren’t sure what it would mean if you did.

Sol was watching you, his gaze searching, and you forced yourself to smile, leaning in to kiss his ear softly. The reaction was instant—he gasped, his body jerking slightly as his hands tightened on your waist. “Y-You can’t just—” he started, but his words were cut off as you kissed him again, this time lower, just below his ear.

“You’re so easy to kill with affection.” you murmured, your voice low but tinged with teasing affection. His cheeks turned an even deeper shade of red, and you couldn’t help but smile.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the only sound in the room the faint drip of water from the faucet. Then, quietly, you mumbled, “Thank you.”

Sol blinked, clearly caught off guard. “What?” he asked, his tone soft but curious.

You pulled back slightly, meeting his gaze, and smiled again. “Thank you for existing,” you said simply. And then, before he could respond, you pressed a soft kiss to his lips, cutting off any words he might’ve tried to say.

Sol didn’t speak again after that. He didn’t need to. The way he held you, the way he looked at you—

The bathwater rippled softly as you guided Sol to sit down in front of you, his towel still loosely draped around his waist. He obeyed without hesitation, his long hair cascading down his back like a silken curtain. His trust in you was absolute, and it made your heart race in the quiet intimacy of the moment. The thought of him being so compliant, so willing to let you care for him, stirred something darkly possessive within you.

With a gentleness that belied the turmoil in your chest, you reached for the shampoo, pouring a generous amount into your hands before running your fingers through his damp hair. Sol sighed softly at the sensation, leaning into your touch as you worked the lather through his locks. His hair was thick and slightly tangled from the water, but you didn’t mind. In fact, you relished every second of it—each tangle you smoothed out felt like another piece of him you were unraveling, another part of him that was undeniably yours.

Your fingers massaged his scalp, his body relaxed further, his shoulders slumping slightly as a soft sigh escaped his lips. The sound was so sweet, so achingly tender, that it sent a thrill through you. You leaned forward without thinking, pressing a kiss to his forehead. His skin was warm beneath your lips, and he made a small, almost contented noise in response. It was domestic in a way you hadn’t expected, and the realization made your chest tighten.

You could feel your thoughts beginning to spiral again, the possessiveness bubbling up as you watched him sit there so obediently, so sweetly. Sol wasn’t just letting you care for him—he was surrendering to you completely, trusting you in a way that no one else ever had. And God, how you loved it. The sight of him like this, vulnerable and utterly at your mercy, made something primal and obsessive stir deep within you.

He was yours. He had to be. No one else could ever see him like this, touch him like this. You wouldn’t allow it.

“Sol,” you murmured, your voice low and husky as you continued to work the shampoo through his hair. He hummed in response, tilting his head slightly to the side as if to give you better access. The gesture was so unthinking, so natural, that it made your breath hitch.

“You’re perfect like this,” you said softly, almost to yourself. He didn’t respond, but the slight flush that crept up the back of his neck told you he’d heard. You leaned down again, pressing another kiss to the crown of his head before rinsing the shampoo out of his hair. The water ran down his back in rivulets, and you couldn’t resist trailing your fingers along the path it made, watching as his skin shivered under your touch.

“You’re spoiling me,” Sol said after a moment, his voice quiet but tinged with affection.

“You deserve it,” you replied simply, reaching for the conditioner. You poured some into your hands before running your fingers through his hair again, taking your time as you worked it in. Sol sighed softly, the sound so content and trusting that it made your chest ache.

It felt almost too good to be true, this moment with him. You’d always loved his obsessive devotion to you, the way he clung to you like you were the only thing keeping him grounded. But now, sitting here with him, washing his hair and hearing the soft sounds of his breathing, you realized something terrifying: you weren’t just obsessed with him. You loved him. Fully, completely, and with a depth that scared you.

You reached for the soap, lathering it in your hands as you gestured for Sol to sit still. His body glistened with water under the soft light of the bathroom, and as you began to wash him, your fingers trailing over his shoulders, he let out a soft sigh. His head tilted slightly, his long hair cascading over one side as if to give you better access.

“Relax,” you murmured, a small, knowing smile playing on your lips. He obeyed immediately, his body pliant under your touch. The sight of him like this—his skin warm and damp, his eyes fluttering shut—sent a quiet thrill through you. You’d never tire of how easily he surrendered to you, how completely he trusted you.

Your hands glided down his arms, the lather spreading as you worked it over his skin. His breathing slowed, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm as if he were falling into a trance. You took your time, letting your fingers explore every curve and line of his body, as though committing it all to memory. When your hands brushed over his chest, you felt the soft hitch in his breath, the faint quiver of his muscles beneath your touch.

“Sol,” you teased, your voice soft but playful. “Are you falling asleep on me?”

“N-No,” he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. His eyes remained closed, and a faint blush crept up his neck.

You chuckled, the sound low and intimate as your hands trailed lower, over his ribs and toward his stomach. His body shivered under your touch, and you couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride at how responsive he was to you. Sol was like putty in your hands, utterly enchanted by your touch.

But just as you let your fingers glide over the taut planes of his stomach, spreading the lather in slow, deliberate circles, his eyes shot open. The spell broke, and he blinked at you as if he’d just realized what was happening.

“Hey,” he murmured, his voice tinged with both embarrassment and something softer, something deeper.

You grinned, a mischievous glint in your eyes as you leaned in closer. “What?” you asked innocently, your hands still trailing over his skin. “I’m just making sure you’re clean.”

His blush deepened, spreading across his cheeks and down his neck as he averted his gaze. “Y-You’re too good at this,” he muttered, his voice barely audible.

You laughed softly, the sound warm and teasing as you reached up to cup his face. “Sol,” you murmured, your voice dropping into something softer, more intimate. “You’re adorable.”

His eyes flicked back to yours, wide and uncertain, and for a moment, he looked so vulnerable, so utterly disarmed, that your heart skipped a beat. But then the mischievous glint returned to your eyes, and you leaned in, pressing a quick, playful kiss to the tip of his nose.

He let out a startled noise, his blush deepening even further as he stared at you, utterly flustered. “W-What was that for?” he asked, his voice high-pitched and incredulous.

You shrugged, a sly smile curling your lips as you reached for the water to rinse him off. “Just because,” you replied simply.

The water cascaded over his skin, washing away the soap as your hands followed the trail of the water. He shivered again, his body instinctively leaning into your touch despite his obvious embarrassment. When you were finished, you grabbed a towel and began patting him dry, taking your time as you worked your way from his shoulders down to his arms and chest.

Sol squirmed slightly under your touch, his blush still burning brightly as he mumbled, “You’re treating me like a kid.”

You grinned, tilting your head to the side as you looked at him. “Oh? Is that so?” you teased, patting his cheeks with the towel.

“Stop!” he protested, his voice flustered as he tried to swat your hands away.

But you didn’t stop. Instead, you leaned in closer, your smile turning downright mischievous as you patted his face even more, the towel brushing against his warm, flushed skin. “You’re too cute when you’re embarrassed, Sol,” you said, your voice full of teasing affection.

He groaned, burying his face in his hands as he mumbled, “You’re impossible.”

You laughed, the sound light and genuine as you ruffled his hair with the towel. “And you’re spoiled,” you shot back, your tone playful but fond.

When you finally pulled back, letting him breathe, you noticed how he avoided your gaze, his blush still firmly in place. He looked so sweet, so utterly flustered, that you couldn’t resist leaning in one last time, pressing a soft kiss to his temple.

The air was warm after the bath, the scent of lavender soap lingering as Sol wrapped a towel around himself and turned toward you. His damp hair clung to his neck and shoulders, his expression soft as he stepped closer and, without warning, pulled you into a hug. The embrace was firm, grounding, and for a moment, you melted into his arms.

Before you could do anything more—tease him, pull him closer, or whisper something playful—he scooped you up and dropped you gently onto the bed. Your body bounced slightly against the mattress, and you looked up at him, smirking.

“You’re bold,” you teased, reaching for him instinctively. Your hands brushed his wrist as you tried to tug him down toward you, but he hesitated, stepping back. The way his ears turned red betrayed him, though.

You sighed softly, letting your hands fall to your sides. “Alright, alright,” you murmured, slipping off the bed and heading to grab some clothes. You rifled through the pile of garments he had stolen—or rather, borrowed—during his… more obsessive days, you found a hoodie of yours that you recognized instantly. It was one of your favorites, worn and soft, and it smelled faintly of detergent and something uniquely Sol.

It was obvious he had cleaned it meticulously, almost reverently. That thought alone sent a small shiver through you as you pulled it over your head. It hung loose and comfortable, perfectly worn in. You smiled, shaking your head softly. Of course, he’d take care of it so well. Sol, with all his odd little habits and quirks, always had a way of surprising you.

Beneath the hoodie, you slipped into your undergarments, feeling comfortable enough in the privacy of his room. Though you spotted pants folded neatly nearby, you ignored them. You were decent enough, and the hoodie covered what it needed to.

The room was cozy, his scent mingling with the fresh linen and faint hints of candle wax. You flopped onto the bed, burying your face in his pillow. It smelled so much like him that it made your chest tighten in a way you weren’t prepared for. Your arms curled around it instinctively, hugging it close as you let yourself relax.

Sol excused himself to dress, leaving you momentarily alone. Your eyes wandered, they landed on the walls. Among the minimalist decorations were posters of classic horror stories—The Headless Horseman and a strikingly eerie illustration inspired by the Grimm brothers’ fairy tales.

You smiled softly. Of course, Sol would have a taste for horror fiction. There was something so fitting about it, considering how quiet and unassuming he could be, yet with that darker edge lurking beneath his calm demeanor. You liked it. More than that, you liked that it was such a unique part of him.

When Sol returned, his hair still damp but neatly combed, his gaze immediately darted toward you. His eyes widened slightly at the sight of you sprawled on his bed, his pillow hugged tightly to your chest, wearing his hoodie.

“Uh… I-I can make some soup,” he stammered, his voice awkward and shy. His eyes flicked away from you as though looking directly at you was too much. “If… you want something warm.”

You propped yourself up on your elbow, grinning mischievously. “That sounds nice,” you replied, your voice light. Then, you noticed his gaze drop briefly before he looked away again, his blush deepening.

“If you need pants, I… I could give you a pair,” he mumbled, scratching the back of his neck.

You laughed softly, sitting up and adjusting the hoodie. “I’ve got undergarments on,” you said, winking at him. “I’m not naked, Sol.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair as though trying to compose himself. “You’re impossible,” he muttered, but his lips curved into the faintest of smiles.

Instead of heading for the kitchen, he sat down beside you on the bed, his shoulders tense. His gaze flicked to the posters on the wall as if trying to avoid meeting your eyes.

“You seem tired,” he said softly, his voice quieter now.

You tilted your head, studying him for a moment before deciding to ask. “The posters,” you said, nodding toward the wall. “You like horror fiction?”

He froze slightly, his lips parting as though he wasn’t sure how to respond. Then, with a soft sigh, he nodded. “Yeah. It’s… something I’ve always liked,” he admitted.

You smiled, leaning against the headboard. “I already knew,” you said casually, your tone light.

His head snapped toward you, his eyes wide with a mix of surprise and apprehension.

“Don’t worry,” you continued, your voice calm and reassuring. “I’ve stalked you too, Sol.”

“Oh, I keep…”

You shifted closer to him, your smile softening. “I still can’t believe we’re together,” you said quietly, almost as if speaking the words to yourself. “It feels… like a dream.”

Sol’s gaze flicked toward you, his expression unreadable for a moment before he looked away, a faint blush dusting his cheeks. But then, he smiled—a small, shy smile that made your heart ache.

Without thinking, you reached for him, pulling him into a hug. His head rested against your chest, and you let your fingers trail through his damp hair.

“You’re too sweet,” you murmured, your voice teasing but filled with affection.

He didn’t say anything, but the way he melted into your embrace told you everything you needed to know.

You began to toy with his hair, gathering it into your hands and tying it into a loose ponytail. The strands were silky and soft between your fingers, and you couldn’t resist brushing them aside to press a kiss to his forehead.

“Why do you like me?” he asked suddenly, his voice barely above a whisper.

The question caught you off guard, and for a moment, you were silent, your hands stilling in his hair. Then, you smiled, your lips curving into something soft and tender.

“It doesn’t matter,” you said simply, leaning down to press another kiss to his forehead.

He looked up at you, his eyes wide and searching, but he didn’t press further. Instead, he smiled.

Sol settled against you, the closeness between you became almost unbearable. His head rested on your chest, the soft rise and fall of your breathing syncing as though you were two halves of a whole. Slowly, his hand reached out, brushing against yours tentatively at first, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed this level of intimacy.

But when your fingers curled instinctively around his, his hesitation melted. His hand tightened around yours, his thumb brushing softly against your knuckles in a silent reassurance. His warmth radiated into you, and you couldn’t help but sigh softly.

Then, without a word, he shifted slightly. His legs intertwined with yours, his movements slow and careful as if testing the waters. The heat of his skin against yours sent a shiver up your spine, and you had to bite your lip to keep from making a sound.

“Sol,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

He looked up at you, his eyes soft yet intense, his expression unreadable. His head tilted slightly, and before you could say anything else, he leaned closer. His forehead rested against yours, his damp hair falling slightly over his face.

The way he looked at you, so full of quiet devotion, made your heart race. Your breaths mingled, and the air between you felt thick with something unspoken.

“Is this okay?” he murmured, his voice so soft it was almost a breath.

You didn’t trust your voice, so you nodded, your eyes fluttering shut as you let yourself sink into the moment.

His hand tightened slightly around yours, and his leg shifted, pressing more firmly against yours. The closeness was overwhelming, intoxicating, and you couldn’t help the soft noise that escaped your lips—a quiet, almost inaudible moan that you couldn’t suppress.

Sol froze for a moment, his eyes wide as he pulled back slightly to look at you. His face was flushed, his lips parted in surprise.

“Did you just—?” he began, his voice tinged with both surprise and embarrassment.

You felt your cheeks heat up, and you quickly averted your gaze, trying to brush it off. “Don’t get too cocky,” you muttered, your voice laced with playful annoyance.

But he didn’t let it go. A small, mischievous smile tugged at his lips, and he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. “Was that because of me?”

“What was that sound?” he asked softly, as if he wasn’t sure whether it was intentional or not, but he was enjoying the effect it had on you.

Your heart raced, and you almost cursed yourself for how easily he could reduce you to a mess of emotions. You bit your lip, trying to keep quiet, but it was becoming harder by the second.

His hand slid down to your neck, gently pressing against the sensitive skin there. His thumb stroked over your pulse point, and you couldn’t hold back the soft gasp that escaped your lips.

Sol’s eyes widened slightly as your breath hitched, his grip tightening ever so slightly. “Is that… making you nervous?” he asked, voice dripping with mischief.

You turned your head to the side, avoiding his gaze, but his fingers remained on your neck, steadying you. You felt the tension between you, the way his presence seemed to wrap around you like a gentle, but inescapable, force.

His chuckle rumbled softly in his chest, and you could feel it against your skin as he leaned in once more. “You’re cute when you try to hide it,” he whispered, his breath hot against your ear.

Another involuntary noise slipped from your lips—a soft whimper that you couldn’t control.

Sol’s smirk deepened, and he pulled back just enough to catch your eye. “So sensitive,” he murmured, almost like a revelation. “I didn’t think I’d get you this flustered so easily.”

Your face flushed with embarrassment, but you couldn’t find it in you to pull away from him. You were stuck in a whirlwind of emotions, of desires you didn’t want to face. It was so easy for him to turn your insides into a tangled mess with just a few touches, a few words.

He leaned in again, pressing a soft kiss to your ear, then your jaw, trailing down to your neck. Each kiss was slow, deliberate, and it made your heart beat faster. With every movement, he pushed you closer to the edge of restraint, knowing just how far to go before pulling back.

“You’re making it hard for me to resist,” he whispered, his voice low and filled with longing. “But I think you like this, don’t you?”

“Sol…” you breathed, and you couldn’t help but sound desperate. You hated how easily he had you on the edge, how quickly he could make you lose control of yourself.

He smiled softly, sensing the change in your tone. “You’re mine,” he said, his voice just above a whisper, but it felt like a declaration. His words wrapped around you, and the possessiveness in his voice made your heart race even more.

You couldn’t find words, couldn’t fight the overwhelming desire that was building between you both. You could feel his pulse quicken, his breath becoming more erratic, and you knew that you were both slipping further into something you couldn’t pull back from.

Sol’s hand slid down your back, pulling you closer once more. You gasped, the closeness of your bodies making everything feel more intense, more urgent. You could feel his lips on your skin again, each kiss deeper than the last.

Sol’s fingers danced along your spine, sending tingles through your body with each light caress. He leaned in close, his warm breath ghosting over your ear as he whispered, “I’m going to make you feel so good, Pumpkin.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and you let out a soft moan, arching into his touch. Sol chuckled, the vibrations causing your sensitive skin to prickle with delight. “Like that, huh?” he teased, nipping playfully at your earlobe.

His other hand came up to cup your cheek, turning your face towards his. Your lips met in a slow, sensual kiss, tongues dancing together in a heated dance. Sol’s hands roamed your body, tracing the curves of your hips and thighs before sliding up under your hoodie to explore the smooth expanse of your stomach.

“Ah-”

Sol’s fingers trailed lower, dipping beneath the hem of your skirt to brush against the sensitive flesh of your inner thigh. He smiled against your mouth, feeling your muscles tense in anticipation. “Patience, my dear,” he cooed, his breath hot against your skin.

Slowly, deliberately, his hand crept higher, until his fingertips grazed the damp fabric of your panties. You cried out, your hips jerking involuntarily as electric pleasure zapped through you. Sol’s eyes darkened with lust at the sound of your desperation, and he pressed a final, teasing kiss to your lips before pulling back.

“Shh, relax,” he soothed, his voice low and husky. “Let me take care of you.” With a deft motion, he teases your sex, baring you completely to his hungry gaze.

Sol’s eyes gleamed with wicked intent as He raked over your exposed sex, drinking in the sight of your exposed….. Without warning, He dipped between your thighs, spreading you open further for their exploration.

“Ahhh!” you gasped, back arching off the bed as their skilled fingers found your most sensitive spots. They stroke? circled? applying just the right amount of pressure to send waves of ecstasy crashing through you.

Sol’s free hand slid up your body to palm one of your chest, rolling the nipple between his fingers as they continued their relentless assault on your clit. The dual sensations were almost too much to bear, and you felt yourself teetering on the edge of a precipice, desperate for release.

“You’re so responsive,” Sol murmured, their voice a husky growl of approval. “I can’t wait to see you come undone.”

Sol groaned, his fingers faltering in their delicious torment of your clit as you suddenly turned the tables, your small hands wrapping around his neck and pulling him down into a searing kiss. Your tongue dueled with theirs, a playful dominance asserting itself even as your laughter bubbled up from within you.

When you finally broke the kiss, panting and grinning up at Sol, there was a mischievous glint in your eye. “Did you have fun, hmm?” you teased, your fingers trailing down his chest to wrap around the thick length of his erection. Sol’s breath hitched, his hips bucking instinctively into your touch.

“Oh, I think it’s time we even the score,” you giggled, giving his cock a squeeze that made him grunt. Your hands moved with frantic energy, stroking and twisting, exploring every inch of his heated flesh.

Sol’s eyes rolled back in bliss as your skilled hands worked their magic, coaxing his member to full, throbbing hardness. Each stroke sent jolts of electric pleasure coursing through his veins, making him tremble with anticipation.

Your fingers danced along the sensitive underside, teasing the frenulum until it twitched beneath your touch. Then, with a wicked grin, you wrapped your thumb around the head, applying just the right amount of pressure to make him see stars. Sol’s hips jerked erratically, seeking more of your tantalizing friction.

Lost in the haze of lust, he tangled his fingers in your hair, tugging gently as he guided your mouth closer to his aching cock. “Please,” he begged, his voice husky with need. “I want to feel those sweet lips around me.”

Despite Sol’s pleas, you continued to deny him direct contact, instead focusing on tormenting his neck with tender bites and languid kisses. His whimpering only seemed to encourage you, fueling the fire burning within.

With a particularly sharp nip to his jugular, you murmured against his skin, “Not yet, my love. We’re going to take this nice and slow.” Your hot breath ghosted over his pulse point, causing it to race further out of control.

Sol’s body tensed, straining for release even as he knew it was futile. The combination of your teasing touch and maddening kisses had him teetering on the edge, desperate for more. But you remained resolute, determined to draw out his pleasure until he was writhing in ecstasy.

Sol’s breath came in ragged gasps as you toyed with him, your fingers tracing patterns along the shaft of his cock while your lips left a trail of love bites across his throat. Each delicate touch and nip sent shockwaves of desire rippling through him, threatening to shatter his composure.

“Please, Pumpkin,” he whimpered, his voice cracking with desperation. “I can't… I need…”

But you simply chuckled, the vibrations humming against his skin as you peppered his neck with open-mouthed kisses. Your hand slid lower, cupping the heavy weight of his balls and rolling them gently between your fingers.

Sol’s knees nearly buckled at the sensation, his mind clouding with pleasure.

Sol’s body shook like a leaf in a storm as you expertly manipulated his most sensitive areas. The gentle caress of your fingers against his testicles sent waves of euphoria crashing over him, each passing second drawing him closer to the brink of climax.

“Y/n…” he groaned, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m so close… Don’t stop, please…”

Despite his urgent pleas, you continued to tease and torment him, refusing to grant him the release he so desperately craved. Your fingers tightened around his balls, applying just the right amount of pressure to keep him hovering on the precipice of orgasm.

Sol’s hips bucked wildly, seeking friction anywhere he could get it. His cock throbbed in your grasp, the head a deep, pulsating purple as it strained towards your palm.

With a sudden, decisive movement, you pulled your hand away from Sol’s aching cock, leaving him bereft and shaking with unfulfilled need. He let out a strangled cry, his body arching off the bed as if trying to follow the path of your retreating fingers.

“No, wait!” Sol pleaded, his voice raw with desperation. “Don’t stop now, please!”

But you merely smiled enigmatically, your gaze locked onto his tortured expression. Slowly, deliberately, you began to remove your clothes, revealing inch after inch of creamy, unblemished skin.

Sol’s eyes widened, drinking in the sight of your naked form. His gaze lingered, the gentle curve of your waist, and the tantalizing hint of your sex peeking out from between your thighs.

Sol watched, transfixed, you slipped out of your remaining garments, leaving yourself bare and beautiful before him. His breath caught in his throat at the breathtaking sight, and he couldn’t help but drool slightly in anticipation.

But instead of closing the distance and indulging in the carnal delights offered, you suddenly adopted a playful, domineering tone. “Now, pet, it’s time for your punishment,” you declared, a wicked gleam in your eye.

Without warning, you grasped Sol’s wrists and pinned them above his head, holding him in place with an iron grip. “Be a good boy and accept what’s coming to you,” you cooed, your voice dripping with mock sweetness.

Leaning in close, you whispered hotly against his ear, “Good boy, Sol. Such a naughty, needy little pup, aren’t you?”

Sol’s eyes widened in confusion and frustration as you giggled, the sound like music to his ears despite the torment you were inflicting upon him. “What…what are you doing?” he stammered, his chest heaving with exertion.

Just as he thought you might finally give in to his desperate needs, you leaned down and wrapped your fingers around his throbbing cock once more. Sol’s back arched off the bed, a guttural moan escaping his lips as your warm touch enveloped him.

But then, you spoke, your voice low and commanding. “Remember, pet, you’re not allowed to cum. Not until I say so.”

Sol’s mind reeled, struggling to comprehend the twisted game you were playing. His body, however, responded instinctively, already tensing and preparing for the inevitable release.

Sol’s world tilted on its axis as your plush lips closed around the head of his cock, your tongue darting out to lick the sensitive underside. He cried out, his fingers digging into the sheets as he fought the urge to thrust deeper into the heavenly warmth of your mouth.

“P-pumpkin, oh god, yes!” he gasped, his voice a hoarse whisper. “More, please, I need…”

But even as the plea left his lips, you pulled back, denying him the intense pleasure he so desperately craved. Your lips hovered just inches from his aching flesh, and you looked up at him with a mischievous glint in your eye.

“Not yet, pet,” you purred, your breath ghosting over his sensitive tip. “We’re going to take this slow and savor every moment.”

With a sly smile, you resumed your sensual assault on Sol’s cock, lavishing attention on the throbbing length with your lips, tongue, and teeth. Each kiss, each lap of your tongue, sent jolts of electricity coursing through his veins, driving him closer to the edge.

Your hands roamed his body, exploring every contour and crevice with a hungry curiosity. Fingers danced across his nipples, tweaking and tugging until they pebbled beneath your touch. Lower still, you traced the lines of his abs, dipping into his navel before continuing downward to tease the sensitive skin behind his balls.

Sol’s moans grew louder, more desperate, as you worked him over with skillful precision. His hips bucked reflexively, seeking more of your tantalizing touches, but you held firm, maintaining control over the pace of his pleasure.

“Please, Y/n, I can't… It’s too much,” he begged, his voice breaking on a sob. “Hurry, make me cum, I need it so badly!”

Sol’s entire being was consumed by the overwhelming sensations coursing through him. His muscles clenched and released in rhythmic spasms, searching for purchase as his mind fogged with lust. Whimpers and gasps spilled from his lips, punctuating the air with his desperate need for release.

Despite his impassioned pleas, you continued your deliberate, torturous pace. Your mouth slid up and down his shaft, coating it in saliva as you hummed a seductive melody against his sensitive skin. Meanwhile, your fingers pressed insistently against his virgin hole, coaxing it open ever so slightly.

Sol’s vision blurred, his senses overwhelmed by the dual stimuli.

Just as Sol was about to surrender to the impending orgasm, you abruptly ceased all contact, leaving him aching and empty. He whined in protest, his hips jerking erratically as he struggled to process the sudden withdrawal of pleasure.

“No, no, no!” you chided gently, your voice a soothing balm amidst the turmoil. “Not yet, my love. We have to hold it for me, okay?”

Sol’s gaze snapped to yours, desperation etched across his features. “But why?….” he asked, his words slurring together in his haste to understand.

You reached out, cupping his cheek tenderly. “Because I want to see how far we can push ourselves, darling. How deep our love can go when we’re willing to explore the darkest, most forbidden corners of desire.”

With a sultry smirk, you returned to worshipping Sol’s cock, your lips sealing around the swollen head once more. He groaned, his fingers tangling in your hair as you began to suckle him with renewed vigor.

Your tongue swirled around the sensitive crown, lapping up the precum that had begun to leak in response to your teasing. The taste of his arousal filled your mouth, a heady elixir that only served to heighten your own desire.

You bobbed your head along his length, your free hand resumed its exploration of Sol’s body. Fingers trailed down his stomach, circling his navel before delving lower to stroke the delicate skin behind his testicles.

Sol’s thighs trembled, his legs falling open wider in invitation.

Sol’s body was a living, breathing flame, every inch of him burning with need as you continued to worship his cock with your skilled mouth. Your lips and tongue worked in perfect harmony, drawing out moans and whimpers of pure bliss from his tortured soul.

The sensation of your fingers dancing across his skin, tracing patterns of pleasure, only added fuel to the inferno raging within him. His hips rocked involuntarily, seeking more of your tantalizing touch, even as he struggled to maintain control over his rapidly unraveling composure.

“fuck, your mouth feels incredible,” Sol gasped, his voice strained with the effort of holding back his climax. “I don’t know how much longer I can… Ahh, god, yes, just like that!”

Sol’s cries of pleasure echoed through the room, a symphony of desperation and need. His body shook like a leaf, every muscle tensed and coiled as he teetered on the precipice of ecstasy. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes, his vision blurring with the intensity of his emotions.

“Oh, please, I can't… I’m going to…!” he wailed, his voice high-pitched and trembling. The pitiful sounds of his sobs and whimpers mingled with the wet slap of your lips on his cock, creating a perverse harmony of lust and anguish.

“Now, Sol, give it to me,” you commanded softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “Cum for me, my love.”

At your words, Sol’s control shattered. With a hoarse cry, he exploded, his hot seed spurting into your eagerly waiting mouth. You swallowed every drop, relishing the salty-sweet taste of his release as it coated your tongue.

Sol’s orgasm subsided, you released his softening cock from your lips with a gentle pop. A shiver ran through you at the sight of his spent form, his chest heaving with exertion. Almost imperceptibly, a whimper escaped your own lips, a sound of raw, unbridled desire that seemed to come from the very depths of your being.

Sol stared at you in awe, his glazed eyes drinking in the sight of your cum-streaked lips and flushed cheeks. A soft, dazed murmur escaped his lips as he tried to process the intensity of what had just transpired between you.

“That was… incredible,” he breathed, his voice shaky and laced with wonder. “Seeing you take my cum like that, smiling at me with your mouth still full of it…”

He trailed off, his gaze fixating on your tongue as it lazily licked across your lower lip, cleaning away the remnants of his essence. The erotic display sent a fresh wave of heat coursing through Sol’s veins, leaving him feeling weak and utterly spent.

His legs gave out, and he collapsed onto the bed, his body limp and pliant beneath the covers.

Sol lay there, lost in the aftermath of his intense climax, you crawled onto the bed beside him, your movements slow and sensual. You leaned in close, your warm breath ghosting across his skin as you whispered huskily in his ear.

Your hand drifted down his torso, tracing the contours of his abdomen before dipping lower to brush against the sensitive flesh of his inner thigh. Sol’s eyelids fluttered shut, a soft sigh escaping his parted lips as he surrendered to your touch.

Sol’s senses were overwhelmed by the intoxicating aroma of your skin, the scent of your very essence enveloping him like a comforting embrace. It was a fragrance unlike anything else, a unique blend that spoke directly to his soul, igniting a primal hunger within him.

His nostrils flared, drawing in deeper breaths as he inhaled the heady musk. It was a smell that made his heart race, his pulse pound, and his loins throb with desperate need. This was the scent of his soulmate, the one thing capable of reducing him to a panting, whimpering mess.

Sol groaned, his voice thick with lust. “Your smell is driving me crazy. I need to bury my face in you, to lose myself in it forever.”

With a wicked grin, you pressed closer, allowing Sol to breathe in your scent more deeply. His hands instinctively reached for you, eager to pull you flush against his heated body, but you deftly evaded his grasp, trailing your fingers along his skin instead.

In an instant, you found yourself on your back, Sol looming above you with a triumphant glint in his eye. His hands pinned your wrists to the mattress, holding you in place as he towered over your prone form.

“What did you expect, Ame?” he growled, his voice low and menacing. “After the way you tormented me today, leaving me a sobbing, cum-drunk mess, you thought you could escape retribution?”

Sol’s free hand slid down your stomach, his fingers tracing the curve of your hip before dipping lower, seeking the heat between your thighs. You shivered, a gasp escaping your lips his touch sending jolts of electricity through your nervous system.

“You deserve this, every tease and taunt coming back tenfold,”

Your eyes widened in shock. You squirmed beneath him, trying to wriggle free from his grip, but he held fast, his gaze burning into yours with a fierce intensity.

“No, wait!” you stammered, your voice trembling with a mix of fear and arousal. “I didn’t mean it like that, I swear! I just…got carried away, okay? It wasn’t supposed to lead to this!”

Sol’s expression softened slightly, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes as he listened to your frantic protests. He released your wrists, allowing you to move, but only to slide his hand further up your thigh, pushing your skirt higher in the process.

“Oh, I think it’s exactly what you wanted,” he countered, his tone gentle yet persuasive.

“Don’t try to deny it, Pumpkin,” Sol murmured, his fingers brushing against the damp lace of your panties. “Your body’s reaction tells a different story. You’re just as desperate for this as I am.”

Without waiting for a response, Sol leaned down, his hot breath fanning over your sensitive flesh as he pressed open-mouthed kisses along your inner thigh. Each tender touch sent sparks racing up your spine, leaving you quivering and aching for more.

“Sol…” you whimpered, your hips bucking involuntarily as his warm breath ghosted over your most intimate area. The sudden onslaught of sensations had your mind reeling, thoughts scattering like leaves in a storm.

“It’s not fair, I swear!” you managed to gasp out between moans, even as your body betrayed your words, arching into Sol’s ministrations. “We were just…playing around, having fun! This isn’t part of the game!”

Despite your protests, your fingers threaded through Sol’s hair, urging him closer, silently begging for more of that exquisite torture. The conflicting emotions warring within you - guilt, excitement, need - created a dizzying cocktail that left you breathless and helpless beneath his skilled touch.

Sol chuckled darkly, the vibrations sending shivers down your spine as he continued his sensual assault. “Oh, but it feels so good, doesn’t it?” he purred, his tongue darting out to taste your essence, savoring the tangy sweetness of your arousal.

You cried out, your back bowing off the bed as Sol worked you open, claiming you as his own.

“That’s it, ” he coaxed, his voice a seductive rumble. “Let me in, let me make you mine.”

You felt your mind clouding, thoughts fragmenting into nothingness. All that remained was the intense pleasure coursing through your veins, the overwhelming urge to surrender completely to the man dominating your body.

“Y-yes, Sol, please,” you begged, your voice barely recognizable, consumed by a possessive fervor. “Make me yours, fill me up, mark me as your own!”

In your haze, you couldn’t bear the thought of anyone else experiencing Sol’s touch, his passion. The very idea sent a surge of jealous rage through your bloodstream, fueling your desperation to claim him just as fiercely.

“I’m yours, only yours,” you declared, your nails raking down Sol’s back as you pulled him closer, crushing your mouth to his in a bruising kiss.

Sol groaned into the kiss, his tongue plundering your mouth with wild abandon as he drove his fingers deeper, hitting that sweet spot within you that made stars explode behind your eyelids. Your body convulsed, a scream tearing from your throat as the first wave of your climax crashed over you.

But Sol wasn’t done yet. He withdrew his fingers, leaving you empty and aching, before replacing them with his thick cock. With a single powerful thrust, he buried himself to your aching hole, stretching you wide around his girth.

“Ahhh fuck, you feel incredible,” he rasped, his hips beginning to piston in and out at a relentless pace. “So tight, so perfect. Mine.”

he pounded into you, Sol’s hands gripped your hips hard enough to leave bruises, marking you as his territory.

“Please, Sol, harder!” you pleaded, your voice ragged with desire and something deeper, more primal. “Fill me up, make me yours forever!”

With a guttural growl, Sol obliged, his thrusts becoming brutal and unrelenting as he chased his own release. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, punctuated by your cries of ecstasy.

Just as Sol’s movements became erratic, signaling his impending climax, he paused, his cock still buried deep within you. He cupped your face in his hands, forcing you to meet his intense gaze.

You were lost in the throes of passion, your body writhing beneath Sol’s, when his movements suddenly halted. Confused, you opened your eyes to find him staring intently at you, his piercing gaze searching your features.

“Y/n..” he prompted, his voice low and urgent. “Will we make a good family, together always?”

The question hung in the air, heavy with meaning, until the shrill ring of a phone shattered the moment. Sol cursed under his breath, pulling out of you and reaching for the device on the nightstand.

You watched, bewildered, as he answered the call, his expression darkening with each passing second. His jaw clenched, and a vein pulsed in his temple, betraying his growing anger.

“Who is it?” you finally managed to ask, though you already suspected the answer based on Sol’s reaction.

Sol ended the call abruptly, tossing the phone aside with a snarl. He turned to you, his eyes blazing with a fierce, possessive light.

“Crowe,” he spat, his voice dripping with venom. “Thinks he can just call here, now? After everything? Didn’t you stop talking to him? Why is he bothering you..?”

Before you could respond, Sol’s lips crashed against your neck, biting down hard enough to draw blood. You gasped, a mix of pain and pleasure coursing through you as he claimed you once more.

Sol’s jealousy was palpable, a living thing that wrapped around you both, squeezing tight. In that moment, you reveled in it, in the knowledge that Crowe’s interference had sparked such a raw, primal reaction in your lover.

“You’re mine,” Sol growled against your skin, his teeth scraping lightly over the wound he’d inflicted.

Sol’s grip on your waist tightened, his fingers digging into your flesh as he held you close, his hot breath fanning over your ear. “He thinks he can have you, after all this time? After everything I’ve done for you?”

His voice was a low, menacing purr, laced with dark promise. You could practically feel the obsessive hunger radiating off him, the sheer intensity of his desire to keep you, to possess you utterly.

“Hmmm? Only you of course! But you’re jealous thats so cute!!”

Sol’s eyes flashed with a dangerous light at your teasing words, a low growl rumbling in his chest. He captured your mouth in a searing kiss, his tongue invading, staking his claim.

When he broke away, his lips curled into a smirk, a hint of fang visible. “Cute? You think my jealousy is cute?”

His hand slid up your ribcage, fingers closing around your throat in a gentle but unmistakable grasp. “I’ll show you cute,” he purred, leaning in close. “I’ll worship every inch of you, until you’re begging me to stop.”

Sol’s breath washed over your face, You felt yourself melting into his touch, your body responding eagerly to his dark promises.

Sol cupped your cheeks, but his eyes never left yours, burning with an intensity that made your heart race. “You want my obsession,” he whispered, his voice low and husky. “You want to be consumed by it, to feel like you’re the only thing that matters in this world?”

Without waiting for a response, he captured your lips again, kissing you with a ferocity that stole your breath. His hands roamed your body, touching you everywhere at once, claiming every curve and contour as his own.

Sol’s teeth scraped against your bottom lip, tugging gently before soothing the sting with his tongue. He explored your mouth with renewed urgency, as if trying to map every inch of you, to memorize the taste and feel of you.

Breaking the kiss, Sol pressed his forehead against yours, his breathing ragged.

Sol’s eyes gleamed with a manic intensity, a crazed devotion that sent shivers down your spine. He leaned in closer, his nose brushing against yours as he spoke in a fervent whisper.

“I love you, I love you so much it hurts. Every breath I take is for you, every heartbeat, every thought.” His hands framed your face, thumbs stroking your cheekbones with a tender reverence that belied the wildness in his gaze.

“You’re my everything, my reason for existing. Without you, there’s nothing. No purpose, no joy, no life.” Sol’s voice cracked, emotion raw and exposed. “I’d do anything for you, kill anyone who tries to take you from me and I’m yours, forever and always.”

Sol’s declaration hung in the air, heavy with the weight of his all-consuming love. He pulled back slightly, his fingers trailing down your neck, leaving a path of tingling heat in their wake.

With that, Sol’s mouth descended upon yours once more, kissing you with a desperate hunger. His hands roamed your body, kneading your flesh, claiming you as his own.

Sol’s gaze drifted down to your exposed neck, his eyes darkening with primal desire. Without hesitation, he leaned in, his teeth grazing the tender skin before sinking in just enough to leave a mark. A claim, a brand, a promise of possession.

He repeated this ritual along your collarbone and shoulder, each nip and suckle punctuating his devotion. Your skin prickled with goosebumps, a mix of pleasure and trepidation as you felt his love etched into your flesh.

Finally, Sol’s attention turned to your inner thigh, his mouth seeking out the delicate skin just above your knee. He nuzzled and kissed the area, his tongue darting out to taste the saltiness of your sweat before closing his lips around the tender flesh and sucking gently.

Before you could react, Sol shifted positions, pinning you beneath him. He ground his hips against yours, the thick length of his cock…

Without warning, he pushed forward, breaching your tight entrance with a single, forceful thrust. You cried out, shocked by the sudden intrusion, your body struggling to accommodate his girth.

Sol didn’t pause, not even for a moment. He began to move, his powerful thrusts driving him deeper into your willing depths. The burn was intense, but you welcomed it, reveling in the feeling of being so thoroughly possessed.

“Fuck, You feel so good”

“Sol, you keep teasing me- This isn’t fair..” you wailed, tears of pleasure streaming down your face as Sol continued to pound into you with ruthless abandon. Each brutal thrust sent shockwaves of ecstasy through your body, your walls clenching around his invading length.

Despite your protests, you couldn’t deny the intense arousal building within you. Your moans grew louder, more wanton, as your body surrendered to the overwhelming sensations.

Sol’s hands gripped your hips, holding you steady as he drove himself deeper, chasing his release. “Fair? Life isn’t fair, Ame,” he panted, his breath hot against your ear. “But I’ll make you mine, completely, irrevocably. And you’ll love every minute of it.”

His words ignited a fire within you

Sol’s thrusts grew more erratic, his hips snapping forward with a primal urgency as he chased his impending orgasm.

With a guttural roar, he buried himself to the hilt, his seed erupting deep within your quivering passage. The sensation of him filling you, marking you as his, sent you spiraling further into rapture.

Sol quickly adjusted your position, flipping you onto your stomach and pulling your hips back to present yourself to him. He settled between your spread thighs, the head of his still-hard cock nudging insistently at your dripping entrance.

Without preamble, he surged forward, burying himself to the hilt in one powerful thrust. A low groan escaped him as he savored the tight heat enveloping his length, your inner walls clinging to him like a velvet vice.

He began to move, his thrusts deep and deliberate, each stroke driving him impossibly farther into your core. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the air, punctuated by your muffled moans and gasps.

Sol’s hands roamed your back, fingernails digging into your flesh as he claimed you, owning every inch of you.

With a gentleness that contrasted with his earlier passion, Sol’s movements became languid and measured. He savoring each slide of his engorged length within your welcoming warmth, relishing the way your slick channel adapted to his shape.

He rocked slowly into you, Sol’s fingertips traced tantalizing patterns along your spine, sending shivers down your nerves. His breath tickled your ear, his murmurs of affection weaving a spell of tranquility around you.

“Don’t tense up,” he cooed, his tone soothing. “Just relax and let me in. I promise I’ll take care of you, make it good for you.”

His hips undulated in a sensual rhythm, the subtle grind of his pelvis against your buttocks sparking pleasant friction.

With a final, brutal thrust, Sol buried himself to the hilt, his cock pulsing as he released a torrent of hot semen deep inside you. Your body clenched around him, milking his shaft for every last drop as you both trembled on the brink of ecstasy.

Sol pulled out of you with a wet squelch, his spent cock glistening with your combined fluids. He turned you over, his hands roaming your curves possessively as he positioned himself between your thighs once more.

“Again,” he growled, his eyes blazing with unquenchable hunger. “I won’t stop until you’re screaming my name and begging for mercy.”

With that, he plunged back into your waiting heat, his renewed erection stretching you open once more. Your legs wrapped around his waist, ankles locking at the small of his back as you met his thrusts with equal fervor.

“Ahhh, yes!” you cried out, your nails digging into Sol’s shoulders as he pounded into you with unrelenting ferocity. “Harder, Sol, please!”

A high-pitched keen tore from your throat as Sol’s precise aim sent shockwaves of pleasure radiating through your entire being. Your inner walls fluttered and clenched around his pistoning cock, trying desperately to draw him in deeper.

Sol’s response was to redouble his efforts, fucking you with a wild abandon that bordered on feral. The sound of skin slapping against skin and your wanton moans created a filthy cacophony that only served to spur him on.

With a final, earth-shattering thrust, Sol buried himself to the hilt, his cock throbbing violently as he emptied himself inside you once more.

With a playful smirk, you reached up to toy with the delicate silver studs piercing Sol’s nipples. Your fingers danced across the metal, tracing the ridges and points, sending sparks of pleasure shooting straight to his already sensitive cock.

“Mmm, do you like that?” you purred, your breath hot against his chest as you leaned in close. “Feeling my touch on your pretty piercings?”

Sol let out a low groan, his hips bucking involuntarily as your teasing fingers sent jolts of electricity coursing through his body. “Pumpkin-,” he gasped, his voice thick with need. “Keep doing that and I might just come again.”

Sol’s eyes rolled back, a guttural moan escaping his lips as you continued to torment his sensitive nipples with your clever fingers. The combination of your touch and the gentle tugging on the piercings proved to be his undoing.

“I can't…fuck, I’m gonna…” he warned, his words trailing off into a strangled cry as his orgasm hit him like a freight train.

His cock jerked and spasmed, painting your stomach with streaks of hot cum as wave after wave of intense pleasure washed over him. You watched, mesmerized, as Sol came undone in your arms, his body shaking with the force of his release.

When the aftershocks finally subsided, Sol collapsed against you, his chest heaving with ragged breaths. “That was…incredible,”

………After some time.

The aftermath of your shared intimacy left Sol visibly glowing, his cheeks tinted with a gentle pink hue that added to his already endearing expression. He nestled his face into the crook of your neck, sighing contentedly as his arms looped tightly around you. His touch was firm yet tender, a silent plea to stay close.

“You’re so good to me,” he murmured against your skin, his voice soft and dripping with affection.

You smiled, your fingers gently threading through his damp hair, brushing away any lingering strands clinging to his forehead. His vulnerability in moments like this was a stark contrast to the teasing and reserved Sol you’d come to adore. Here, he was open, raw, and so utterly lovable it made your chest ache.

“I love you like this, Sol,” you whispered, pressing a feather-light kiss to his temple. His arms tightened slightly around you in response, and you could feel his heart racing against yours.

Still wrapped in his warmth, you coaxed him to lay back, sitting beside him on the bed. “Let me take care of you,” you offered with a mischievous smile that made his blush deepen. He tried to glance away, but you caught his face gently, guiding his gaze back to yours.

“You always take such good care of me,” he murmured, his tone laced with shyness.

As you began tending to him, your touch was deliberate and soft, showing your affection with every small gesture. You wiped his face with a warm cloth, pressing soft kisses to his forehead and cheeks after each gentle stroke. His eyes fluttered shut, and he leaned into every touch, his lips parting slightly with a breathy sigh.

“You’re glowing,” you teased, earning a soft chuckle from him.

He opened his eyes slightly, still hazy with warmth and affection. “That’s because of you,” he replied earnestly, making your cheeks flush.

You shifted, positioning yourself to better reach him. He lay still, watching you with an almost reverent gaze as you kissed his shoulder, letting your lips linger to reassure him without words. You traced the outline of his arm with your fingers before pulling him closer.

“You’re perfect,” you said softly, meeting his gaze. The sincerity in your tone made his eyes widen before he hid his face in your chest, groaning softly.

“Stop saying things like that,” he mumbled, his voice muffled but undeniably affectionate.

“Why?” you teased, leaning down to kiss the top of his head. “Because you know it’s true?”

He groaned again, this time hiding his reddened ears. “Because you’re going to spoil me.”

“I already do,” you replied without missing a beat. “And I’m not stopping anytime soon.”

He let out a soft laugh, his body finally relaxing completely against yours. You took the opportunity to pull him back onto the bed, cradling him as you traced lazy patterns along his back. His breathing slowed, and for a moment, the world outside of your shared space didn’t matter.

Sol was practically glowing, his usual composed demeanor entirely replaced by something softer, something utterly endearing. A wide, boyish grin spread across his face as he buried himself into the crook of your neck, arms wrapped tightly around your waist like he couldn’t bear to let go. His warmth radiated against you, his breaths slow and content as he nuzzled closer.

“You’re so warm,” he murmured, his voice muffled against your skin. You could feel the slight curve of his smile pressing against you, making your chest tighten with affection.

“Look who’s talking,” you teased gently, running your fingers through his hair. It was soft to the touch, and he leaned into your hand like a cat seeking affection. “You’re practically burning up.”

“That’s your fault,” he shot back playfully, his cheeks darkening despite the confident tone. He shifted to look up at you, his glowing smile giving way to something more bashful as his gaze flickered between your eyes and lips. “You make me like this.”

You couldn’t help but smile, your hand cupping his cheek as you pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Good,” you whispered against his skin, savoring the way he shivered at your words. “I like you like this.”

The comment made his ears flush bright red, and he hid his face in your neck again, letting out a muffled groan. “You’re unfair,” he mumbled, though you could feel his grin widening against your skin.

“Me? Unfair?” you replied, feigning innocence as you trailed your hands down his back in slow, soothing motions. “You’re the one clinging to me like this.”

“Because I don’t want to let go,” he admitted softly, his vulnerability catching you off guard. He tilted his head just enough to look at you, his half-lidded gaze brimming with affection. “I feel safe like this. With you.”

Your heart swelled, and you leaned down to press a soft kiss to his lips. It wasn’t hurried or passionate, but something slower, deeper—full of all the unspoken emotions you couldn’t put into words. When you pulled away, his grin was even wider, his expression utterly smitten.

“See?” you said softly, brushing your thumb against his cheek. “You’re glowing.”

“You keep saying that,” he murmured, but the way he hid his face against your chest again betrayed how much he loved hearing it.

You chuckled, cradling him as he melted further into your arms. “That’s because it’s true.” Your hands resumed their gentle path along his back, tracing small circles that made him sigh in pure contentment.

After a small bath, You had to pull Sol. He said he didn’t mind being covered..in whatever. You pushed him to the bathroom.

Sol was focused on the soup, carefully stirring the pot with a steady hand. The steam curled up around his face, his usual sharp features softened in the kitchen’s warm glow. You sat on the counter nearby, swinging your legs lightly as you watched him with a mischievous grin. He looked so domestic like this, a stark contrast to his usual composed self, and you couldn’t help but want to mess with him just a little.

Leaning forward, you reached out and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. His hand froze mid-stir, his body stiffening for a moment as his ears turned red. “W-What are you doing?” he mumbled, not looking at you but clearly flustered.

“Nothing,” you replied innocently, already leaning in again. This time, you aimed for his jaw, letting your lips linger just long enough to make him squirm.

“Y/N…” he said quietly, his voice shaky but lacking any real resistance. He finally turned his head slightly, his dark eyes meeting yours, wide and full of embarrassment. “I’m cooking.”

“I can see that,” you teased, your grin widening as you kissed the corner of his mouth. “But you’re also very kissable right now.”

He flinched again, his grip on the spoon tightening as he tried to keep his composure. “You’re not making this easy,” he muttered under his breath, though his lips twitched upward in a small, shy smile.

You chuckled, leaning back slightly to give him a moment of reprieve. “Need anything?” you asked, feigning nonchalance as you played with the hem of your shirt.

“Pepper,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. He still wasn’t looking at you directly, but the blush on his cheeks was impossible to miss.

“Pepper, huh?” you repeated with a smirk. Hopping off the counter, you made your way to the spice rack, grabbing the pepper and handing it to him with a flourish. “Anything else, Chef Sol?”

He sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly as he took the pepper from you. “You’re too much,” he said, but there was no malice in his tone. If anything, he sounded amused, even fond.

“Too much for you to handle?” you teased, leaning closer once more. This time, you kissed the shell of his ear, your breath warm against his skin. He shivered, his hand faltering as he almost dropped the pepper.

“Y/N…” he whispered, his voice somewhere between a warning and a plea. “I need to finish this.”

“Fine, fine,” you said, stepping back with a dramatic sigh. “I’ll behave. For now.”

The kitchen was filled with the comforting scent of the soup, the two of you sitting at the table, sipping from your bowls. The warmth of the meal matched the warmth between you both, and as you took a small spoonful, you couldn’t help but smile at the taste.

“This is really good,” you said, eyes bright as you looked over at Sol. He glanced up at you, a soft smile on his lips, but he seemed to be lost in his own thoughts, gazing at you more than the food.

His face was still flushed, his dark eyes following your every movement. He looked so content in the moment, so at peace, and it made your heart flutter.

“You’re smiling,” you said playfully, raising an eyebrow. “I think you’re happy about my approval.”

He shifted his gaze slightly, his cheeks still rosy as he lowered his spoon. “I’m happy you like it,” he said softly, his voice just barely above a whisper. “I wanted to make it perfect for you.”

You couldn’t help but beam at him, warmth spreading through your chest. “You always go out of your way for me,” you teased, “I think that’s pretty cute.”

The words tumbled out of your mouth before you even had a chance to stop them, but they felt right. You leaned in, setting your bowl down as you placed a hand over his on the table. “You know, we should just get married,” you said with a playful smirk, tilting your head slightly. “We should just be together forever. Don’t you think?”

Sol froze for a moment, his eyes going wide, before his gaze flicked away. His cheeks flushed an even deeper shade of pink, and you could see his fingers twitch slightly where they rested on the table. “What… what?” he stammered, clearly flustered but not outright rejecting the idea. “W-We don’t have to—”

“No, no!” You laughed, teasing him further. “I was just joking. But, wouldn’t it be fun?” You winked, nudging him playfully with your shoulder. “I can already imagine us together forever, making soup for each other, and you cooking for me every night.”

His face was so red now, his expression a mix of surprise, embarrassment, and something else—something deeper that he wasn’t quite ready to admit. “I… I didn’t mean to… I wasn’t…” His words stumbled over themselves, and you could tell he was too flustered to finish his sentence.

But, seeing him like that made you feel a warmth deep in your heart. You couldn’t help but smile more, your eyes softening as you looked at him. “You’re so cute,” you said gently, your voice full of affection. “You know that, right?”

Sol finally looked up at you, a nervous laugh escaping his lips as he tried to compose himself. “I’m not cute,” he muttered, still trying to look away, but his smile betrayed him.

“Yes, you are,” you replied, leaning in just a little closer, your voice soft and loving. “You’re ridiculously cute, Sol.”

His breath caught for a moment, his cheeks still burning with embarrassment as he finally managed to meet your gaze. “You’re the one who’s… making me feel like this,” he mumbled, shaking his head in a failed attempt to hide his smile. “I’m not used to this…”

You let out a soft laugh, feeling your heart swell with affection for him. “It’s okay,” you whispered, your voice low and soothing. “I think you’re perfect just the way you are.”

Sol’s blush didn’t fade, but there was a small, shy grin tugging at his lips as he looked at you. “You’re making me all mushy,” he admitted, his voice a little more tender than before.

A rush of warmth spread through your chest at his words, and you couldn’t stop the smile that broke out across your face. “I think I’m already there,” you whispered back, your heart racing as you reached over to hold his hand, feeling the softness of his skin under yours.

You thought teasing him, pushing him just a little further, might reveal that obsession lurking beneath Sol’s shy demeanor. Maybe you’d catch a glimpse of his desperation, his possessiveness—the part of him that craved you so deeply it bordered on uncontainable. Instead, what you saw was a smile.

Not just any smile. It was as bright as the sun, as if the entire weight of the world had lifted off his shoulders. His eyes shimmered, brimming with emotion, and before you could even process it, he was crying.

“You’re…” his voice cracked, trembling with overwhelming sincerity. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

His words hit you like a bolt of lightning. For a moment, your heart froze, and your yandere-like thoughts—the need to possess him, to keep him yours and only yours—shattered into something else entirely. Something soft. Something pure.

Your lips parted, but no words came out. Instead, tears welled up in your eyes, spilling over faster than you could stop them. A choked sob escaped your throat as you lunged forward, wrapping your arms tightly around him.

“Sol…” you whimpered, burying your face into his chest as you began to cry in earnest. The tears wouldn’t stop. You were overwhelmed—by his words, his vulnerability, his love. All of it crashed into you at once, leaving you raw and open in a way you hadn’t expected.

“Hey, hey,” Sol stammered, startled by your reaction. He wrapped his arms around you instinctively, holding you close as his own tears quietly slipped down his cheeks. “What’s wrong? Why are you crying?” His voice was soft, full of concern, and he rubbed small circles on your back as you clung to him.

You couldn’t answer right away, too caught up in the storm of emotions swirling inside you. All you could do was clutch him tighter, sobbing into his shirt as he held you like you were the most precious thing in the world.

Finally, you managed to speak, your voice muffled and shaky. “I… I don’t know. I just… I’m so happy, Sol. I don’t deserve this. I don’t deserve you.”

“Don’t say that,” he whispered, his voice firm but tender. He pulled back just enough to tilt your face up to meet his gaze, his thumbs gently wiping away your tears. His eyes were red-rimmed, but they shone with a love so pure it took your breath away. “You deserve everything, everything, and more. Don’t you dare think otherwise.”

His words made you cry harder, and he only hugged you tighter, resting his chin on top of your head as you both stayed there, locked in each other’s embrace. You could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your cheek, grounding you, soothing you.

“I love you,” you finally whispered, the words slipping out between quiet sobs. “I love you so much it hurts.”

“I love you too,” he murmured, his voice filled with so much raw emotion that it sent a shiver down your spine. “More than anything. You’re my everything.”

The two of you stayed like that for what felt like an eternity, holding each other as your tears slowly dried….

It’s up to you to think if you want to love him.

I hope you know “Me”- me?

[imagine-darksiders]

I have no idea if this thought is original or a warped echo of someone else's, but!

Imagine, imagine-darksiders, a darksiders au where all living races shared a world. The makers would be the ancient and reclusive race of giants and the only proof of their existence being their creations, angels- high in sky barely communicating with the filthy earthbound, demons- usually the troublemakers but with their own complex underworld societal structures and humans that (for survivability reasons) would have a wide variety of their own magic. Ranging from magic that directly strengths the body to outright spells.

A do imagine that in this world through a series of shenanigans a wanted rouge mercenary (totally not the Strife ;)) would end up being the official royal guard to an offical (y/n) on their diplomatic and research mission to other races. Further shenanigans ensue where Strife attracts more danger than y/n, his exasperated siblings join in etc etc.

(my brain decided that fixating on this has higher priority than writing my bachelors)

Hell yeah, forget the Bachelor's degree, this is the real basis of knowledge.

The idea of sharing a world with these beings is delicious in its own right. But the idea of them always having been there is so fascinating. Like, you get explorers going to try and uncover ancient Maker relics to find out what happened to them, if anything happened at all.

Angels who think they're higher and mightier than those who walk on the ground, but there are those among them who are curious, who venture to Earth to gather research and find out their societal prejudices are wildly incorrect.

Turf wars between rogue Demons and Humans when the former venture out onto the surface and start attacking the latter.

The Four are self-made mercs who swore a pact to protect the Earth, and who ended up having a soft spot for the youngest species - Humanity - that they share it with.

Strife is hired by some high-born noble who wants his only living child to have a bodyguard as you travel across the globe trying to build relations with other species. You're already renowned for striking an accord with the Lord of Bones, and bringing your Kingdoms closer in trade and good will.

Strife is... a bit of a nightmare at first. He's far too gung-ho for your line of work, turning easily to threats and coercion rather than deal diplomatically. He's caused you many headaches that you've had to frantically smooth over, and you cause him headaches because you're apparently blind to the danger you're putting yourself in.

Couldn't you see that those Phantom Guards weren't interested in talking? He had to put a bullet in their heads or they would have killed you! What do you mean you're trying to avoid a cross-species incident? Paperwork? For killing a couple of loud-mouth demons? You didn't hear what they wanted to do you when you weren't paying attention. It's a good thing Strife heard them. Nearly went Anarchy on the whole phalanx just for that comment about you...

[jungkoode]

死 KKANGPAE | #03 死

† breakfast and training †

"His eyes are the kind of dark that makes you forget there was ever light in the world. And you hate that you're starting to notice details about him."

next | index

⚔ chapter details ⚔

word count: 5.4k

rating: mature

content: training violence, weapons, strong language, sexual tension

☠ author's note ☠

HELLO MY FELLOW SLEEP-DEPRIVED CREATURES. Welcome back to another episode of "Kiki makes questionable life choices and writes fanfiction instead of sleeping"!

Can we talk about how I wrote like three different versions of the gun scene before my perfectionist brain was satisfied? And by satisfied I mean "fine whatever just post it I guess." Don't @ me about gun accuracy, I play Call of Duty sometimes that's research enough (ㆆᴗㆆ)

Also yes, I am absolutely living for the whole "oh no they're training together" trope. Sue me. Or don't, I'm broke. All I have is caffeine and the ability to make my characters suffer. Speaking of which - Jeon in combat mode? chef's kiss My boy is out there being all professional and grumpy while Y/N is just trying her best not to get shot. We love that for them.

PSA: The whole "Cookie" thing was totally self-indulgent and I regret nothing. V is here to cause chaos and honestly? Goals.

Special shoutout to my cat who watched me write this at 3 AM and judged me silently. You're the best beta reader a girl could ask for, even if your only feedback is knocking my coffee over.

See you next Tuesday, you beautiful disasters! Remember: sleep is for the weak and fanfiction is for life.

crawls back into writing cave while mainlining espresso

Kiki

⚔ socials ⚔

read on ao3

read on wattpad

tumblr/twitter: @jungkoode

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎

Mornings in the castle hit different. Through your window, the sky's doing that thing where it can't decide if it's still night or already dawn—all soft blues mixing with hints of gold. Everything's quiet, like the world's holding its breath.

Then your alarm goes off.

"Why did we agree to this again?" Yunjin whines from her bed, fumbling to shut up the annoying buzz. Her pink hair is a mess, splayed across her pillow like cotton candy gone wrong.

"Croissants," you remind her, stretching until your joints pop. "Fresh, buttery, heavenly croissants."

"Not hungry." She burrows deeper into her blanket cocoon. "Too early for hunger. Too early for existing."

You swing your legs off the bed, bare feet hitting the cold floor. "What happened to yesterday's 'new me, new goals' speech?"

"That was yesterday's Yunjin. Today's Yunjin chooses sleep."

With a snort, you pad over to her bed. It's literally two steps away—your shared room is cozy like that, with just enough space for two singles and matching bedside tables. You give her shoulder a gentle shake.

"And what's tomorrow's Yunjin gonna think about that?"

"Tomorrow's Yunjin's problem," she mumbles, death-gripping her blanket. Smart girl. She knows your next move would've been stealing it.

"Then it's tomorrow's me problem too!" You can't help but laugh, and it finally gets her to peek one eye open.

She lets out the longest, most dramatic sigh. "Fine. Fine. You win."

Your shared laughter is soft, comfortable. It's weird how quickly Yunjin became your person here. Maybe because she's as new to this as you are—no pressure to measure up to badasses like Chaewon or keep your guard up around intimidating figures like V and Jeon.

She joined two months before you did. For her, it meant saying goodbye to having her own room, but she says it was worth the trade-off. Girl's a mess when it comes to sleep schedules, but she keeps your shared space spotless and her determination is s̶c̶a̶r̶y̶ impressive. Like, you've seen her practice seduction techniques until 3 AM, and now here she is, dragging herself up at dawn for... well, croissants and self-improvement.

There's something genuinely good about Yunjin. She's always there—to help, to listen, to just be. Five months in and everyone in Seduction already adores her. Yeah, she's clumsy as hell during physical training, but her mind is sharp. Nothing gets past her—it's like she's got a built-in lie detector.

After yesterday morning's... incident, you're extra grateful for her company.

You both grab your digital cards from your bedside tables—can't go anywhere in this place without them. They're basically your whole identity here, determining which doors open for you and which stay firmly shut.

The castle corridors feel endless this early. Most members are probably still sleeping or doing whatever gang members do at dawn. Your footsteps echo softly as you and Yunjin make your way to the cafeteria, keeping the conversation light.

"Have you had breakfast here before?" you ask, watching her stifle another yawn.

"Once." She nods, her pink ponytail bouncing. "Got up at 10 though. Wasn't worth sacrificing sleep for."

You can't help but smile. "Early breakfast hits different. You'll see."

When you reach the cafeteria, Yunjin taps her digital card against the scanner. The light blinks green, and suddenly your nose is filled with the heavenly smell of fresh pastries. Inside, only a handful of early birds are scattered around the massive space. Makes sense—most people here prefer their beds at this hour.

Your eyes do their usual sweep of the room, casual and practiced. But then something pulls at you, like a magnet finding true north. Your gaze locks with dark, piercing ones.

Jeon.

"Oh, that's Jeon, right?" Yunjin's voice cuts through your thoughts. "Guess he likes mornings too."

You nod, still watching him from the safety of the doorway. Something about the distance makes you feel almost safe. He's got that thing about him—that unmistakable aura of authority that even 6 AM can't dim.

"Damn," Yunjin says after a beat, blunt as ever. "He's hot."

"Let's get food," you mutter, rolling your eyes and heading for the pastry section.

You and Yunjin load up your plates with a bit of everything, especially those famous croissants. Finding a quiet corner, you settle in to enjoy both the food and each other's company, pointedly not thinking about piercing dark eyes or brooding corners.

You try to look casual as your eyes drift back to Jeon for the hundredth time.

He's sitting there, both hands wrapped around a steaming cup of coffee like it's his lifeline to sanity this early in the morning. The sight of those tattooed fingers curled around plain white ceramic does something to your brain that you'd rather not examine too closely.

"You know, I heard something interesting about him." Yunjin's voice makes you jump. S̶h̶i̶t̶ Great, she caught you staring.

"Oh?" You tilt your head, hoping your voice sounds more curious than guilty.

Yunjin leans in conspiratorially, her pink hair falling forward as she drops her voice to barely above a whisper. It's kind of unnecessary given how far away Jeon is, but there's something about him that makes everyone speak in hushed tones.

"Apparently, he's got this whole... ritual thing going on. Every single morning, without fail, he makes sure he's the first one to get fresh coffee. Like, the first cup from a fresh pot."

Your eyes track back to that cup held between ink-covered fingers. Now that she mentions it, you've never seen him drink anything else in the mornings. The way he's savoring it, eyes closed and expression almost peaceful, makes you think Yunjin might be onto something.

"Every day? He's literally the first one here?" The mental image of Jeon lurking outside the cafeteria doors, waiting for them to unlock, is both hilarious and weirdly endearing.

"From what I've heard. Maybe it's a power move?" Yunjin suggests with a soft laugh. "You know, asserting dominance through caffeine consumption."

The idea of someone as intimidating as Jeon—co-leader of the Assassination Division, member of the Council of 9, literal professional killer—climbing the ranks of one of South Korea's most dangerous gangs just to secure his morning coffee makes something bubble up in your chest.. You have to bite your lip to keep from laughing too loud.

"Imagine that being his master plan all along," you snort. "Join gang, become assassination chief, get first dibs on coffee."

You both dissolve into quiet giggles, but the moment shatters when something shifts in the air. It's like thorny vines suddenly wrapping around your lungs, making it hard to breathe. You don't need to look to know who it is.

"Mind if I join the fun?" V's voice slides over your skin like honey laced with poison, playful but with that edge that makes your hair stand on end.

His arms drape over your shoulders without warning, caging you and Yunjin in what should be a friendly gesture but feels more like being trapped. Your muscles tense automatically. There's something about V that keeps you perpetually on edge—like admiring a rose only to remember it's got thorns that could draw blood.

Yunjin manages a wobbly smile, but you can tell she's as unsettled as you are by his sudden appearance. "We were just... talking about coffee."

"Coffee?" V drawls the word like it personally offends him. He pulls back, throwing his arms behind his head in that carelessly graceful way of his, but stays close enough that you can smell cinnamon. "Boring. Now, this new training program? That's something worth discussing."

His eyes glint with mischief, reminding you of a cat playing with its food. "I'm keen to see what you girls bring to the table. Should be... intriguing, don't you think?"

The way he says it makes your skin crawl. There's nothing overtly threatening about his words, but the undercurrent is clear—the Assassination Division isn't known for playing nice, and V seems to view the upcoming cross-training as his personal playground.

"I'm sure it will be enlightening," you say carefully.

V's energy is infectious, but not in a good way. More like a disease you're trying not to catch.

He chuckles, and those thorny vines around your lungs squeeze tighter. "Oh, I'm sure it will be. And don't worry, yours truly will be there to add a little spice to the mix. Can't let things get too dull, can we?"

Before you can respond, his attention snaps to something—or someone—across the cafeteria. With a dismissive wave that somehow manages to feel both elegant and insulting, he strides off as suddenly as he appeared.

You exchange looks with Yunjin, both of you sagging with relief once he's gone. She looks as drained as you feel, like V's presence alone sucked all the energy from the room.

"Well, that was... something," Yunjin says, and you could write a whole essay about everything packed into that single word. Her pink hair is still slightly disheveled from where V's dramatic entrance messed it up.

"That's one way to put it." You try to shake off the phantom feeling of thorny vines around your lungs. V's presence leaves you feeling like you've been through some kind of emotional washing machine—tumbled around and wrung out.

"But oh my god." Yunjin's whole face suddenly lights up like she's remembered something amazing. The whiplash from her mood shift almost gives you vertigo.

"What?" You ask, though part of you already knows where this is going. Yunjin might be shy and perceptive, but she's also a total simp when it comes to pretty faces.

"He is SO handsome?" Her voice rises with genuine awe. "Everyone kept saying he looks like a prince, but I thought they were exaggerating. They were not."

You raise an eyebrow, wondering if you were even in the same conversation just now. Sure, V's gorgeous—that's kind of his whole thing. The dangerous beauty, the dripping poison. But after feeling his aura wrap around you like a boa constrictor, 'handsome' isn't exactly the first word that comes to mind.

"Did you miss the whole creepy vibe?" You keep your voice low, even though V's long gone. Some habits die hard in this place. "He talked about the training program like he's planning to turn it into his personal episode of Squid Game. With popcorn."

"Yeah, but like..." Yunjin waves her hand dismissively, "have you seen his face? Those cheekbones? That jawline?"

"The way he's probably plotting our deaths as we speak?" You counter, but you can't help the smile tugging at your lips. Trust Yunjin to focus on the aesthetics while completely ignoring the red flags. It's kind of adorable, in a concerning way.

"Doesn't change the fact that he's eye candy," she says with zero shame, stabbing her fork into her breakfast. "Like, premium, expensive, imported chocolate level of eye candy."

"True," you admit, finally taking a proper bite of your croissant.

And it is true—V's got that whole ethereal beauty thing going on, like a masterpiece painting that happens to be slightly cursed. The kind of face that belongs in museums but also probably comes alive at night to terrorize security guards.

But even as you acknowledge V's obvious appeal, your eyes betray you, drifting back to that other corner of the cafeteria. Back to dark eyes and hurricanes.

Back to Jeon.

It's not like you mean to look.

It just... happens.

Like your gaze has some kind of magnetic programming that keeps pulling it in his direction.

Which is s̶t̶u̶p̶i̶d̶ inconvenient because the last thing you need is to get caught staring at one of the most dangerous men in Kkangpae while you've got croissant crumbs on your face.

The rest of your morning slips by without V popping up again to make your skin crawl. You try to focus on getting ready for what's coming, but your mind keeps drifting to the upcoming training.

Working with Jeon and V's division? Yeah, that's not anxiety-inducing at all.

When you step onto the training field outside the castle, the change of scenery hits different. After being cooped up in the gang's concrete maze, the open space and towering trees feel almost surreal. The cold morning air bites at your lungs—a wake-up call you didn't ask for but probably need.

Today's not just another training day. It's your first cross-training with the Assassination Division, and the tension in the air is so thick you could cut it with one of V's knives.

Your stomach does this weird flip-flop thing as you walk towards the gathering crowd. Working with Jeon after... that incident? Not exactly on your bucket list. The memory of your last encounter sits heavy in your chest, making each step feel like you're walking through mud.

The Assassination Division is already there when you arrive, looking like they stepped out of some action movie poster. Some look ready to murder, others look ready for a nap. But it's Jeon who catches your eye—impossible not to, really. It's like the air itself is swirling around him like a storm about to break.

He's got that look on his face—you know the one. All business, no bullshit, could probably kill you with his pinky finger.

No sign of V though.

Makes sense, when you think about it. Those two aren't exactly besties—more like two wolves forced to share the same territory. Their whole approach to killing is different as night and day.

Jeon's all about precision. Clean shots, minimal mess, maximum efficiency. He's the type to plan every detail, calculate every variable. Need someone taken out from two buildings away without anyone even knowing what happened? That's his specialty. The human equivalent of a surgical strike.

V though? He's chaos incarnate. Gets up close and personal with his kills, leaves a message written in blood if he feels like it. He's the guy you call when you want someone dead and don't care how messy it gets. Planning? Fuck planning—V works on pure instinct and improvisation.

The crowd goes quiet as Jeon steps forward. The atmosphere shifts, less like a raging storm now and more like the heavy air before thunder breaks. When he speaks, his voice does that thing where it demands attention without actually raising in volume. And despite everything—despite knowing better—you find yourself leaning in slightly to catch every word.

"Your state of mind is everything in this line of work," he says, dark eyes scanning the crowd like he's reading everyone's potential in real time. "A calm, collected mind can mean the difference between life and death."

The task he lays out seems simple enough: shoot the cardboard target, hit the center, don't mess it up. But as you watch others take their turns, that knot in your stomach keeps getting tighter.

The gun feels wrong in your hand. Not that you haven't held one before—basic training covers that—but this is different. This is him watching, and somehow that makes your palms extra sweaty.

Then your turn's up.

Walking to the mark feels like crossing a minefield, every step measured and tense. Your heart's going so hard you can barely hear anything else.

Focus. You need to focus.

But Jeon's standing right there, making the air thick and hard to breathe. Your finger hovers over the trigger, but doubt creeps in like poison.

The target blurs in and out. You can feel Jeon watching, that heavy gaze picking apart every flaw in your stance. The pressure builds in your chest until you're sure something's gonna snap.

Just a bit longer. You need to be absolutely sure before taking the shot.

It's not like Seduction gets much practice with actual weapons—your arsenal usually involves batting eyelashes and strategic flirting, not bullets and gunpowder. So it's no wonder the gun starts slipping through your sweaty fingers.

You tighten your grip. A surge of determination hits you like a shot of adrenaline. Come on. It's just cardboard. You've handled way worse situations than this. You can do this.

Your finger starts to squeeze the trigger—

BANG.

That... wasn't your gun.

You flinch, turning toward the sound before you can stop yourself. Through the corner of your eye, you catch smoke curling from Jeon's pistol.

He's standing there looking bored, arm extended like this is just another one of his daily mornings. The gun fits his hand like it was molded for him, an extension of his body rather than a weapon.

When your eyes snap to the target, there it is—perfect shot, dead center, because of course it is.

A̶s̶s̶h̶o̶l̶e̶ Show-off.

You lower your gun, lips pressed tight. His gaze sits heavy on your shoulders, hurricane pressure bearing down until you want to scream. His face gives nothing away, but those dark eyes say plenty—and none of it's good.

"If you're not quick enough, you'll get killed." His voice cuts like ice. "Let that be a reminder for everyone else."

The words hit like a slap. Heat rushes to your face—anger, embarrassment, frustration, all mixing together into something that makes you want to either punch something or crawl into a hole. Preferably punch him, but you're very aware of everyone watching this little show he's putting on.

Both divisions are staring, and you've never felt more like a fish in a very small, very exposed bowl.

Your eyes meet Jeon's, and suddenly breathing gets hard. His stare hits different—those dark eyes boring into yours like he's trying to read your soul, pupils blown wide in a way that makes your stomach do weird flips.

That silver lip ring catches the light when his mouth twists into something s̶e̶x̶y̶ condescending. He opens his mouth—probably to tear into you some more—but then—

BANG.

Everyone drops like puppets with cut strings. Pure instinct.

It's instant chaos. Voices rise into a crescendo of shouts and commands, bodies moving with practiced urgency.

It's kind of beautiful, in a messed-up way—how quickly personal beef gets shelved when shit hits the fan. One minute Jeon's looking at you like you're dirt on his boot, next second he's barking orders to keep everyone safe.

Your heart's in your throat as you scan the crowd for a flash of pink hair.

Yunjin.

But Yunjin's nowhere.

The sea of faces blurs together—no Kazuha, no Eunchae, not even Sakura. Even Chaewon's vanished, which is weird because she's usually got this sixth sense about danger.

Another shot cracks through the air. Your fingers tighten around your gun until your knuckles go white. Your eyes keep drifting to the treeline, where shadows dance between patches of dark green.

A calm, collected mind can mean the difference between life and death.

His words echo in your head, which is ironic considering how not calm you feel right now.

Fuck it.

You're moving before you can second-guess yourself, legs carrying you toward the forest. Maybe it's stupid, but you need space to think. To be calm, like he said.

Plus, the trees might give you cover—an advantage you desperately need right now.

The forest swallows you up. Sunlight filters through leaves overhead, painting everything in shifting patterns of light and shadow. Every step crunches on dead leaves, making you wince. So much for stealth.

V wouldn't be happy.

The chaos from the training ground fades the deeper you go, replaced by normal forest sounds—birds chattering overhead, small animals rustling in the bushes. It's almost peaceful, if you ignore the whole possible death situation.

You spot it then—a ridge overlooking the training ground, hidden behind thick bushes. Perfect vantage point, if you can reach it. The climb makes your muscles burn, but you manage. Up here, you force yourself to breathe slow and steady, trying to quiet your racing heart. Your fingers trace the gun's cold metal like a lifeline.

Your back hits the tree with a thud. The bark scrapes against your spine through your shirt, but you barely notice. Every nerve in your body is focused on that rustling sound behind you.

Footsteps.

Your breath catches. They're quiet—too quiet to be some random person stumbling through the woods.

No, these are the steps of someone who knows how to move silently. Someone trained.

Adrenaline floods your system as you press yourself flatter against the tree. Your fingers tighten around the gun until your knuckles go white. Through a gap in the leaves, you try to catch a glimpse of whoever's approaching, but the foliage is too thick.

Friend or foe?

The question pounds in your head with each careful footstep drawing closer. Your mind races, too many possibilities—it could be an enemy, could be another member searching the area.

Could be death or salvation walking your way.

The steps are almost upon you now. Your breathing goes shallow, controlled. You might be exposed up here, but they don't know that. Surprise is your only advantage right now.

Shoot or strike?

The dilemma tears at you. A gunshot would alert everyone to your location. And if it turns out to be an ally... F̶u̶c̶k̶ No. Hand-to-hand is safer. Quieter. Less explaining to do if you're wrong.

Your muscles coil tight as a spring. When the footsteps are close enough, you launch yourself from behind the tree in one fluid motion, aiming to take them down hard and fast.

Instead, you slam into what feels like a brick wall.

Oh.

It's Jeon.

His reflexes are insane—before you can even process who he is, he's already moving. The air sweeps around you as he twists, disarming you with embarrassing ease. Your gun hits the ground with a clatter that seems to echo through the whole forest.

Recognition hits you both at the same moment. That flicker of shock in his eyes quickly turns to his usual look of disdain, because of course it does.

Then—a misstep.

Your ankle rolls, sending white-hot pain shooting up your leg. You stumble, sucking in a sharp breath. His grip on you loosens just slightly, and something that might be concern flashes across his face before his usual cold mask slips back into place.

"You okay?" His voice is gruff, like the words are being dragged out of him against his will.

"Just perfect," you snap back, because fuck his concern when your ankle feels like it's on fire and your pride hurts even worse.

He just stands there, staring at you with those dark eyes that see too much.

"What the hell were you thinking?" A pause, one eyebrow lifting. "You have a gun, don't you?"

You almost laugh. Because of course. If you'd shot at him, he'd be lecturing you about trigger discipline. Attack hand-to-hand, and suddenly you're an idiot for not using your weapon.

You seriously can't win with this man.

"Well, good thing I didn't use it on you then." The words come out lighter than you feel, dancing between playful and pissed. "And what are you doing here anyway? Shouldn't you be back there playing commander?"

"That's what deputies are for." The casual way he says it makes your teeth grind. "Besides, I dispatched a team to check the gunfire. Just my luck, running into you instead."

"Pleasure's all mine, chief." You load the title with all the sarcasm you can muster.

"And you?" His dark eyes study you like you're a particularly puzzling target he can't quite line up. "Any reason you're out here instead of following orders?"

"Didn't get any orders to follow." You cross your arms, ignoring how his presence makes your skin prickle. "And that ridge over there?" You jab a finger toward the overlook. "Perfect vantage point. I was trying to be strategic before you showed up."

He actually grimaces at that, like your logic physically pains him. But before he can open his mouth to deliver what's surely another lecture, you add:

"Just my luck, running into you instead."

The words—his own words turned back on him—hit their mark. His eyebrow twitches just slightly, and satisfaction blooms warm in your chest.

Score one for you.

But before you can inwardly celebrate, he grimaces. He actually grimaces before he opens his stupid mouth again.

"That?" His voice drips with condescension. "You think that's prime real estate for observation?" The asshole holds back a laughter. "Alright." He says, and you ponder the merits of hitting him with a rock.

But then he begins walking, and you trail after him, partly because s̶c̶r̶e̶w̶ ̶h̶i̶m̶ he's wrong and partly because... well, where else are you gonna go?

"Remind me again—which one of us specializes in persuasion and observation?" You can't keep the annoyance from your voice. His arrogance is starting to give you a headache.

"And which one of us is known for sniping?" He tilts his head just enough for you to catch the silver flash of his eyebrow piercing. "You think I don't know a thing or two about picking vantage points?"

"Just because you can shoot from far away doesn't mean you know the best places to shoot from." The words come out sharper than intended. "What works for a sniper might not work for surveillance. They're different skill sets."

"How so?" He doesn't even bother looking back now. "A lookout's a lookout, smartass."

Your hands find your hips. "You know what? Ask me that again when you sit in on our cross-training. Might learn something useful."

"Learn from an ensign?" His tilt is mocking. "No—learn from you?" He lets out a low chuckle that makes your teeth grind. "Pretty sure it works the other way around."

"Forgot about Flower?" You can't help the snark in your voice. "She's a chief too, and I'm sure she'd love to put you in your place."

The exhale he lets out is so exaggerated it has to be for dramatic effect. "You're insufferable."

"Feeling's mutual, chief."

You trail behind Jeon through the darkness, trying to ignore how his mere presence makes the night air feel electric against your skin. The silence wraps around you both, broken only by your footsteps until—

A rustle in the underbrush.

Before you can react, his hand clamps around your wrist. No warning, no words—just the firm press of tattooed fingers against your pulse point as he yanks you behind a massive rock. You crash against him, bodies colliding in a mess of limbs and s̶h̶i̶t̶ startled breath.

You open your mouth to tell him exactly what you think about being manhandled, but his finger presses against his lips. Shut up. His eyes scan the darkness beyond your hiding spot, focused and lethal.

And suddenly you're way too aware of him.

The moonlight paints him in silver and shadow, highlighting things you've never noticed before. Like how his eyebrow piercing catches the light—two tiny beads of silver that draw attention to the way his brow furrows in concentration. Or how that lip ring glints when his mouth sets in that stern line you know too well.

There's a scar on his left cheek—barely there, really. Just a whisper of a mark that makes you wonder what story it tells. Your eyes drift lower, catching on the small mole decorating the left side of his neck. It's such a delicate detail on someone who radiates danger, like finding a flower growing through concrete.

But it's his eyes that f̶u̶c̶k̶ y̶o̶u̶ u̶p̶ catch you off guard. Dark and deep, framed by stupidly long lashes that flutter when he blinks. They're beautiful in a way that makes your chest tight—and isn't that just f̶u̶c̶k̶i̶n̶g̶ fantastic? You didn't need to know that about him.

This close, you can see the tiny lines at the corners of those eyes. They speak of sleepless nights and heavy choices, of burdens carried too long alone. Watching him like this—he feels different now, less like a storm trying to drown you and more like standing in summer rain.

The realization hits like a punch to the gut: you're seeing Jeon. Not the cold-as-ice division chief or the intimidating Council member. Just... him. Human.

Complex.

His fingers are still wrapped around your wrist like an iron band. If anything, his grip's gotten tighter, and you're caught between wanting to yank free and being weirdly aware of how warm his hand is against your skin in the cool night air. It's hard to tell if you're feeling trapped or protected.

The footsteps draw closer—deliberate, confident. Not someone trying to hide.

You watch a muscle tick in Jeon's jaw, the kind of tiny detail you wouldn't normally notice if you weren't pressed so close to him. It's fascinating, in an annoying way, how he can look so calm while radiating such intense energy.

His eyes flick to yours for just a second, but it feels loaded with... something. Like you're suddenly partners in this mess, whether you like it or not. It's more communication than you've had in all your previous conversations combined.

The rustling gets louder. You hold your breath. Jeon's gone statue-still beside you, but you can feel the coiled tension in him. His dark eyes snap to a spot in the trees, then back to you with unnerving intensity.

"Shoot there."

You stare at him like he's lost his mind. "What?"

"There." His voice is barely a whisper, rough with urgency. He jerks his chin toward whatever he's seeing that you're apparently missing.

"You want me to shoot a tree branch?" The skepticism in your whisper could cut glass. "Seriously?"

"Just do what you're told." The words rumble out of him like distant thunder, crackling with impatience.

You give Jeon a look, but arguing isn't an option right now.

The gun feels heavy as you line up the shot. Your finger finds the trigger, and for a split second, everything goes quiet. The bang echoes through the trees, making your ears ring. You watch as the bullet hits exactly where Jeon wanted—that innocent-looking branch that apparently wasn't so innocent after all.

A net explodes from the darkness like some kind of ninja trap, shooting toward the approaching figure. But whoever it is moves like water—fluid, impossible, beautiful in a terrifying way. The net hits empty ground with a sad little flutter while your brain tries to process what just happened.

Beside you, Jeon goes still. If you weren't pressed so close, you might have missed that tiny hitch in his breath—the only sign that this wasn't part of his plan. His eyes narrow just slightly, that crack in his perfect mask making your stomach do weird flips.

He pushes you back against the rock, putting himself between you and whatever's coming. The stone digs into your spine, cold and rough through your clothes.

Then everything happens at once.

A shadow vaults over your hiding spot, moving with deadly grace. Gunshots crack through the night, and suddenly Jeon's shoving you down, his body covering yours. The world spins into a blur of motion and sound, your pulse drumming so loud you can barely think.

When reality settles back into focus, you watch the figure reach for their mask. Your fingers tighten on your gun, waiting to see what kind of threat managed to dodge one of Jeon's traps.

The mask comes off.

Oh for fuck's sake.

V's grinning like the cat that got the cream. "Paintball night!" he announces with way too much glee for someone who just scared the shit out of you.

Relief and irritation war in your chest. Of course it's V. Who else would turn a simple training exercise into their personal dramatic performance?

You watch Jeon's shoulders drop, but the annoyance is written all over his face. His jaw's so tight you can practically hear all the curses he's not saying.

Always the professional, even when he's irritated.

V's eyes dances with delight as he watches Jeon simmer. "Don't look at me like that, Kookie," he coos, lips curling into that signature smirk that makes you want to take a step back.

Cookie?

You blink, trying to process that nickname. Looking at Jeon—all dark clothes, silver piercings, and intimidating tattoos—the last thing that comes to mind is anything remotely cute or sweet. The mental image of him buying cookies from some terrified boy scouts makes you bite back a laugh.

Now that's a story you'd pay to hear.

Jeon's eyebrow shoots up in that way that somehow manages to say f̶u̶c̶k̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶ more effectively than actual words. His tongue pushes against the inside of his cheek, jaw working like he's physically holding back whatever he wants to say. He's irritated.

"I'll give you some advantage," V sighs dramatically, thorny vines wrapping around your lungs even from this distance. "No fun beating you when you're unarmed." The words drip with amusement, like this whole thing is his favorite game. "See ya."

With one last unsettling grin, he melts into the darkness. Because of course he does. Dramatic asshole.

You're still sprawled on the ground, processing what just happened. Leave it to V to turn a regular night into some twisted paintball training session. The man's idea of "improving stealth skills" is giving everyone heart attacks.

Beside you, Jeon's muscles finally uncoil from their battle-ready stance. He looms over you, and you can't tell if the expression on his face is more annoyed or relieved.

"You gonna get up or what?" The words come out gruff, but there's something else there. Something that might be concern if you squint.

Then his hand appears in front of your face. You stare at it for a second, surprised. It's weirdly bare compared to his tattooed arms, and you hesitate before taking it. His grip is firm but careful as he helps you up.

The whole night feels surreal —one weird training session bleeding into another. You glance at Jeon as he stretches, working out the tension in his shoulders.

The mystery of "Cookie" tugs at your curiosity, but one look at his face tells you now's not the time to ask.

Some mysteries are probably better left unsolved.

next | index

🔪 taglist 🔪

@cannotalwaysbenight @livingformintyoongi @itstoastsworld @redcherrykook @somehowukook

© jungkoode 2025 no reposts, translations, or adaptations

[spork-supremacy]

I don’t know how long it’s been since the release of TOTK cause time is an illusion.

but I’m still chewing on the concept and potential of the yiga fake Zelda scene.

I really wish to get into link’s mindset during that bit because the entire scene screams “too good to be true, but just let me have this for a bit.”

like image you obviously didn’t know it was a game and how they work, and finding Zelda could have actually been as easy as she teleported somewhere. Image in you find this before finding out about the back in time or dragon thing. You really get your hopes up that for once finding someone so dear to you could finally be somewhat easy. And then the conversation becomes less convincing as she questions who she is and deep down you think “why did I expect something like this to be so simple in the first place? the gods must hate me.” Because in that moment you knew that this couldn’t be it, there just had to be more to it. Or maybe she did just lose her memory just like you had in some way, you can never be sure. And then just as quickly as you gained hope the rug is pulled out under you as when you tell her who you desperately want her to be, Zelda is no longer Zelda but a random yiga member picking the worst fight of their short life.

On the the other hand there is a possibility a more experienced Link finds her. He knows about everything he sees the dragon in the sky whenever he looks up, either above him or in the distance. But when he finds that fake Zelda he can’t help but indulge himself a little and play along, sure the conversation is short but he at least has to admire the effort the yiga put in. The disguise looks exactly like her, sounds like her, granted the smell’s a little off. For a moment his thoughts betray what he knows “maybe this might actually be Zelda.” Then of course the illusion is broken the moment he turns his head to seek the dragon in the sky, confirming its presence, her presence, the fake Zelda reveals her true form while he’s distracted.

I also like thinking about the ensuing fight, either we have the relatively early game Link who is furious beyond compare, at both the sick joke and the cruelty of fate, and at himself for ever thinking anything could just be simple for someone with the hero’s spirit. In that moment he’s out for blood, but would also like to send a message to what he would do to the yiga if they ever try anything remotely close to that again.

however I think late game Link while still mad, is much more cold with the kill. He anticipated this immediately and is just disappointed he couldn’t even have a whole minute with someone who he can at least pretend is Zelda. He wanted to just indulge in the fantasy for a little longer. When the yiga reveals itself he quickly pulls out his sword and dares them to get close. They take the bait and off their head goes in one quick motion. He moves the head and body off to the side and makes camp. He’ll continue the search tomorrow.

[spideyanakin]

Hiiiii its me again 🤭

I keep rereading the part where reader tells sirius their son name. Sirius smiles and it got me thinking of them being kids choosing names for their future kids. Like they are looking over the stars and they like the name Perseus Sirius Black. Oh the agsnt and tears 😩

THE WAY THIS ASK HAS A CHOCK-HOLD ON ME!!!

Thank you darling for those gorgeous requests 🩵

all I think about now - masterlist

summary - sirius black x malfoy + slytherin! reader, you watch the stars with sirius

warnings - mention of extremely minor character death lmao

The grass was high this year, enough to reach your knees when you walked and engulf you whole as you laid in it.

You weren’t sure if it was a deliberate choice from your parents, or if it was because the muggle gardener had been eaten by those magical plants your mother had asked to be planted last autumn.

Sirius was sure it was the latter, because gardeners, especially wizard ones were hard to find these days: he didn’t know if it was true, that’s just what he heard his parents say anyways.

"Well, you don’t have a garden, do you?" You had mumbled as your gaze lifted up to the night sky, pushing some rogue grass blade away so you could get a better view of Sirius lying by your side.

"No," he sighed, "but Kreature keeps the rooftop and balconies nice. I think my father is growing a mandrake up there, not sure why, but Kreature keeps complaining." The sudden thought of the Black household elf repotting a mandrake was making you laugh, and Sirius joined in your giggles, adding wood to the fire, "he keeps muttering insults every time the thing grows! My father says he is the only one who should do it because house elves are immune to their screams or something.”

"Poor Kreature," you giggled.

"Hm," Sirius didn’t seem convinced by the use of the word poor to describe his house elf. Although he did everything his parents didn’t wish to do, he was almost treated like a third child by his mother. Which meant that Kreature heard all her gossiping and complaining when she talked about him, and the elf did not hesitate to voice the same views on Sirius’s chaotic antics whenever the two of them dared to cross paths.

It also meant, the elf didn’t care as much for Sirius as he did for his brother, and saw great pleasure in sabotaging him. He saw it in the little things, like adding extra salt into Sirius’s plate, or folding one of his shirts not yet dry, or not quite ironed perfectly like his mother liked.

Imagine Walburga’s face when Sirius arrived at dinner with wrinkles on his shirt, and of course, he was obviously the cause of it because, this shirt had just been freshly ironed, or was it?

"You know how to read the stars, do you not?" Your soft voice broke his reminiscing, and he found himself looking at you, adoration filling his bright eyes.

"I do!" He smiled brightly, and you found yourself blushing at his enthusiasm.

"Will you teach me? I need to know them if we are to be married, do I not?"

"I guess so," his smile turned shy as you scooted closer to him, heads lying barely inches apart.

From so close you could see the clouds in his beautiful grey eyes, and the faint freckles from the freshly arrived summer sun that kissed his nose. His hair smelled nice, you noticed. Like fresh jasmine and eucalyptus.

After seconds that felt like minutes of staring, his gaze broke with yours and climbed up to the sky, his hand pointing towards his star, Sirius, as if on instinct.

"You see that bright one. That’s mine."

"The really bright one amidst the two little ones?"

"Yes!" He exclaimed happily, "and with these, it’s the Canis Major constellation." You nodded with a smile as you spotted all the stars he was pointing too. He pointed further down the sky, "now look up, straight from my star, you see these three little stars that align?"

"Yeah."

"That’s Orion’s Belt, and the few stars around it creates the full constellation. You can see his bow right there."

He watched you struggle to spot it, brows furrowing as you attempted to find the shapes in the stars.

"Here," Sirius scooted closer to you, taking your hand in his to point at the stars, skin burning where he was touching you. "These little ones are the bow, and this one is his head."

"Oh, I see it! This is the one your father is named after?"

"Yes," he smiled brightly at the proud sparks in your eyes. "Now if you go up right there, directly from my star, there is Regulus."

"The bright one?"

"Yeah," he nodded, "Reg’s the star leading to one of the paws, you can easily see the lion shape."

"Oh! I do see it!"

"You’re doing amazing, took me hours to find it the first time."

"Thank you, but you are the one who is a great teacher,” you blushed.

"What else do you want to know?"

There was a quiet silence, almost shy before you looked back to his stormy eyes, shining in the moonlight.

"What will we name our children?" your voice was quiet.

Sirius’s eyes widened, his heart racing to his ear as he watched the shy smile on your features. Suddenly, a large grin rose upon his lips, and he managed to keep his own blush at bay.

"Well, do you have any star names that you like?"

"I asked you first! Do not cheat!" You awkwardly giggled. "Do not tell me you have not thought about it."

“I have," he smiled, and your gaze lingered for a second more before his signature grin took over again and he stared back at the stars. "I always loved the name Rigel, but I hate the fact that it’s Orion’s foot." That got a new laugh out of you.

"I agree, it is a no for Rigel then."

"My mother loves Cassiopeia," he shook his head, a scowl forming on his features. "That's what she would have named us if either Regulus or I had been a girl," you watched him think, "but her story is ghastly."

"I remember reading about her." Your tone spoke for itself.

"Yeah," Sirius nodded. "I like Ara better for a girl."

"Ara,” you smiled, "that is beautiful, Sirius."

"I know right?" He mirrored your smile as the two of you locked gazes again. "Brought victory and luck to the gods, a name meant for someone great."

"I love it."

You don’t know how long you spent, staring at each other, grinning with smiles full of love and admiration for the life you were yet to live. A life where Sirius had been gifted to you.

You let yourself imagine what Ara would look like. Dark curls, with his fine nose, and if you were lucky, she would have his stormy eyes that you could spend hours diving into.

You whispered into the silence, "and for a boy? If not Rigel."

"My parents would love Arcturus, after my grandfather, but I hate it."

"I hate it too," you scrunched your nose. "No offense to your grandfather, bless his soul, or to your brother."

"None taken, my brother despises the name more than anyone."

"What do you have in mind then?"

He smiled so brightly it gave your head a spin. Your stomach fluttered at the look in his eyes, he lifted his upper body from his place in the grass and rested on his elbows.

"Do you see these few stars, the ones that look like a w," he pointed somewhere in the sky, you rose too, leaning against him, but you couldn't seem to find it.

"Here," he took your arm again, black curls brushing against your cheek as he gently took your hand. "These ones."

"Yes," you whispered, heat rising to your cheeks at the closeness of it all.

"That is Cassiopea, look right underneath it, right above the skyline. That long line of stars, with the one in the middle."

"Yes, I see it."

Your breath caught in your throat when he leaned even closer, almost whispering as he explained, "That is Perseus. Hero of the sky. He saved Andromeda, did things no one thought possible."

All words died in the back of your throat as the two of you stayed, watching the constellation without making a move to change position. Your heart was beating loudly against your chest and you feared he could hear it.

Finally, you felt him smile. You looked to the side to see him already looking at you. He pressed an awkward kiss to your forehead before coming back to lay on his back.

"Perseus Sirius Black, it sounds nice," you smiled as you followed his movements to lay by his side.

"As beautiful as Ara Y/n Black," you smiled at the name falling from his lips. "Goes well together don't they?" He noticed, "Ara and Perseus Black."

"Yeah."

"Cannot wait to meet them."

[wayward-wilds]

sky whisper sounds like such a cool name for a watcher, like it's kinda basic but it sounds so so cool

OOOOH if i haven't used that already i will (i forgor 😭)

[nevermeanttoknow]

hes a vast avatar to me for reasons

[art-o-gant]

what the fuck is the janissary motif doing in the new puppetshades. genuinely i. i've not stopped thinking about this. can anybody hear me

[mbat]

theres so many kinds of ways to go about redemption but i love redemption in the powerlessness

like call it a little cruel but i love the idea of someone who got too powerful getting their power taken away and they have to live that life now and become better through seeing what its like on the other side of the line they were so sure theyd never cross

[reticent-fate]

i Need you to understand that i am just a simple little digimon redemption machine

the squeaky lil gazimon that serve etemon on the server continent? get those critters some beef jerky and cat toys

devimon from adventure? that's a friend waiting to happen

i see milleniummon and i go "that's a friend right there, get the lads some fruit salad"

kurata can suffer in digihell but i'll take his gizmon, they're cute

i just think they're neat

-sky

[drchucktingle]

the curve

somehow ive found myself in a position where folks come to chuck in times of strife for encouragement. lets get the big part of this conversation out of the way LOVE IS STILL REAL and that is the thing to remember. that north star remains. today there is more to talk about though

existence pushes towards love community and freedom, because CREATION is what we were built to do and creation thrives with these things as fuel. IT GETS BETTER. LOVE IS REAL. however this change comes in up and down waves. its not a straight line and should not be expected to be

some of these waves are short and small, and some of the slopes are years or decades long. there is no mincing words here, we are entering a massive downward wave. the implications are huge and it is okay to mourn that. FEEL THOSE FEELINGS. it is an important part of the ride

the most telling sign post on our slope is this: tromp won the popular vote (or likely will when the votes are done). we can talk POLITICAL STRATEGY all day about electoral college or who should court the center or the left and on and on but ultimately THIS is the real story

to me it signals a TRUE cultural shift. likely conservatives will have presidency, senate, house, and supreme court. WHAT A GIANT SLOPE. HOLD THE HECK ON because we will be riding it for a while, deep into the pit of the void. hold your buds tight, prove love at the local level

but heres the thing, MASSIVE waves have happened before. theyll happen again. mind numbing slopes into the abyss and great soaring leaps into the sky. in fact the inertia almost ALWAYS causes them to happen right after each other. hippies or punks back in the day, buckaroos now

politically we were trapped in a basically fifty fifty trot for a long time, but it was not always like this (just look at old election maps what the heck). to be honest, tromps map looks like one of those old maps right now. and DANG did COUNTER MOVEMENTS blooms from those times

in other words, THERE WILL BE A COUNTER CULTURE MOVEMENT THAT WE HAVE NEVER SEEN BEFORE IN OUR LIFETIMES. you are now a rebel for the resistance and the wave that will swing back towards love will awe us in ways we cannot even imagine yet.

but for now, feel those feelings, mourn, prove love, stay safe. do not let the hope i am espousing feel like a distraction from the very real, even deadly consequences of the terrible pit we are plummeting into. it is a horrible day, and FUTURE HOPE does not diminish that, BUT

get ready because that counter culture wave is coming and YOU are a part of it. if you want to shout HECK OFF DEVILS then shout it LOUD, if you want to cry then cry HARD, if you want to love then love with your WHOLE HEART. thats the start of the movement that we dont know yet

when that movement takes shape we will feel the inertia of the curve and it may make us sick from the rollercoaster turn, and that pressure will be uncomfortable and scary, but THEN buckaroo, we will soar, and ill be so dang glad to be holding on tight with you when we do

[valiant-portabella-pirkko]

I think one of the wackiest things about the Tideturners is that because they didn't want to have armed guards and banned all weapons on the premises, they had to figure out 'okay, but how do we keep people safe if someone DOES smuggle something in then'

and their solution was literally 'let's give the sentient computer a gun'

[doctorwhoisadhd]

auauguaughgh assignmence

[defiant-firefly]

(I've had my chatty medicines so you get a post about this)

There is something distinctly and uniquely alienating and bizarre about hearing people say 'Easter Sunday is the most religious day of the year'. Like, when was this?? If it's so religious and so so so important, how come no one thought to tell me it was religious until like four or five years ago?

Yeah it's kinda funny but I'm also sat there every time like "what the fuck are you talking about". The assumption I was raised Christian and am Christian via culture is really funny though cause like. Bro I have no fucking clue what any of this stuff is about.

My parents never taught me the majority of this shit. Anyone else assumed I already knew about it. This Easter talk I've been hearing about a weird amount more than normal is all new to me and making me think of all this shit lmao