#I’m not even MOVING OUT YET I’m just going to LOOK even though I do already have my heart set on this place

[sanemistar]

DANGEROUS MAN

contents ★ clan leader!gojo x fem!reader, enemies to lovers, fluff, suggestive (17+), making out, slight mention of biting/marking, reader gets called princess, 1.6k+ wc. ﾉ requested for my milestone event.

event m.list ★ jjk m.list

your parents had warned you several times about satoru gojo, the leader of the gojo clan. one of the strongest clans to exist, along with your own clan. they had forbidden you from speaking him, let alone being in the same room as him. due to the long history and the rivalry between your clan and the gojos, your clans had considered each other enemies for as long as one could remember. you had been familiar with their warnings like the back of your hand, and you had abided by them for so long. though you personally had no ill intentions towards him, nor even understood the hatred against the gojos.

that was, until you had met him in person at one of those boring higher up gatherings that you were forced to attend when you two coincidently went outside to get a breath of fresh air, away from all the tension and awkwardness inside.

the first thought that had come across your mind when you first saw satoru was that he was charming, like one of those charming princes you read about in fairy tales. you’d seen him in pictures before, but never this close. truth be told, pictures could’ve never fully captured how ethereal he looked in real life. you’d never seen anyone like him before, and you probably never would. he was simply out of this world, like a work of art—a one in a million man. enchanted by his beauty, you couldn’t help but stare at him in admiration. your eyes never dared to look away from him, as if they were glued onto him.

“well well. if it isn’t you, the princess from that clan.” satoru’s voice pierced through your ears, waking you up from your dazed state. “you’ve been staring at me for so long, like i’m a statue in a museum or something.” you were unaware of how long you’d been staring at satoru until you saw the confusion on his face as he pointed out. you felt your face redden in embarrassment and you immediately looked down in an attempt to hide your flushed face.

“s-sorry about that, gojo-san. i didn’t mean to do that, i just…” you trailed off mid sentence, unsure of what to say in order to justify your actions earlier. your head was in and your thoughts were all over the place.

you heard a pair of footsteps coming closer to you and before you was none other than satoru. the one man you shouldn’t be standing so close to. your mind was telling you to run away and leave, but your body refused to move an inch. his thumb quickly glazed over your chin, swiftly lifting it up and your eyes got caught in his alluring gaze like a mouse in a cheese trap that was unable to escape before he let go of your chin. you could swear that the spot where he touched you earlier was tingling, as if his touch was electric.

“oh c’mon, no need for these formalities. they mean nothing to me. my name is satoru, so just call me satoru.” he spoke and you were slightly taken aback, you two had just met and he already wanted you to act on a first name basis.

“but..” he cut you mid sentence.

“no buts, it’s pretty easy. just repeat after me, satoru.” he said his name again slowly, waiting for you to say it back. he was pretty insistent on it so it looked like you had no choice.

“satoru.” his name finally rolled off your tongue, and a proud smirk made its way onto his face upon hearing you say his name. the way it came off your lips got him a little excited.

just then an idea popped up in satoru’s head, a reckless one at that.

“why don’t we go somewhere else where it’s just us two? away from all this.” he grabbed your hand gently yet firmly, like he had no intention of leaving you alone.

you knew best that it was never good ignoring what your parents had told you and involving yourself with him. but at that moment, you agreed to go with him. completely forgetting about everything, the rivalry, the hatred, everything. you weren’t sure if that was a rebellion phase or what, all you knew was that it felt right leaving with him.

satoru seemed surprised for a moment by how quickly you agreed to follow him, but grinned and took your hand before dragging the two of you away as you disappeared from the main entrance and into a quieter place where it was just you and him.

you had no idea how you ended up being pinned against the wall with satoru’s tall, lean figure hovering over you. completely blocking your view and blocking you from sight.

“why did you follow me so easily, hm? what if i had a malicious intention of some sort. didn’t your parents warn you about how dangerous the gojos were? especially their leader.” your chest moved up and down as your heart began racing rapidly.

“if you had any malicious intentions like you said, you would’ve taken me somewhere outside the territory. but since we didn’t really go that far away, it’d be useless for you to be doing anything dangerous here.” you began explaining. and satoru seemed so impressed by your smart response.

“you’re indeed very amusing.” he chuckled softly. he rested his hands on the wall, forcing you to look at nothing else around but him.

tension between the two of you began rising, and you found yourself subconsciously looking at his lips.

and satoru was so quick to notice how you were eyeing his lips for a while now.

“you could’ve simply asked me for a kiss if you want it so badly instead of just staring at my lips, princess.” he leaned in as he whispered into your ear and you could feel it heat up a bit in embarrassment.

and before you could get the chance to say anything you felt satoru’s lips smacking onto yours. you gasped into the kiss in surprise, your mind screamed at you to break away and push him off of you. but this time not only your body, but also your heart, refused to. you wrapped your arms around his neck, getting in the mood as you pulled him even closer to you. your fingers ran through the back of his soft hair.

meanwhile, satoru’s hands delicately trailed all over your back, slowly exploring every part and every bit of your skin. he was taking his sweet time touching you all while having your lips against his own, tongue exploring every corner of your mouth.

as the two of you further got in the mood, your kisses had become sloppier and hungrier. teeth clashing against each other as tongues swirled around one another in sync. what started off as a soft, gentle kiss had become a series of deep, passionate kisses that held so much lust and desire in them.

you felt so good that you could almost see stars.

“mhmm..” careful not to make any loud noises in order to avoid getting caught by anyone, you hummed against his lips. and you never knew you had the ability to hum like that ever so sweetly.

you couldn’t believe that you were doing such things with the one man you were never supposed to be doing all of that with.

satoru gojo was indeed dangerous, he was too dangerous for your heart.

the two of you had been making out for almost ten minutes straight. if it wasn’t for your desperate need for air to breathe, you wouldn’t have broken away. but due to the lack of oxygen, you had to break away from the kiss and catch your breath. eyes were only half open, your head was still light and dizzy after that makeout session as you were heavily panting, your lips which were now swollen were still slightly parted as a small trail of drool trickled down your chin.

“you look so beautiful right now, i think i’m in love.” satoru glazed his thumb over the corner of your lips, wiping the drool off. he leaned in once more and began nibbling on the crook of your slender neck and you winced a little as you felt him biting a bit too hard which would have probably left a mark that you would have to hide.

“maybe we should leave all this behind and run away together. it’s a great idea, don’t you think?” he suggested as he looked up at you, his blue eyes glowed slightly in the dark.

you suddenly came back to your senses upon hearing the words he said and slightly pushed him off of you.

“satoru we..” you began speaking, trying to form a coherent sentence. “we can’t do that. we’re supposed to be enemies, remember?” it was more of a reminder to yourself than it was to him that you and satoru would never be anything more than enemies.

“but enemies don’t kiss each other like that.” he whispered as he continued kissing your neck and up to your cheeks, then your nose, then back to your lips. he gave you quick, light pecks before pulling away.

“guess i’ll have to talk to those annoying higher ups of ours and end that nonsense rivalry, cause no way i’m gonna let you be with anyone else that’s not me.”

and the next thing you knew, you were being dragged by satoru into the main hall where all the higher ups were as both of you made a dramatic entrance when he announced that he’d be marrying you before kissing you in front of all of them. leaving everyone in the room, you included, in great shock.

satoru gojo was a dangerous, very dangerous man.

𝜗𝜚 taglist: @unriding @lxnarphase @sylusdoll @itachiiwrites @itoshivy @17020 @creamflix @luv-lies

[stxrslut]

DIDN'T GIVE UP 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

pairing; rafe cameron x sweetie!reader

summary; after getting out of rehab, rafe is desperate to be intimate with you, so it feels like his whole world falls apart when he’s unable to arouse himself. but with plenty of commitment and a promise not to give up, he finally manages to succeed, even if it’s not in the way that you’d both wished for

content; talk of addiction and rehab, brief mention of overdose, erectile dysfunction, masturbation, brief handjob

author's note; inspired by a few conversations had over on @starfxkrinc about post rehab rafe. I'm super happy with how this one turned out, I really love exploring these sides of rafe

you hold rafe’s hand as you both walk inside. tonight has been so special, your first date since rafe got out of rehab. it had been intimate and quiet and comfortable. a lovely meal at the local gourmet restaurant filled with gentle loving touches had left you both wanting more, a more that neither of you had had for a while.

even before rehab, rafe had just stopped having sex with you. you’d thought you might get somewhere but then the od happened and he’d needed to go to rehab which meant you didn’t even see him for months. 

you’re both so touch starved, no words need to be spoken before you’re both making your way up to the bedroom, kissing and fumbling with each other’s clothes, quickly and desperately.

“god— missed you so much,” he murmurs, hands on your hips as he backs through the bedroom door, turning and kicking it shut like he always used to when you first started sneaking around together.

you moan softly “me too. missed you rafe.” one of your hands wraps around his neck and the other comes down to palm at him through his pants, his bulge is noticeable but he’s not hard yet. you undo his zipper and touch him through his boxers.

you both move back towards the bed and you pull his dick out, taking it in your hand and starting to jerk him off, but you both notice something. that something being nothing, nothing is happening. his dick isn’t doing anything. 

rafe frowns and you do the same, both of you look down as your hand keeps moving for no reaction. after about thirty seconds rafe steps away, “shit I– I didn’t know that would happen.” he rubs the back of his neck, “shit… shit.” 

you step forward and place a hand on his arm, “oh rafe… hey I’m sure its normal.. you did just get outta rehab,” you try to pull him to look at you but he doesn’t, he stares straight at the floor and shrugs you off.

“no… I.. this happens when I’m high not– I’ve been sober for two months.” he exaggerates, you can hear his voice beginning to break. you had considered that this might be an obstacle but you weren’t expecting him to react like this, surely all it’s going to take is a bit of trial and error until he can get it up with as much ease as he used to.

though you suppose this must be hard for him. finally getting some normality back and he can’t even properly enjoy it. and you know how much he hates to feel emasculated. maybe it is a big deal for him. even though it’s not guaranteed to happen yet, the imminent possibility must have shocked him into a panic. 

that’s fine, you’ve dealt with rafe under much more serious circumstances.

you step forward, more confident now that you have an idea of what the problem is and how you can solve it. “rafe, sweetie don’t panic,” you speak gently, “we’re gonna sort this out okay?” 

rafe looks down at you, “sorry– sorry I’m.. just wasn’t expectin’ it..” he scratches the back of his neck, looking down at his uncovered self. you nod, understanding his distress.

“that’s okay, it was a surprise huh?” you stroke his arm gently, “you wanna try again?” you ask gently and he nods shakily, taking a calming breath before letting you guide him to the bed. he sits down first and then you climb on after him, straddling his lap and quickly managing to retain the mood you were in before.

you grind down a little and his hands come to your hips to help your movements like he normally would but he’s quickly letting out an agitated noise and pushing you off. “it’s not working,” he groans in frustration. 

you pull yourself up to sit next to him. your hand comes to his chest, “oh baby,” you coo as you notice the tears welling in his eyes that he’s so obviously trying to hold back. in his mind not being able to get aroused is bad enough, crying would just make him pathetic. 

“what do you wanna do huh?” you pry, stroking his chest now and coming up to kiss his shoulder. “I’m sure that there are things we can try… it’s only been a couple of minutes.” you try to reassure him but you’re pretty sure he’s going to be inconsolable until he can feel confident in himself again. in his mind, a couple of minutes should mean you’re already halfway through round two.

“I– I don’t understand,” he sniffles pitifully, not daring to make eye contact with you as he instead stares down at his completely motionless dick. “this wasn’t supposed to happen anymore.. I- I got sober.” 

you kiss him again, “you did baby, you got sober,” you smile sympathetically, “and this is normal, its normal to have erectile dysfunction after stuff like this.” though that reassurance sets him off more.

“don’t– don’t call it that,” he snaps ever so slightly, shoulders tensing and momentarily shrugging your hand away, “I don’t– I can’t have a dysfunction, okay it’s– it’s gotta work.” his voice breaks just a little.

you nod, “okay… okay then we’ll make it work, okay?” you move your body so that you can look him in the eyes, you bring your hand up to cup his face. “you just tell me what you need, okay? we can do whatever you want, whatevers gonna help you.” 

he thinks for a moment, you can see the cogs in his brain turning behind his eyes as he tries to find something that he thinks may help him. his lips are parted and his cheeks are slightly pink. he eventually seems to come to a conclusion, he hesitates for a moment before speaking tentatively, “can uh.. can I try doin’ it myself?”

you nod, “yeah, course baby.” you smile, proud of him for being able to articulate his need, “where do you want me? should I give you some privacy or–” 

rafe shakes his head, “can you stay,” he asks, “please… just.. I really need you to be here.” he tries to avert his eyes, he’s embarrassed, you can tell, he reeks of humiliation and you wish that you could just take it away from him. after all that he’s been through in the past few months you feel this is the last thing he deserves. 

“I’ll stay here,” you affirm, “I’ll stay here as long as you need okay? you just do whatever you need to do.” you move with him as his hand comes to grasp yours whilst the other supports him while he shakily manoeuvres himself to half sit half lay against the headboard. 

you stay on the edge of the bed, keeping a hold of his hand as that is evidently what he wants you to do. his chest rises and falls slowly as he pushes his pants further down and then gently grasps his soft dick. 

he begins to move tentatively, doing his best to throw his head back and not think about it. you stay quiet, just letting him figure it out for himself. 

he manages to get it up, a little, you notice a look of clear relief on his face as he relishes in the sensation he’d worried that he wouldn’t get back. his movement quickens and then his face falls as he loses it.

you stroke his thumb with your own, “it’s okay baby, just take your time.” you murmur softly as his face scrunches up in annoyance. but he perseveres, hand going back down to try once again.

he tries, he really tries. he tries so many times, over and over again, and to both of your increasing dismay he keeps losing it over and over again too. 

poor rafe, tears slip down his cheeks and he groans from sadness and surely a little pain at the fact that he’s basically rubbed himself raw down there. his tip is pink and angry, you have half a mind to tell him to stop but you fear he may hurt himself more if he can’t manage or stop on his own terms. 

he huffs sadly. he knows he needs to stop too, “just– just one more try.” he says, “one more.” he nods decisively before looking up to you, almost as if to ask for your blessing to just try one more time. 

of course you nod, “yeah, one more time. you’ve got this rafe,” you tell him, squeezing his hand reassuringly with a loving smile, hoping to encourage him to finally get it. 

rafe starts again, slowly at first and then he builds up his movements, it takes a long few minutes but he manages to get himself hard, fully hard. he grunts and groans and you have to stop yourself from slipping a hand under your own underwear so as not to distract him from his moment. 

after another long few minutes he practically cries out, then whimpers and then tears of relief fall down his cheeks as he finally cums. it’s not a lot, and it doesn’t last long, but it does him good. the feeling simply overwhelms him and he finally feels reassured that he can be normal again.

once he’s ridden it out you wipe the tears from his cheek with your free hand, “hey.” you smile down at him, “well done, you did so good.” you speak gently, “I’m so proud of you, you didn’t give up.” 

rafe smiles, his previous humiliation replaced with pure bliss and relief, “yeah,” he nods, sighing breaths of relief, “didn’t give up.” maybe this evening didn’t go exactly as expected, but you think, with the circumstances, it turned out okay.

[em-ontv]

Need some space — d.w.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x lover!fem!reader

Summary: Dean could never keep his hands off of you, latching onto you whenever he could

Content: fluff, established relationship, clingy/touch-starved Dean, not proofread, English is not my first language, mistakes should be present, sorry!

Word count: 912

Dean was a lot of things—sharp-tongued, reckless at times, stupidly brave—but you hadn't expected "clingy boyfriend" to be added to the list.

Yet somehow, here you were, flipping through dusty books with his head in your lap, eyes half-closed like an oversized housecat. He shifted to a more comfortable position on the couch, clearly uninterested in the research you were trying to get through.

"Dean," you sighed, nudging the book away from where it almost brushed against his face. "How am I supposed to read with your giant head in the way?"

"Don't mind me, sweetheart." he mumbled, eyes closing and voice bordering a purr. "You're doing great. Keep it up."

You gave his forehead a flick, earning a dramatic groan. He swatted half-heartedly at your hand but refused to move an inch. Instead, he stretched his legs out further, making himself even more comfortable.

"Seriously? You're not even gonna pretend to help?" you glared at him. "You know, I'd really appreciate it if you started flipping through some books too."

"Helping," he said lazily, cracking one eye open and giving you a smirk. "Emotional support."

Without waiting any further, he reached up, took your hand, and pressed it to his head. Your fingers tangled in his hair instinctively, and he melted under your touch like butter on a hot pan.

When you stopped and started to pull your hand back so you could flip a page of the book, he let out a pathetic whine, pushing your hand back against his head, like he’d die before letting you go.

"You're such a baby. I have to get this done before Sam comes back." you muttered, squishing his face between your fingers, making him pout.

"Cut it out," he grumbled, frowning up at you, though the way his frown dissolved when you laughed said otherwise.

"If you're not gonna help, you're not gonna complain either." you said, and he retaliated by kissing your wrist, peppering soft, warm kisses all the way up your arm.

You rolled your eyes, biting back a smile. Dean's touchy-feely tendencies had only escalated since you started dating. Take the case last week, for example.

You'd been interviewing a witness at a diner, trying to keep your questions subtle and professional. Dean, however, had other ideas.

"So, you're saying the lights flickered just before you heard the noise?" you asked the frazzled waitress.

"Uh-huh," she nodded, glancing nervously between you and Dean.

Before you could respond, his hand found its way to the small of your back. Not a casual graze either—nope—it was a slow, deliberate caress, his fingers curling just enough to make his presence known. You froze, shooting him a warning glance, trying to shrug him off, but he was already leaning in closer, the picture of shamelessness.

"Sweetheart," he murmured, low enough that only you could hear. "You're doing amazing. Keep it up."

"Dean," you hissed through a forced smile. "Go sit down."

"What? I'm just keeping an eye on you," he replied, all wide-eyed innocence, grinning like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

The poor waitress looked like she wanted to crawl into the freezer.

And then there was that time in the library when you'd been deep into research, scanning page after page. Dean had sauntered in, plopped down next to you, and proceeded to rest his chin on your shoulder while humming AC/DC under his breath.

"Keep reading, sweetheart. I’m comfy." he murmured when you tried to shoo him off, knowing he'd just distract you. His arm snaked around your waist, and before you could protest, he was already pressing slow, feather-light kisses along your jaw.

Or the night you snuck into the kitchen for some quiet time with a PB&J. Five minutes later, Dean appeared in the doorway, his hair sticking up in every direction. He looked half-asleep, his brows pinched in sleepy frustration.

"What are you doing?" you asked, mid-bite of a PB&J.

"Couldn't sleep," he said, padding over to you with a frown. "Why'd you leave?"

"Dean, I was gone for five minutes."

He made a noise of dissatisfaction, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind, nuzzling lazily into the crook of your neck. "Come back to bed with me." he muttered, his voice soft and heavy with sleep.

It was ridiculous. The same tough-as-nails hunter who'd taken on demons, monsters, and literal death couldn't go five minutes without missing you. But as much as you teased him for it, it brought a certain warmth to your heart.

Because for all his bravado, Dean was just a guy who'd spent most of his life terrified of losing the people he cared about, loved. His over-the-top clinginess? It was his way of making up for lost time.

"Alright, fine," you said, swallowing the last bite of your sandwich and dusting your hands off.

He grinned—smug at first, but it quickly melted into something far softer. He let out a content hum, nuzzling closer.

"Right now, please." he murmured, his voice heavy with drowsiness.

"Alright, just don't fall asleep on me in the middle of the kitchen." you said, rubbing his arm, leading him back to the comfort of your shared bed.

Under the covers, Dean curled up against you, his arms wrapped around your body, his face buried in your neck. His breath was gentle and even, warm against your skin. Just before sleep took him, he murmured faintly, "Love you, sweetheart."

[goldfades]

TIGHTLING ─── LUKE HUGHES

request: "luke hughes + reader doing tiktok couple trends??"

here is the trend i was doing!

The phone props precariously against a stack of books on the coffee table, its tiny lens trained on you and Luke as he lounges on the couch beside you. His long legs are sprawled out, a stark contrast to your cross-legged position, and he looks completely at ease, a faded Michigan sweatshirt hanging loosely on his broad frame.

It was your idea—of course it was—to rope him into yet another TikTok trend. And honestly, it didn’t take much convincing. Luke, for all his teasing about how “obsessed” you are with the app, has never been one to back down from your antics. You swear he secretly loves these little moments where the two of you can just be goofy together.

“Okay, so here’s the deal,” you start, holding your phone up to demonstrate the angle and framing, even though he’s barely paying attention. His eyes flick lazily from your face to the camera. “I’m gonna ask you a bunch of questions, and they’re things only girls would know—like, makeup stuff, skincare stuff. You just have to guess what they mean.”

Luke blinks at you, visibly unimpressed. “That’s it? I just guess?”

“Yes.” You grin, wide and mischievous, and he narrows his eyes at you suspiciously.

“Why do I feel like this is just a setup to make me look stupid?”

“It's not, I promise.” You say, patting his knee in mock reassurance.

He scoffs, rolling his eyes, but the corners of his mouth tug upward into the faintest smile. You’ve won, and he knows it. “Fine. But you owe me for this.”

“Uh-huh,” you deadpan, grabbing the remote and shoving it out of the frame. “And what exactly do I owe you for a few minutes of your time?”

He tilts his head, pretending to think. “I don’t know. Maybe you stop stealing my clothes every time you come over?”

“That’s a deal I’ll never make,” you quip, setting the phone back on its makeshift tripod. “Okay, ready?”

Luke leans forward slightly, brushing his hair out of his face as he flashes you a lopsided grin. “Hit me with it.”

And just like that, you hit record.

You settle back into the couch, phone recording, and glance at Luke, who’s already sitting straighter, his focus zeroed in like this is some kind of high-stakes playoff. The intensity is so out of place that it’s almost impossible not to laugh, but you manage to keep a straight face. Barely.

“Alright,” you say, scrolling through your mental list of girl-specific words. “First question: What does waterline mean?”

Luke blinks. “Waterline?” His brows furrow, and he leans forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees like he’s trying to think through an SAT question. “Like... the edge of a body of water? Or where water stops?”

You gasp dramatically, clapping your hands together. “Oh my God, yes! That’s exactly it. How did you know?”

His face lights up, the corners of his mouth quirking into a self-satisfied grin. “Seriously? I mean, it makes sense, right?”

“Totally,” you nod fervently, resisting the urge to crack up. “You’re so smart.”

He smirks, leaning back against the couch. “Told you. What’s next?”

You bite your lip, stifling a laugh, and move on. “Okay, next question. What’s a cuticle pusher?”

Luke’s face scrunches up, his confusion written all over it. “A... what?”

“Cuticle pusher,” you repeat innocently, as though this is a perfectly normal thing for him to know.

He hesitates, narrowing his eyes at you. “Uh... is it like... something you use to push dirt out from under your nails?”

You gasp again, clutching your chest like you’re shocked by his brilliance. “Yes! Oh my God, Luke, how do you know these things?”

He lets out a laugh, visibly proud of himself. “I don’t know! It just made sense!”

“Wow,” you say, shaking your head like you’re genuinely impressed. “You’re two for two.”

“Duh,” he quips, leaning forward again, his confidence swelling. “Keep going. I’m on a roll.”

You suppress another laugh and press on. “Okay, what about... baking?”

“Baking?” he repeats, frowning. “Like... cooking?”

You shake your head quickly. “Not that kind of baking. It’s a makeup thing.”

He sits back, tapping his fingers against his leg as he thinks. “Makeup... baking... Does it have something to do with heat? Like, you heat the makeup onto your face or something?”

It takes every ounce of willpower not to break character. “Oh my God, yes! Exactly! You bake it onto your face to, like, set it. You’re literally on fire, Luke. I can’t believe this.”

He laughs again, a full, genuine laugh this time, his cheeks a little pink. “I’m just that good.”

“You really are,” you say with mock awe. “Okay, okay, one more for now. What’s a winged liner?”

Luke doesn’t even pause to think this time. “Easy. It’s eyeliner, but it’s, like... shaped like wings.”

You clap your hands together, nodding enthusiastically. “Yes! Oh my God, Luke! You’re literally unstoppable!”

“I know, right?” He beams, clearly riding the high of getting “everything” right. “See? I told you I’d win.”

You bite back your laughter, nodding along like you’re his number-one fan. “You’re seriously the best at this. I’ve never seen anyone crush these questions like you.”

Luke leans back, folding his arms across his chest, looking far too pleased with himself. “Alright, what’s the next round? I’m ready.”

You can’t hold it in anymore and burst into laughter, but he just looks at you, confused but still grinning. “What? Why are you laughing? I’m killing it!”

And the best part? He truly believes it.

You shake your head, waving your hand as if to dismiss your laughter. “Nothing, nothing! You’re just—you’re killing it, Luke. Like, I think you might know more about this stuff than I do.”

He grins, sitting up straighter. “I mean, you said it was trivia. I’m just good at picking stuff up.”

“Right, right,” you say, wiping an imaginary tear from your eye as you compose yourself. “Okay, next question. What’s... double cleansing?”

Luke pauses, his competitive streak kicking back in as he furrows his brow in concentration. “Double cleansing... like, washing your face twice? First to get the dirt off and then... to, I don’t know, make it extra clean?”

You gasp again, clutching his arm this time. “Yes! Oh my God, that’s exactly it. How do you keep doing this?”

He looks so smug now, like he just nailed a game-winning goal. “It just makes sense, you know? Two steps—one for the surface, one for deep cleaning. I’m basically an expert.”

You nod vigorously, stifling another laugh. “Seriously. Like, you should teach a class or something.”

“Maybe I will,” he says with a smirk. “Alright, next one. Hit me.”

You glance at your mental list again, biting your lip to keep from cracking up. “Alright. What’s a dupe?”

Luke tilts his head, confused but determined. “A dupe... like... a duplicate? Something that looks like something else?”

You slap your hand over your mouth, pretending to be floored. “Yes! Oh my God, Luke, you’re literally on fire. It’s like a cheaper version of something expensive. How are you so good at this?”

He’s grinning so wide now, his cheeks pink with pride. “I don’t know. I guess I just have a natural instinct for this stuff.”

“Clearly,” you say, barely holding it together. “Okay, okay, next one. What’s a beauty blender?”

“A beauty blender?” He pauses, his competitive edge shining through as he carefully thinks it over. “Uh... like... a machine that mixes stuff? Like makeup or foundation or something?”

You clasp your hands dramatically, your jaw dropping. “Yes! Oh my God, Luke, are you kidding me? How do you know this?”

He throws his hands up like it’s no big deal, even though he’s clearly eating up the praise. “What can I say? I’m just built different.”

You double over with laughter, but quickly try to disguise it as a cough when he narrows his eyes. “I’m serious! You’re like... a prodigy.”

“I know,” he says, fully leaning into the role now. “Alright, what’s next? Let’s keep going.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, wondering how far you can push this before he catches on. “Okay, this one’s tricky,” you warn, straightening up. “What’s... tightlining?”

He blinks at you, a little wary but still confident. “Tightlining? Uh... when you line something up really close together? Like... packing it in tight?”

You gasp again, throwing your head back. “Yes! Oh my God, Luke! It’s when you line your eyes super close to your lashes! You’re incredible!”

His grin is so wide now, he looks like a kid who just found out he’s getting a puppy for Christmas. “I mean, it’s just logical, right? Tightlining. Tight lines. Easy.”

“Easy for you,” you say, shaking your head in mock amazement. “You’re like a makeup genius.”

“I should probably put that on my résumé,” he jokes, leaning back and crossing his arms. “Luke Hughes: NHL defenseman, trivia champion, and makeup expert.”

You can’t help but laugh again, your chest aching from holding it in for so long. But he still doesn’t catch on—he’s far too busy basking in the glory of his “success.”

“Alright,” you say, wiping a pretend tear from your eye. “One last question, and this one’s a doozy. What’s a halo eye?”

Luke’s face scrunches up in confusion, but he’s clearly not backing down. “Halo eye... uh... is it like... when your eyes look shiny? Like they’re glowing or something?”

You clasp your chest, pretending to be in awe. “Yes! That’s exactly it! How did you know?”

He throws his hands in the air, grinning ear to ear. “I mean, it’s in the name. Halo. Glow. It’s not that hard.”

You’re practically wheezing at this point, barely able to hold yourself together. But Luke? He’s still riding that high, completely oblivious to the fact that he’s been getting it hilariously wrong the entire time.

── COMMENTS

melia 🤍 "halo eye… uh… when your eyes look shiny?" IM SCREAMING ♡ 18k

abby grace 🌸 the gasp after every answer has me CRYING 💀 ♡ 14.5k

lily 🦋 the fact that he’s dead serious makes this even better ♡ 6.3k

viv 🪩 “double cleansing… to make it extra clean?” i can’t breathe 😭 ♡ 292

nj devils enthusiast “baking… does it have something to do with heat?” AND YOU SAID YES 💀💀 ♡ 500

sarah rose ☁️ his face when you said he got it right 😭😭😭 pure joy ♡ 4.2k

ellie ✨ he’s never gonna trust you again when he finds out 😭 ♡ 1.8k

emma 🤍 “tightlining… tight lines… easy” LUKE WHAT ♡ 239

sophia 💕 he’s gonna tell people he’s a skincare guru after this 😭 ♡ 2k

madeline you could’ve asked him anything and he’d still be so proud of himself lmaoo ♡ 103

noah’s gf how is he so wrong yet so sure every time 💀 ♡ 89

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[delilahsturniolo]

casual — m.s

in which . . . you get your virginity taken from your best friend matt, after he finds out you’ve never had sex.

warnings . . . smut, virgin!reader, fingering, unprotected sex and more.

written by @delilahsturniolo. do not copy, steal, or modify my works. do not take inspiration without asking permission first. happy reading! :)

“i know what you tell your friends.”

“it’s casual, if it’s casual now.”

you were currently over at matt’s house, it was just the two of you chilling together in matt’s room. you were both bored out of your mind, so you decided to play a classic game of never have i ever

“okay…my turn.” you exclaimed, sitting up. “never have i ever cheated on a test!” you asked, grinning. matt lightly chuckled, slowly putting a finger down. you still had all 10 fingers, you hadn’t done any of the things matt had asked.

“come on y/n, these are lame questions.” matt rolled his eyes, you only shrugged your shoulders.

“what? i don’t know what else to ask.”

“let’s spice it up a little at least?” matt questioned you, tilting his head to get a better look at you. you narrowed your eyes at him.

“spice it up how?” you asked, a little intrigued but nervous at the thought.

“we can start by letting me ask the questions.” matt smiled teasingly, you huffed and agreed.

“okay…go ahead.” you said, putting your hands up again. matt was determined to get you to put at least one finger down, there was no way you were this innocent.

“never have i ever…kissed someone?” matt asked, putting one of his fingers down. you stayed completely still, your finger not going down like matt had expected.

he furrowed his eyebrows. “you’ve never kissed anyone?” he asked you, a puzzled expression on his face. you shook your head. “no…” you mumbled.

“you’re lying.” matt teased.

“am not!” you replied back.

“alright…never have i ever had sex?” matt knew what your answer was going to be, he just wanted to confirm. matt put his finger down, but you didn’t move yet again.

“i didn’t know you were a virgin.” matt expressed, looking up at your face, that was completely flustered.

“i know…it’s embarrassing isn’t it?” your voice got softer, matt immediately shook his head.

“no no no, not at all.” matt reassured you, your body language was tense and hesitant. you didn’t really want matt to know you were a virgin, you just never found the right person, having sex was a huge fear of yours.

“i’m just…i’m just afraid.” you whispered, your voice weak. matt’s expression softened at your words.

“that’s completely normal, it’s okay to be afraid.” matt spoke back to you, a hint of care and concern laced in his voice, he had such a soft spot for you. however, he was stone cold to everyone else. everyone else but you.

you nodded, looking down at your lap. you stayed quiet, not knowing what else to say. that was, until matt spoke up.

“i could…maybe help you get over that fear?” matt requested, his voice barely above a whisper. your eyes widened.

“what?” you asked, even though you knew exactly what he was saying.

“we don’t have to if you don’t want-“ matt started speaking, but you quickly interrupted him.

“no no no! i want to.” you abruptly replied, fiddling with your gold necklace as you and matt locked eyes for a moment.

“are you sure?” matt asked you, confirming that you were okay with this and that he wasn’t pressuring you.

you trusted matt more than anyone in the world, so you nodded your head. matt scooted closer to you on the bed, gently grabbing your waist.

“i need to hear you say it then.” matt told you, his voice deep and seductive. you felt so attracted to him, even though you both were best friends. it didn’t feel weird though, not at all.

“yes please.” as soon as those words came out of your mouth, matt smiled, feeling reassured that you trusted him. his hands gripped your waist once more, gently laying you down on the bed.

matt hovered over you, his hand cupping your cheek as he gently pressed a light kiss to your face before placing his other hand on the hem of your shirt.

“can i?” matt asked you once again, you nodded. he slowly pulled your shirt off, trying to be as gentle as possible.

he unbuttoned your jeans and unclasped your bra, leaving you just in your underwear. you allowed him to do all of this, just because it was matt. you wouldn’t let anyone else do this with you.

matt smirked at the wet patch present on your white laced underwear. he leaned in to you, pressing kisses and sucking on your neck, leaving marks as he trailed kisses down your body.

you moaned lightly from feeling matt’s touch, your moan was music to matt’s ears.

as matt’s hand trailed down to your panties, he looked at you, silently asking for permission. after you said yes, he slipped your underwear off and threw it to the side.

“y/n? can i ask you something?” matt’s gentle voice beamed throughout the room. “hm?” you mumbled, looking up at him. you were completely naked beneath him, his blue eyes locked with yours.

“have you ever touched yourself?” he asked you. you shook your head. “no…is that bad?” you whispered, looking at him with worry in your eyes.

“not at all love, that’s okay!” matt reassured.

you started feeling slightly overwhelmed. this was really happening, you were about to lose your virginity. it was all hitting you at once. matt noticed the worry in your eyes, he immediately took his hands off of you.

“hey hey hey, what’s going on? what’s wrong?” matt asked you, worry present in his voice. you bit your lip, your hands shaking.

“matt—i’m scared.” your voice wavered as you looked up at him. matt’s gaze softened even more, he gently rubbed the side of your arm.

“y/n…it’s gonna be okay. i’m gonna take care of you, i won’t hurt you, i’ll be as gentle as i can. if you’re ever uncomfy with something i’m doing tell me, okay?” matt quietly explained to you, you nodded your head, feeling better immediately.

“i can talk you through it if you want?” matt requested, you agreed, knowing it would make you feel better if he was talking to you.

“please.” you murmured, matt nodded in understanding. he gently parted your legs, his hands caressing your inner thighs.

your breath hitched as his thumb circled over your clit, it was a weird sensation, but it felt so good. you moaned softly, his thumb gently collecting your slick.

“i’m gonna stretch you out mkay? let me know if you need me to stop.” matt assured, his eyes not leaving yours once. his finger plunged into your pussy, his pace slow and steady as he pumped his finger in and out of you.

“o—oh my g—gosh..” you moaned out, your back arching against the bed as matt quickened his pace slightly, making sure he wasn’t hurting you.

you felt the burn of the stretch, but it quickly disappeared and turned into pleasure as your moans filled the room.

“mm..feel good?” matt mumbled, his voice wavering. you were so attractive in this state, he could do this for hours.

“s—so good..” you whimpered as he added another finger. matt pulled out his fingers from your core, sucking them in his mouth with a loud pop.

he quickly took off his pants and boxers, his dick springing out. your eyes widened, how in the world was that going to fit?

“matt, how exactly are you going to fit!?” you spoke frantically, sitting up slightly. he chuckled lightly as he applied lube to his length and spread some against your folds.

“it’ll fit lovey, don’t worry okay?” he gently pushed you back down, taking your hand in his as he softly kissed your temple.

“if you don’t like it make sure you tell me, yeah?” matt spoke, squeezing your hand in reassurance and comfort.

“first, i want you to take a nice deep breath f’me okay sweetheart?” matt instructed, exaggerating his breaths so you could copy. you took a deep breath like he asked, matt nodded in satisfaction.

“ready?” he asked you when you finally relaxed, looking down at your face as you smiled and nodded.

you both locked eyes as he slowly slid in, eliciting a mix between a gasp and moan as he did so. it hurt a lot, but you were slowly adjusting to the new feeling.

“you okay?” matt checked in on you, watching your face contort. “want me to pull out?”

“no no…just feels weird.” you express. matt nodded, gently pushing a hair out of your face as he did so. “i know, it’ll feel like that for a bit.” matt chuckled.

“can i move?” he asked, you nodded. you gasped as matt pushed further into you, it felt like you were in a whole different world, the pain quickly went away and turned into pleasure.

“matt..feels good.” you moan out, matt smiles, slowly beginning to thrust into you at a moderate pace, not going too fast. he squeezed your hand, making sure you were okay in between.

“shit baby—takin’ me so well, such a good girl..” matt praised, continuing his slow and steady thrusts as you felt a knot in your stomach form.

your whimpers and moans beamed throughout the dimly lit room, you could feel your eyes rolling to the back of your head almost.

matt leaned into you, grabbing your face gently with his hand. “is it okay if i kiss you?” matt asked you, his voice barely above a whisper.

“more than okay.” you smiled, your first kiss had to be with matt, he was the only person you’d want it to be with.

matt nodded, his thrusts as gentle as ever as he cupped your cheeks. both of your eyes fluttered closed and matt leaned into you, his soft and moisturized lips connecting with yours.

he groaned into the kiss, his hand sliding down to hold the side of your neck. you let matt guide you, but you eventually got the hang of it. you felt matt’s stubble against your cheeks as his tongue swiped against your bottom lip.

without warning, you could feel the knot in your burst, so did matt. you came with one last moan of matt’s name, feeling a weight lifted off your shoulders.

matt pulled out of you, wiping the sweat on your forehead away. he kissed your temple and buried his face into the crook of your neck.

“did so good for me pretty, took me so well…s’proud of you.” matt whispered with love and care in his voice.

“thank you matt.” you whispered back, your hand tangling into his hair. matt shook his head.

“don’t thank me, love.” he replied, picking his head up and looking at you, he attacked your face and neck with kisses, making you squeal in excitement.

“i’m no longer a virgin.” you smiled stupidly at him, matt laughed at how cute you looked right now.

“come on, let’s clean you up.” matt spoke, still laughing a little as he picked you up and carried you to the bathroom.

© delilahsturniolo

join the taglist here! ✨

[lucygraysboy]

“you’re somethin’ else, lucy gray,” billy just laughs, very much unsure whether he should believe her or not about this sudden need for sexual exploration. “hell, i’ve been robbed then. i really wanted those peter pan undies.” but now that he’s thinking about it, he doesn’t see the reason why all the other disney characters can be on kids’ underwear and peter pan can’t. his ma probably wasn’t looking for them. he can’t really blame her, though. she had more important matters to tend to. “of course,” growing serious for a moment, he offers her a smile and allows his fingers to linger on her wrist a minute longer, “i’ll always take care of you, lucy gray. it’s what we do.” other people won’t understand what they’ve been through, why they’re still so close, why one can’t live without the other. funny how he was naive enough to think that blair would be able to give him this. “no, it’s good, but i’m full.” following her gaze, he analyzes the contents of his plate and then glances over at hers. “how was yours?” his fingers eventually let go of her wrist, but not without reluctance. it’s muscle memory at this point — holding her hand. “i’ve always been so disappointed that there’s no disney princess who looks exactly like you. i mean, belle has similar hair, jasmine has your olive skin, rapunzel is fun and spontaneous like you, snow white loves animals and aurora sings so beautifully, but… you’re one of a kind. my rainbow princess.” god, why is he saying these things? he wants to scold himself but can’t, pale blue eyes gazing lovingly across the table at the one girl whose name is tattooed on his heart. “you’re very welcome, birdie.” laughing even though he can barely breathe, he watches her enjoy a piece of baked alaska and thinks to himself that she’s as cute as a button. for a second, as she leans in, his hearts stops completely and he’s certain she’s about to kiss him on the lips. even the tips of his ears turn red and he can hear the blood buzzing in his veins. swallowing harshly, he’s frozen in place, anticipating and fearing her next move. her lips miss his by an inch, planting a sweet, sticky kiss to his cheek, and still, his heart refuses to recover. his eyes flicker to her lips, so plump and soft and sweet. he’s tempted to cup her face and pull her in for yet another, this time proper kiss, but his conscience stops him from doing that. instead, he lets out a sheepish chuckle, taking his napkin, folding it over his fingertip and wiping her mouth clean before doing the same thing to his own face. “mm, what a sweet surprise that was.” 

“that is true, i do get the best of both worlds now.” lucy gray winks, dying to laugh at this reaction. it’s better than she expected. “well maybe they do make peter pan, darlin’. they make mickey and he’s a disney character so why not?” maybe his mom just didn’t look in the right places. “that’s sweet of you.” voice coos, holding her fork and head tilting in affection as a loving look fills her eyes. she wants to kiss him for it, but can’t and scolds herself for even having those thoughts. but… why not think about it? it’s so kind of him to take care of her like that and she treasures honest, kind actions like that out of people. and then… he looks so handsome. her body wanting to attack him in kisses, studying his mouth again, has her annoyed she keeps doing this. IT keeps doing this. “you don’t like your salad?” she concernedly wonders, gaze falling down on his food. “oh, of course not.” voice drops in a disappointed tone, brows scrunching together because she’d never say her sweet little billy she met that day was beast. his outfit didn’t mean a thing to her. “for you, for takin’ care of me and ridiculously havin’ to brush my teeth, take my makeup off, give me a bath and put my jammas on,” she laughs affectionately, but somewhat feeling embarrassed. letting him have his bite, she grins once he takes it then eyes fall on his incoming fork with his dessert. curiously, she leans it and quickly steals the bite to see what it tastes like. confusion knits her brows then the second she tastes ice cream, eyes light up, being vocal about her love for the flavor once she swallows, “oh, that one’s delicious. i LOVE that one.” meringue stuck to her lip, she giggles and uses it an excuse to kiss him on the cheek to leave a sticky kiss.

[ink-perfect]

short n sweet 2024 ⋆. masterlist ⋆. @creamflix

it all began with a vase. 

a very expensive vase. 

the kind you were supposed to admire from afar, with your hands buried deep into your pockets to ensure you wouldn’t even accidentally touch it.

and it was megumi’s pride and joy, though he’d never outright admit it. instead, if anyone dared approach it, he'd throw out a dry warning like, “careful. that vase is worth more than your life,” before quickly diverting his attention back to whatever menial task he was pretending to do. it was a classic megumi move - a nonchalant comment carrying an unspoken threat. 

ryomen sukuna, however, clearly hadn’t got the memo.

or, well, he had, but instead just chose to roll his eyes and mutter something about “stupid rules” before poking the vase, “just to see how sturdy it was”. 

spoiler alert: it wasn’t.  

which led you to the sight currently in front of you: sukuna crouched in the living room, two of his arms holding up the jagged remains of the once-antique while the other two tried to… glue?...tape? what even was that in his hand?  

“sukkun, is that…gum?” you asked incredulously, watching him smear yet another suspiciously soggy wad across the porcelain. 

he froze immediately. four crimson eyes swivelled to look up at you, wide like a puppy’s—well, like a puppy who’d just eaten the couch cushions. 

“it’s…structural,” he finally grumbled in response, as if this was a completely logical explanation. but you could see through his facade—the slight twitch of his eyes and the way his neck stiffened—that he was starting to grow frustrated. a smirk crept its way onto your face as you began to speak. 

“aww, you messed up real bad, didn’t ya?”  

“no.” 

you raised an eyebrow.  

“…maybe.”  

“suuukkuuunnnn,” you probed, smile growing even wider.

“fine, i messed up!” his lower set of arms snapped in exasperation, sending a shard of the vase skidding across the floor. 

you sighed dramatically, pinching the bridge of your nose in mock concern. “yeah you did. do you even know what you’re doing now?”

“i’m figuring it out!” he barked. “stop hovering! i’ve got this.”  

to prove his point, he grabbed a piece of duct tape and slapped it across the largest crack. then another. and another. by the time he was done, the vase looked like it had gone ten rounds in a back alley and lost. brutally. 

you sighed deeply for what felt like the millionth time, but despite the absolute disaster before you, something about sukuna—this terrifying, all-powerful curse—desperately trying to fix his mess with fuckass gum and duct tape made you chuckle. “move over,” you said, shuffling in closer to inspect the task at hand.  

“what are you—hey!” he yelped as you snatched the vase from his hands. “wait, you’re going to ruin all my hard work!”  

“relaaaaax. i’ve watched, like, three vase repair tutorials.” you tossed away the duct tape and grabbed a tube of superglue off his table instead (man, where did he get this frankenstein ahh toolkit?) and squeezed a generous glob onto one of the pieces.  

“that’s going to take too long—”

“boy, shh. let me work.” 

and you did, intricately piecing the vase together, grinning with the confidence you gained at every matched shard. soon enough, you began to pick up the pace, showing off to sukuna as he grunted in response.

but ah, pride was the first of the seven deadly sins for a reason.

“hey! be careful—” sukuna began, but it was too late.  

“...uh-oh.”  

“what do you mean, ‘uh-oh’?!”  

“it’s fine!” you said, waving your hand wildly. “i’ve got it under control.”  

“no, you don’t! you just glued yourself to the shard!” sukuna snapped, hands reaching to wrestle the vase back from you. 

“no, you let it go, i got this!” you protested, pulling the vase back as if your life depended on it. but he was too quick, his fingers already tightening around the other side. henceforth, a tug-of-war broke out, both of you yanking the vase back and forth like little kids. 

and in all this chaos the vase predictably fell to the floor yet again, breaking into at least triple the amount of pieces it had been in before.  

“...oops.”  

“oops?!” sukuna was death-staring you so hard you didn't even have to look up to know. “that’s all you have to say?!”

“okay, okay, new plan!” you chuckled nervously. “we just, uh—hide the evidence?”  

“oh, sure. genius idea. let’s bury it in the backyard. nobody will notice the literal king of curses covered in dirt.”  

you shot him a look. “got a better idea, king?” 

his jaw clenched. “yeah, actually. just give me the glue—”  

“wait don’t pull, it’s still stuck to my—ow!”  

and at that very moment, the door swung wide open. megumi stepped in, eyes immediately narrowing as they scanned the room. “why does it smell like mint and glue in here…oh.” 

you and sukuna were frozen, a perfect portrait of disaster: the vase shattered into a million jagged pieces, somehow even more shards stuck to your hand now, sukuna clutching the superglue as if it might explode at any moment. megumi’s gaze shot up to the two of you, a rare blind rage—something close to fire—igniting in his eyes.

but before he could even speak, you and sukuna both jabbed fingers at each other and shouted in perfect unison:  

“it wasn’t me!”  

© ink-perfect; est. 2024.

[hoonven]

IS IT NEW YEARS YET?

1.2K ⸺ a christmas hater and a christmas lover find themselves in the kitchen of a cozy apartment, trading sarcasm, small talk, and maybe a little more

PAIRING! yang jungwon x female reader

GENRES! fluff, comedy, frenemies trope

PLAYLIST! is it new years yet? by sabrina carpenter

WARNINGS! reader doesn't like christmas, reader drinks cocoa

December is a prison.

Everywhere you look, someone is trying to shove some holiday cheer down your throat. You hate it. The blinding, glittering lights and tinny jingles that cause a headache trying way too hard to convince you that this is the most wonderful time of the year.

The relentless cheer, the endless loop of Mariah Carey in every store, the corny hallmark movies, inflatable Santas, and people pretending eggnog is drinkable and fruitcake is edible. You don’t buy it. For you, December is just another month to survive, one suffocating under an avalanche of forced cheer and bad decisions disguised as tradition. The music, the sweaters, the increase of whining children—it’s all too much.

Yet here you are, trapped in a Christmas Eve party that feels more like a hostage situation. You’d planned on staying home with a glass of wine and a movie that didn’t feature talking reindeer or falling snow, but your friend—if you can even call her that—insisted. And because you have a masochistic streak, or maybe just a lack of willpower, you showed up.

You’ve stationed yourself in the kitchen, it’s quieter here, a sanctuary compared to the crowded living room packed with people you barely know, all laughing too loudly and swapping gifts you’re certain will end up in a landfill by February.

You’ve been hiding out here for the past twenty minutes, nursing a drink and hoping no one will notice your absence. Arms crossed, leaning against the counter, glaring at the glittery centerpiece on the table like it personally offended you, and your expression screams don’t talk to me.

“Well, if it isn’t our resident holiday killjoy.”

You don't have to look to know who it is. The voice is unmistakable—light, teasing, and annoyingly smug.

Jungwon.

You glance at him anyway, because ignoring him won’t make him go away.

He’s leaning against the doorway, his ridiculous Christmas sweater somehow managing to look good on him. It’s got a snowman with googly eyes, and you want to hate it, but the worst part is you don’t. His grin is as infuriating as always—bright, mischievous, and unbothered, his eyes sparkling with amusement as he takes in your miserable expression.

“And here I thought you were too busy decking the halls to notice me,” you reply, your voice dripping with sarcasm.

He smirks, stepping into the kitchen like he owns the place. “Oh, I noticed you. You’re kind of hard to miss when you’re the only person in this joint giving off Scrooge energy.”

“I’m not giving off Scrooge energy,” you snap, though you are. “I’m avoiding unnecessary human interaction, which, by the way, you’re currently ruining.”

Jungwon doesn’t take the hint. He never does. Instead, he grabs a cookie off the counter, takes a bite, and leans casually against the counter next to you. “So, what’s the escape plan? Gonna fake a tummy ache or claim you have to leave early because of some elaborate story you clearly just made up?”

You decide not to admit it was the latter, the last thing you need tonight is to prove Jungwon right.

“I was thinking of just walking out,” you say dryly. “No excuses. Just leave.”

He snorts. “Bold move. Very on-brand for you.”

Finally, you turn to face him, narrowing your eyes. “Why are you here, Jungwon? Don’t you have some caroling to do or a snowman to build?”

He grins, unfazed by your sarcasm. “Oh, I’ve already done both. I'm here to check on you, you know, like Cindy Lou Who did for the Grinch?”

“Your heart is two sizes too small,” he says, and proceeds to make the dumbest sad face you've ever seen.

You try to fight the tiny smile tugging at your lips but fail. Jungwon notices, of course, because he notices everything.

“See? I knew you didn't hate Christmas that much,” he says, triumphantly.

You sigh, crossing your arms. “I don’t hate it. I just don’t see the point. It’s loud, obnoxious, and overrated.”

“Or,” he counters, gesturing toward the living room, where people are laughing and exchanging gifts by a sparkling tree. “It's about that.”

You raise an eyebrow, skeptical. But there's a slight tug at your heartstrings as you watch a girl hug her friend with tears pricking her eyes. “What exactly are we looking at?”

He tilts his head, studying you with that irritatingly perceptive gaze of his. “You know, you’re like a walking anti-Christmas PSA. It’s impressive, really.”

You roll your eyes. “And you’ve clearly auditioned for Santa’s favorite elf.”

“Wrong. I’m more of a ‘holiday mischief maker,’” he says, wiggling his eyebrows. “And right now, my mission is to annoy you with all the holiday cheer I can possibly muster.”

You glare at him, but there’s no real heat behind it. The worst part is, Jungwon is so annoyingly persistent and unshakably optimistic that part of you almost envies him. Almost.

“It's nice.” you shrug. “But not everyone thinks this season is magical, you know.”

“Ah, I see. You’re one of those people who hates Christmas because it never lives up to the hype.”

You pause, caught off guard by how easily he’s summed you up. “It’s not about the hype,” you say finally, avoiding his gaze. “It’s about how empty it all feels. Everyone’s running around acting like this one day is supposed to fix everything, but it doesn’t. We’ll all go back to our regular lives the next day like none of it ever happened.”

He doesn’t respond right away, and for a second, you think you’ve actually managed to scare him off. But then he leans closer, his voice softer now, less playful. “You know what I think? I think you’re trying so hard not to care that you’ve forgotten how to let yourself enjoy the small stuff.”

You blink at him, thrown by the sudden sincerity in his tone. “And you’re suddenly the expert on what I need?”

“Not an expert,” he says, his grin returning. “Just observant.”

He gestures toward the party again. “Look, I get it. The holidays can be a lot. But they can also be kind of great, if you let them. Like right now—this could be one of those moments you look back on, and it’s not about the decorations or the music. It’s just… people. Being together. Isn’t that worth something?”

You arch an eyebrow. “Do you hear yourself right now? You sound like a Hallmark movie character.”

“And you sound like someone who’s never actually tried to enjoy Christmas,” he shoots back, smirking.

You snort, shaking your head. “I can't believe people really believe all that.”

“Well, I do.” He holds up his cookie like a toast. “And by the end of the night, I’m betting I’ll convince you too.”

“Well, don’t hold your breath,” you say, reaching for the mug of cocoa that was surprisingly still warm and taking a sip. It’s too sweet, just like everything else tonight, but somehow, with Jungwon standing there, it doesn’t feel quite as unbearable.

And for a moment, you let yourself enjoy it.

“Don’t worry,” he says with a wink. “I’m patient.”

“Good luck with that,” you mutter, but there’s a faint smile tugging at the corner of your lips now, one you can’t quite suppress.

Jungwon notices, of course. He always does. You imagine he always will. And as much as you hate to admit it, you’re kind of glad he came into the kitchen.

December was a bore, and you were sick and tired of this holiday, but small talk in the kitchen with Yang Jungwon wasn't half bad.

© 2024 hoonven, all rights reserved. i do not give permission to modify, repost, translate, or plagiarize my works on any platform. NETWORK! @kstrucknet

[pickyourpoisonandevolve]

Hello, have you also been struck with an inane desire to kiss the CoD boys? Did the brainrot demon whisper in your ear “go fuck the masked man, the mustache man, and the Scottish man?” Well you’re in luck. My sleep deprivation vomited this out last night, I did not check for errors and I have NOT played MW. Sorry to all the Gaz fans out there, I genuinely forgot to include him. Sometimes you just gotta purge the fic poltergeists in your brain. I’m sorry. John up next when the demon returns.

All for One, One for All

Part 2 here

TW: NSFW, MDNI, fem reader. I’m bad at tags, sorry.

Down time with the 141 was always a grab bag. If a mission went well it was celebratory, others were solemn. Either way, the group was comfortable enough to have a … physical connection with each other. Hugs and words of comfort common after missions. Hands through hair as you all shared stresses together. But while everyone had a baseline comfortability, as the newbie, you lost out on some of the camaraderie, some of the closeness. It drove you fucking insane.

That’s why you were barely holding it together as Soap and you were close on the couch in the break room, legs tangled as you talked about everything and nothing. The recent mission, what they were doing on leave, cute new recruits. He was always the easiest to talk to, decompress with. Quick to anxieties with, as well as who you both had … predilections to. A master of weaseling his way into talking about your respective secret desires. Like how he had been spending spare time with Ghost on off days. How you couldn’t keep eye contact with your Captain.

Missions were different, there were tasks at hand and jobs to do. But with Price, his hands comforting, ready to protect seemed to linger between you and him, longer than others. Yet you couldn’t keep conversations longer than a few minutes when you debriefed in meetings. Too much perception, you felt like dissolving when his attention was on you too long. You kept the intensity of how much you wanted your Captain to yourself though. You wonder how Soap did it with your Lieutenant. You picked at your hangnails, seemed like you could even smell them nearby, cigarette and cigar smoke lingering in your olfactory memory.

A longing, you told Soap, with your head in your hands, avoiding the embarrassment of eye contact. Stuttering through it, you described the longing, the need for belonging. “You all made it look so easy, it WAS so easy,” You lament. You got here too late, missed the boat on inclusion in the 141. No more room at the inn. They meant everything to you, they were your whole world. And the sneaking ache that you could die tomorrow and they’d move on clawed at your ribcage endlessly. You just… wanted to feel like you meant something to to them, to someone. Wanted someone to steal all the silence in your mind and fill it with warmth. With touch. With lov—

“To someone? Or to him?” You heard, through the static in your ears. The tears you’ve been fighting finally make an appearance.

“Bonnie, hey, darl’,” Soap whispered to you, bringing his lips to your forehead, fingers through your temples. Shh, shh, shh, everything was okay and that the team was here for you. He was here for you. Quieting your mind, his hands ran through your hair and lingered to your neck. You closed your eyes, trying not to feel overwhelmed. “I should have kept my mouth shut you don’t have to pity me.” You said, gently trying to push Soap back.

“Who the fuck said anything about pity.” A different, deeper voice in your ear this time. Panic floods your body as you feel a second pair of hands slide around your shoulders. “No, no, no Ghost, please don’t I’m sorry I shouldn’t—,” you stammer out, fight and flight winning simultaneously as you push immovable bodies and try to pull yourself away. Why you thought that was possible with these two men was beyond you.

Vice grips pull you back down, holding you close to both men’s chests. “Breathe, sergeant.” Delivered as a command. That part of your brain still seemed to function as you took deep breaths, not noticing how Ghost positioned himself on the couch. Leaning back at an angle, he pulled you in his lap, back against his chest and arms around your waist. Feeling his breath against the nape of your neck, steadying, matching his breathing. The smell of cigarettes, pine and sweat fill your senses. Soap slotted himself between both of your legs, into your lap, eyes keeping your focus. Knowing looking at Ghost would throw you completely askew. Ever the team, those two, you thought briefly.

Minutes went by in silence as your breathing slowed, heartbeat returned to normal. Ghost gave you one of his hands to fuss with as you calmed, testing the waters, getting used to him. His other hand carded through Soaps hair, lying in your lap. His nose nuzzled your neck as he broke the silence. “I’m, we’re, sorry for making you feel like the odd man out, sweetheart. Should have done a better job as your lieutenant to make you feel a part of the team.” He took the hand lying in yours and brought it to your stomach, bringing you closer into his chest, rubbing lazy circles. “This is… a lot to some. Who we are as a team. As much as we wanted to bring you in, we didn’t want to scare you away neither.”

“But for what it’s worth, ever since you got here,” Ghost growls, pinky grabbing the edge of your shirt, pulling upwards. “You’ve been ours.”

Everything seemed to move at once. Ghosts hands now on your body properly, exploring your curves and pulling you into him deeper. Soap chuckled lightly, his hands now caressing your hips and breathing into your waistline, peering up at you with big beautiful eyes. “Ours in the royal sense, LT. She’s been called f—“ his words cut off as a rough hand at the back of his head pressed him into your pussy. “Hmm, he’s a lot cuter when he’s down there, huh?” Ghost chuckles into your shoulder. Your heart feels like it’s in your throat, your hands come up and try to meet his, unsure of if you’re trying to push him away or pull him closer. His arms come around and lock yours in place as Soap is released and fingers start to play with the button on your pants. “Let us make up for some lost time, sweetheart,” he growls into your shoulder.

Sheer panic, or disassociation, you’re not sure what gets you through the next moment. But either way it feels like an eternity, watching Soap pull down your pants and panties, feeling Ghost caress the valley between your tits, ambiently trying to steady your heart. Mumbling both to you and himself, he repositions you ever so slightly in his lap, bringing your ass tighter into his hips and spreading your thighs across his, giving Soap better access. “Have no fucking idea how bad we’ve needed you, bird. Been dreaming about your fucking body, how you smell, what you taste like.” You feel his hardness start, pushing up against your ass. Your deep breaths start turning into soft moans, and both men groan into you. Soap kisses you gently on your thighs, leading a trail to your core, nipping you along the way. You feel like glass, any sudden movement and you’ll shatter into Ghosts arms, heart too raw, wants too real. Ghost feels your tension and wraps one arm around your waist as the other brings your shirt above your tits, exposing them to the cold room. His free hand teasing a nipple as he whispered “Stay with me, baby.”

A strangled sound left your throat as you felt Soap’s tongue separate your lips and meet your clit. “Johnny, please, oh God.” Feeling his tongue work you open, you can only focus on your breathing so you don’t float away. Ghost adjusts something behind you as you feel two fingers slide in gently. Broken moans and pleas leave your mouth as you feel lips against your neck, kissing, biting. “Tell me how he feels bird.” Ghost murmurs. Fingers moving faster, faster as Soap attacks your clit. You chance a look down as you meet his eyes, his mouth breaking out into the biggest smile as he lifts his face briefly. A man this pretty should be illegal, you think. “Tell me, bonnie. Tell me what you want.” A sound you’d be downright ashamed of leaves your mouth, clenching around his fingers. “Fuck Soap, I want you, I want—“ His fingers start working your g-spot faster as he teases, “Use your words, bon. I wanna hear you say it.”

“I wanna, I wanna cum Johnny, please” you say in barely a whisper as he coaxes it out of you. All you feel is the cord in your stomach break as every muscle in your body tenses. Soap laughing into your clit, Ghost licking and moaning in your ear, that you belong to us, all of us. A distant part of you wonders why things sound so wet as you look down to Soaps eyes, crinkled as he makes you watch yourself squirt into his mouth.

“Oh my god, oh my god,” you chant as Soap sucks your clit, bringing you down. Everything feels wet, you can feel it at your knees. This couch is gonna have to be burned. Soap gives one last suck to your clit, coming off with a pop. Ghosts breath comes out in short bursts as you feel him grind hard into your ass, grunting in your ear. Soap comes up and grabs you tenderly by your face, kissing you gently, deeply, making you taste. Bringing his forehead to yours, he looks at you, so tender it makes your heart stop. “Told ya we’re here. Cannae do it without ya, sweet.”

Hands gently lay you down on the couch as you remember what your limbs are supposed to feel like. A kiss from each on your forehead as Ghost says “You did so good, sweetheart. I’m gonna take care of our boy here, you stay put, yeah?” Your breathing starts to return to normal, letting feelings flood back slowly. “Oh, okay.” You whisper out, taking a deep breath and sitting up slightly. The big feelings start to creep back in, but a little less heavy. Tears start to flow, not from sadness but something else. You sniff away some of the emotions. “Are we, are we okay, is, oh my god what is Price, what—“ Soap is quick to take a knee next to you, kissing your tears away and cooing shhhh’s in your ear. You’ve been so distracted by this attention that you finally notice the smell in the room, stronger than earlier. Cloves, a sweetness, cigar smoke.

Your head snaps back to the chair across from you all, and your breath dies in your throat. Blue eyes locked into yours, like he’s never looked at anything else. He crushes the last of his cigar into the ashtray beside him and leans forward, hands gripping his knees tightly. “You broken, sweetheart?”

[daydreamtofiction]

The Feature XXIII // Benedict Cumberbatch x Reader

Series Overview | Previous Part | First Part

Chapter Summary: (Female Reader) Ben and Quinn's relationship continues to flourish, but an unexpected encounter threatens to throw a spanner in the works.

Chapter Word Count: 6.3K

Chapter Warnings: Morally-grey reader, strong language, adult and sexual themes. Readers must be 18+

Join the Tag List Here*

The sun sat low behind the skyline, making the clouds blush, drenching everything in a gleaming golden hue. You sat with your legs crossed under the long table, laptop open in front of you as the conference room slowly filled with people, the murmur of conversation and scent of coffee drifting in with them. 

The chair beside you creaked and a hand quickly reached over to mash on your keyboard, forming a line of gibberish across the blank word document. You rolled your eyes, smacking the top of Nick’s hand before turning to him with an unamused glare. 

He smirked, leaning back in his chair. “Not like you to be the first one at a meeting.” 

“Mm, well I’ve been coming into the office to write. Been here all day,” you replied, sighing as you glanced back to the empty page on the screen. “Can’t focus at home. Too many distractions.”

“Tall, rich, handsome distractions…” 

“No,” you said bluntly, though there was a part of you that secretly agreed with him. “I just… If I try to write at home I just end up watching TV or falling asleep or… suddenly realising I haven’t seen my passport in a year and turning the place upside down to look for it.” 

“How’s it going?” 

“I found it, it was in an old makeup bag in my bathroom cabinet.” 

“Not the passport, dick head, the writing.” 

“Oh.” You sighed. “Well I had a few edits I needed to do for the gala article, then I wrote a listicle about moisturisers. Thrilling stuff.” 

He nodded. “You’re still fuming about your op ed, aren’t you.” 

“Yep.” 

Julia stepped into the room, closing the door behind her and making her way to the large windows. You watched as she lowered the blinds, shielding the room from the bright evening sun as she began to speak. 

“Hello everyone,” she began, her tone cheerful yet commanding. “Thank you all for coming in. Just a quick one today to delegate some coverage pieces.” 

You placed your fingers on the keys of your laptop, eyes fixed on her as she moved to the head of the table, Leo McGrath’s advice still ringing in your ears. 

“Let’s see,” she said, licking her thumb and flicking through a folder in front of her. “I need someone to cover an exhibition at the London Fashion and Textile museum this Friday-”

“I’ll do it,” you said. 

She arched her brow sceptically, before shaking it away and scrawling your name down with her pen. “Okay great. Then we also have a launch party for Roe - some influencer’s new makeup brand apparently-”

“I’ll do that too,” you said. 

A few of the other writers glanced at you in confusion, your willingness to volunteer so surprising that they couldn’t help but stare. 

“Okay…” said Julia suspiciously. “And Draft’s been invited to a Q&A for-”

“I’ll do it.” 

“Quinn, you haven’t even heard what it is yet,” she said, holding back the urge to snap at you. 

You heard Nick chuckling quietly to himself. You ignored it and gave a shrug. 

“Just… feel like taking on more work, that’s all,” you said. 

“Right, well the beauty launch and the Q&A are on the same night,” she replied. “One in Chelsea and one in Mayfair. So are you planning to teleport between them?” 

A murmur of reserved laughter rippled around the table. 

“Fine, well someone else can do the Q&A,” you said. “Or, y’know, I’ll figure out the teleportation thing.” 

Julia rolled her eyes, turning her attention to someone else. 

“You’re going to send her into early retirement,” Nick whispered to you. 

You breathed out a laugh. “I’m an editorial assistant’s worst nightmare.” 

You returned to your desk after the meeting, scrolling through pages of reviews to figure out which moisturiser would take the number one spot on your listicle. It was mind numbing, pointless, filling you with the temptation to find the worst rated cream and give it a glowing write up, just to mess with readers, see how many complaints you could rack up.

Your phone buzzed on the desk. You rubbed your eyes, blinking away the glare of the computer screen before looking down at it, your mood immediately shifting to something less weary. 

Are you still in work? It read.

I am, you replied, catching a smile before it spread across your face. 

Are you almost done? 

I can be done whenever I want. Why?  

I’m outside the building.

Your heartbeat quickened, and you grimaced to yourself in embarrassment. Yet still you packed up quickly, shoving everything into your bag and rushing to the stairs, too impatient to wait for the lift.  

You stepped out onto the street, the air cold as it brushed across your skin, despite the glorious sky. You wrapped your arms around yourself as you glanced up and down the busy street, brow furrowed as you searched for him amongst the sea of pedestrians. 

A familiar black car sat idled further up the road, wheels bumped up on the kerb, tinted windows shrouding the driver in darkness. You made your way over to it, peering down as the passenger window lowered, just enough to reveal Ben smiling at you from the driver’s seat. 

“What’s this about?” you asked.

“I fly out tomorrow morning, wanted to see you before I go,” he replied. 

You felt your cheeks warm as you stepped closer to the car, glancing around at the bustling street. “This was risky of you.” 

“Only if you don’t hurry up and get in.”

You slipped into the car and closed the door quickly, throwing your bag into the backseat as he began to drive. 

“I didn’t think you were leaving until Wednesday,” you said. 

He shook his head. “I got my days mixed up, it’s tomorrow.” 

Your lips curled into a pout, like a disappointed child. He glanced over at you and gave a soft laugh, reaching over to place a hand on your thigh. 

“You know, there’s still time for you to change your mind and come with me,” he said. 

You exhaled a cynical laugh through your nose. “Yeah, I’ll just drop everything to follow you on your press tour.” 

He gave your thigh a gentle squeeze. “It would be nice to have you with me. Think about it; fancy hotels, big beds, deep bathtubs, me, completely at your disposal…” 

“Hm, tempting. But I have to work. Not all of us can just jet off whenever we feel like it.” 

He let out an exaggerated puff of air. “Who needs work? You don’t need to work. I’ll take care of you.” 

“Shut up.” You scoffed, giving him a playful shove. “You don’t mean that.”

He chuckled. “I know I don’t. But in all seriousness though, it would be nice to have you with me. You could write on the plane.” 

“Stop it,” you laughed. “I’m not coming.” 

He pulled into the carpark of a hotel you’d always admired but never been inside. It was breathtaking, a blend of grand architecture and modern details; glass and stone, steel and marble. It was a place celebrities went for drinks or a private brunch without having to worry about mere mortals and prying eyes, a threshold you’d never held the status to cross. 

It felt bizarre to walk with him so openly, to stroll through the foyer side by side without fear of being spotted; no flashing cameras, no screaming fans, no nosy reporters. An employee led you into a lift, and you couldn’t help but flash a suspicious glare at Ben as you passed each floor, wondering how long he’d had all of this planned. 

You stepped out on the top floor, following behind Ben as he made polite smalltalk with the employee on the way to your room. You found yourself fixing your hair and straightening your clothes as you went, as though the building itself was judging you; offended that you could walk its carpets in a pair of trainers, grace its corridors in some well-worn jeans and an old cardigan. 

When Ben opened the door to the suite, you felt your breath still for a moment. It was bigger than your entire flat; bedrooms, bathrooms, a kitchenette and large, open living area. Beyond a set of glass doors was a private terrace. You stepped out into the fresh, cool air, taking in the London skyline as it wrapped around the entire balcony. 

The terrace was framed with warm, glowing lights and draping greenery, the city like a glittering tapestry as the sun began to disappear below the horizon. A table stood in the centre, a bottle of champagne resting inside an ice bucket beside it. 

You turned to Ben. “This is… subtle.” 

He smirked, shrugging off his jacket and draping it over the back of one of the chairs. "You like it."

“Says who?” you teased, brushing past him to lean your elbows on the railing, taking in the view. 

He followed, his hands finding your waist and pulling you gently back against him. “Me.”

Your mouth twitched with a smile. “If this is all a ploy to make me say it back…”

“You think I brought you here to trick you into saying you love me?” he asked, his tone soft yet playful, lips brushing against your ear. “I don’t need to hear it, Quinn, I already know you do.” 

The words made your stomach flutter, but you refused to let it show. “Bullshit.” 

He chuckled, spinning you around to face him. “You’re a terrible liar.”

You found yourself staring up at him in awe. He was so confident, so certain. It had been a week since he’d said those words, yet he didn’t seem to care that you still hadn’t said it back; his ego unbruised, like he knew you too well, understood you better than anyone ever had. 

Your protest died in your throat when his lips grazed your temple, lingering there as he pressed his body against yours, hands sliding down to your backside.

“This isn’t fair,” you murmured, your fingers dancing over the buttons of his shirt.

“What’s not fair?” he asked, lips trailing down to your cheek, your jaw, before pressing a soft kiss to the side of your neck. 

“You. Being so… smug.”

“I’m not smug,” he said, though the glint in his eye contradicted him. “Can’t a man treat his girlfriend to a nice evening without being accused of ulterior motives?” 

You shook your head, suppressing a laugh. “There you go again, saying we’re a couple.” 

“Because we are.” His grip on you tightened, his voice deepening. “If I asked you outright, you’d make me beg. And I’m not above begging, but I’d rather save that for… other things.”

You felt yourself growing hot as his lips found yours, forcing yourself to break away to mutter. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And yet, here you are,” he countered softly, tilting your chin up with his finger and kissing you again. “If you weren’t mine, you wouldn’t keep coming back to me.”

He deepened the kiss, wrapping an arm around your waist, the other gripping the railing behind you. You slid your hands up to his face, feeling yourself melting into him, excitement and anticipation rippling in your core. 

For a man who’d been so strict in his abstinence, the past week had completely unravelled him. He was insatiable, his touch lingering even in the most innocent moments, his kisses turning deeper and hungrier with little provocation. He’d taken every opportunity to make up for the time you’d lost, and you’d welcomed it gladly, savouring the ache that would follow you in the aftermath. 

He broke away, pressing his forehead to yours. “Dinner will be here soon,” he whispered.

You exhaled a laugh. “You ordered for me?” 

“I know what you like.” 

You slipped away to one of several bathrooms, taking off your cardigan and zhuzhing your hair until it sat just right. It was easy sometimes to forget who he was; the money he had, the power he wielded, the status he held that didn’t just surpass yours, but eclipsed it altogether. Whenever it hit you, it would make you feel uneasy; the imbalance throwing you off kilter, making you wonder what he saw in you, why a man who had the world at his fingertips would let himself fall for a single grain of sand. 

When you returned to the terrace, you found him sitting at the table as a waiter lay out a spread of food in front of him; steaming plates and pretty side dishes, a basket of your favourite bread and the dessert you’d been craving for weeks. The smell drifted through the air towards you, making your stomach rumble, your mouth water with hunger. 

You hovered in the doorway as the waiter placed down the last few plates, tucking a tray under his arm when he was done and pushing a large trolley back towards the suite. You stepped aside to let him pass, allowing yourself a moment to take in his face, the name on his badge. Perhaps it was cynical of you to assume he’d go running to the papers, narcissistic even, to think he’d care to.

Ben stood up as you made your way over to him, pulling out your chair for you with a charming smile. 

“This looks amazing,” you said as you sat down, admiring the food in front of you.

He kissed the side of your head and returned to his seat. “Champagne?” 

“Sure.” 

“So,” he began, popping the cork in his fist. “Guess what happened today…” 

You narrowed your eyes, cocking your head slightly. 

“I am officially divorced,” he said, almost beaming at you as he filled your glass. “I got the final order this afternoon. Decree Absolute. It’s done.” 

“Oh wow, congratulations.” 

“Congratulations?” he replied, jokingly mocking your voice. “I’m free, Quinn. No more contractual obligations, no more interviews pretending my marriage was anything other than a glorified business transaction. I can finally move forward. With you.” 

You stifled a smile, instead tapping your finger against your lips with a contemplative hum. “I don’t know. Now that you’re a single man, the excitement’s sort of gone.“

“Oh is that so?” 

“Mhm. I mean, where’s the thrill in sneaking around if it’s not with a married man?” 

He smirked, his eyes flitting to your mouth as you took a sip of champagne. “You need the thrill, hm?” 

You nodded. 

“Well you know what would be thrilling?” 

“What?” 

“Coming to America with me tomorrow.” 

You threw your head back and let out an exaggerated groan, making him chuckle as he began to eat. 

“Was worth a try,” he mumbled.

You talked and ate until the sun went down, until the cold puckered the flesh of your bare arms and numbed the tip of your nose. You sat with your legs outstretched beneath the table, resting comfortably between Ben’s as you listened to him speak - not about work, or divorce, or the two of you - but about his family, his childhood, the things that made him happy and the last time he laughed so hard he couldn’t breathe. 

In the moments you were reminded of his fame, it was easy to feel starcrossed; like there was an entire ocean between you and no way to common ground. But then the moment would pass, giving way to a warm laugh or a tender touch, and suddenly in that ocean would be an island, where you both resided as equals; your own private paradise. 

His hand had found yours across the table, his thumb gently stroking your knuckles as he continued a sweet anecdote about his mother. You’d never been very tactile, finding the hand-holding and arms around shoulders completely embarrassing, the chaste kisses and legs brushing under tables far too soppy. But here you were, chin resting on your fist, the other hand in his, gazing at him as he spoke, without a speck of desire to pull away. 

You laughed softly as you watched him bring a glass to his lips, somehow missing his mouth and spilling champagne down his shirt.

“I’m not drunk, I swear,” he laughed, releasing your hand to pick up a napkin and dab at his chest. 

“What’s that, like a tenner’s worth of champagne you just spilled?” you teased. 

He laughed again, picking up the bottle and looking at it with a hum. “About… forty quid?” 

Your smile dropped. “Tell me you’re joking.” 

“What?” He shrugged. 

“You’re saying we’ve been drinking a £2000 bottle of champagne?” 

“I think it’s closer to three,” he said casually.

“Oh my god! Wh- I- Well then how fucking expensive was all of this!?” you gestured to the terrace, the food, the suite beyond the doors. “Jesus this is like the watch fiasco all over again.” 

“Which I notice you still haven’t worn…” 

You glared at him. 

“Quinn, it’s fine,” he said softly, taking your hand in his again. “I wouldn’t spend it if I didn’t want to.” 

“But why on earth-”

“Why do you feel like you’re not worth it? Like money spent on you is somehow a waste?” 

“Because…” You settled back slightly in your chair, eyes flitting around in thought. “Because it is.” 

His smile faded, his eyes creasing at the corners as he gazed across the table at you. “Do you really believe that?” 

You shrugged, a defensive edge sharpening your posture. “I do.” 

“Well you’re wrong,” he countered bluntly. 

You opened your mouth to argue, but he continued quickly. 

“I know this imbalance between us bothers you. I know you’re independent, and you don’t want to feel like I’m trying to buy you or show off or make you feel indebted to me. But that's not what this is." He gestured to your surroundings, the city lights twinkling in the distance. "If anything, this is me showing you that you’re not a waste - not of my money, or my time, or my affection - none of it’s wasted on you.” 

His sincerity was disarming, how quickly the evening had gone from joking and banter to complete seriousness. You tried to remain neutral, but your eyes betrayed you with a vulnerable glaze, making his face soften, his hand squeezing yours more firmly.

“You are so deeply rooted in my life now that I don’t see any of this as frivolous,” he said. “I just see it as… being with you. No different than sitting on the couch in front of the TV.”

You sighed. 

“What?” he asked quietly.

“I just… I don’t think I can get away with denying this is a relationship anymore, can I.”  

He laughed. “No. No, you can’t.”  

You laughed too, rolling your eyes when you saw a smile creeping across his face. 

“This- us-” he said. “It’s far beyond the secrets and the sneaking around and worrying what strangers might say about me in the fucking papers. I’m not saying I’m ready to go dragging you down red carpets with me, but I like to think that you see it… getting there, maybe, one day…” 

You drew in a deep, cleansing breath through your nose, trying to soothe the nerves creeping into your chest.

“I love you,” he said. “Whether you say it back or not, it doesn’t make it any less true. I love you, Quinn.”

You gazed across at him for a moment, at the warmth in his expression, the vulnerability in his voice. You swallowed past a lump in your throat. “That’s… unfortunate for you,” you said. 

He dropped his head with a deep, throaty chuckle. “I don’t know,” he replied, eyes meeting yours again. “I feel quite fortunate… Most of the time.” 

You scoffed, taking a sip of your - extremely expensive - champagne. 

He gestured with his head for you to come to him. You stood up and walked around the table, settling in his lap and draping an arm around his shoulders. He held you close with a hand on the small of your back, the other reaching up to brush a stray hair from your face as you leaned down to him, lips meeting in a deep, slow kiss. 

“You’re cold,” he whispered, running his hand up and down your bare arm. 

“I’m fine,” you replied.

He shook his head. “Come on, let’s go inside.”

You stood in the living area, staring up at a painting on the wall, head cocked to one side as you wondered if anyone would notice if you stole it. You shook the thought away as the sound of voices and rattling dishes emerged from the terrace, glancing over your shoulder to see the waiter from earlier wheeling away the remnants of your dinner.

Ben thanked him as he left, shutting the door behind him and sliding the chain lock in place. He spun on his heels to look at you from across the vast suite, though his large strides carried him over to you in moments. 

You ran your fingers over the pale yellow stain on his shirt as he wrapped his arms around your waist, and you wondered if you’d ever tire of his embrace, if he would ever tire of embracing you. You hoped not. 

“I have the suite for the night,” he said. “But if you’d rather go home, I can take you. I know you don’t have anything with you so I understand if you wouldn’t want to stay.”

“Hm, my tiny, messy flat or this stunning hotel with you,” you replied, pretending to deliberate with yourself. “What a difficult decision.” 

He laughed, kissing you on the cheek before stepping past you.

“Where are you going?” you asked. 

“Bed,” he replied simply. “Are you coming?” 

“Bed? It’s only half nine…” 

He raised an eyebrow as he backed up slowly towards the master bedroom, waiting for the penny to drop. 

“Oh,” you finally said.

“Yeah,” he replied, reaching out his hand in a gesture for you to join him. 

The car idled quietly on the road outside your flat building, the blue morning sky clear and bright, promising a warm day. You knew you had to leave, to climb out and get ready for work, but every time your hand so much as brushed the door handle, Ben’s lips found yours again. 

Your laugh came breathlessly as you finally pulled back, lips blushed and swollen from his endless kisses. “You’re going to miss your flight.” 

His smile was lazy and unapologetic as he yielded, dropping his head slightly with a gentle sigh. “Can I call you when I get to my hotel?” 

“Yeah, I suppose I’ll allow it.” 

He leaned in, and you couldn’t help but kiss him again, feeling his smile against your lips.

“Don’t miss me too much,” he muttered, his hand sliding through your hair. 

You laughed softly. “I’m sure I’ll manage. I took on a ton of work to keep myself busy.” 

He chuckled, but you quickly swallowed the sound with another kiss, leaning into him with more fervour. 

His hand dropped to the side of your face, the other firmly gripping your thigh; his touch making your stomach coil, the orgasms he’d given you last night still echoing in your core. So many orgasms you were sure you’d still be reeling for the next few days. 

You forced yourself to break away again, shaking away the fluster warming your cheeks. “Okay, you really are going to miss your flight if you don’t go.” 

He leaned back in the driver’s seat, reaching out to brush a stray hair from your face. His touch lingered, stroking your temple before trailing down to your jaw.

“Last chance,” he said. “You sure you don’t want to come with me?”

You hesitated as you looked at him. There had been no pressure in his voice, no coercion in his expression, only a gentle invitation, and you could see in his eyes that he already knew your answer.

“Not this time,” you said, the corner of your mouth curving into a small smile.

He gave a smile that matched yours, like the subtle shift in your answer hadn’t gone unnoticed. No longer a flat refusal or a guarded deflection, but something warmer, an unspoken ‘someday’. 

“Okay,” he said, leaning in for one last kiss. “I’m going to miss you.”

You smiled faintly, your usual sarcasm faltering as you replied. “I’m going to miss you too.”

“Two weeks,” he reassured, though you were uncertain which one of you needed it more. “Just two weeks and I’ll be back.” 

“Yeah, for three days,” you countered. “Before you have to go again.” 

“Well, we better be sure to make the most of those three days.”

You nodded, finally reaching for your bag and opening the door.  

You climbed out and closed it behind you, turning around to lean down and meet his gaze through the open window. 

There was a mournfulness to his expression as he looked at you, like it was physically paining him to let you go. And you understood, because you felt it too; already longing for his return before he’d even left. 

The back of your tongue felt heavy with the words you’d refused to utter, almost like they belonged there, ready to pour out of you like an impulse, as natural as a ‘goodbye’. But something made you swallow them, forcing them back down your throat with a sad smile. 

“Have a safe flight,” you said.  

His fingers drummed lightly on the steering wheel, his eyes never leaving yours. “Bye, darling,” he said, his voice carrying the same forlorn weight as yours.

“Bye.”

You stood on the pavement as he pulled away, watching the car until it disappeared down the street. Only then did you suck in a deep breath, letting it out in a long, slow sigh. You remained there a moment longer, staring at the quiet, empty road before finally turning to go inside.

You stared up at the distinctive orange building of the London Fashion and Textiles museum, accents of bright blue, vivid yellow and hot pink decorating its exterior. You pulled out your phone to snap a picture of the large poster hanging near the entrance - Ornamented: The Art of Embellishment in Fashion - as a healthy crowd filtered inside.

You meandered leisurely through the opening of the exhibition, taking pictures and scrawling quick notes in your book, the extra weight on your wrist catching you off guard whenever you raised your pen to the paper. 

The watch face gleamed beneath the soft lights of the museum, the gold bracelet strap shimmering every time you moved. It had sat safely in its box, tucked away in your underwear drawer since Christmas. Every now and again you would take it out just to look at it, perhaps even put it on, but you would always stow it away soon after, like a child secretly trying on her mother’s expensive clothes.

But you were Ben’s girlfriend now. A fact that made your stomach turn with fear and excitement whenever you thought about it for too long. And as his girlfriend, it somehow felt right to wear a piece of him when he wasn’t with you. 

You walked up to a display encased inside a large glass cabinet; an array of intricately beaded flapper dresses from the 1920’s. Time had discoloured some of them, loosened some seams and lost their sparkle. But still, you found yourself almost pressing your nose to the glass, admiring the meticulous patterns and letting your mind wander to the women who might have worn them. 

You crouched down to the ground, resting on your haunches to steady your notebook on your knee as you scribbled your thoughts. You were making a note of the designer’s name from a nearby placard when footsteps approached you, heels clicking on the concrete floor and stopping at your side. 

“Quinn, isn’t it?” 

You glanced up to find Faye Dennehy glaring down at you, her tall stature even more imposing from your hunched position below her. You felt your lungs empty, your heart thumping in a hollow chest as you rose to your feet, blinking at her a few times before snapping out of your stupor. 

“Yes, it is. And you’re… Faye, right?” you replied. 

It was clear that you both very much knew the other’s name. But if she was going to pretend otherwise, then so were you.

“It’s nice to see you with your clothes on this time,” she said, her light, airy tone masking the sharpness of her words. 

She didn’t know you could be mean. Extremely mean. Brutally, mercilessly, remorselessly cruel. She also didn’t know that you were currently pressing your lips together as a courtesy to her, holding back the venom trying to force its way out. 

You gave a weak, obviously fake chuckle. “Yeah that was… quite the morning, for all of us.” 

She nodded with a wry smile before turning her attention to the dresses. You let your eyes trail the length of her; the long a-line skirt and perfectly tailored blouse, the pointed toe heels and long, bouncy blonde hair. You couldn’t deny how chic she looked. She always looked chic. 

Bitch.

You shook the thought away and looked down at your notebook. 

“So you’re here for your magazine?” she asked. 

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes, instead looking back up at her and clearing your throat. “Yep.”

“Mm. Well I’m sure you’ll give the exhibition a glowing review. You seem very good at painting things in a favourable light.” 

You smiled. “Ben already told me you didn’t like the feature I wrote about him.” 

“Oh he did?” She nodded, peering through the glass at one of the dresses as she spoke. “I wouldn’t say I didn’t like it. It just came across a bit… disingenuous.” 

“Disingenuous. Sort of like… PR relationships…” 

You noticed the muscles in her neck flex, but she remained calm, returning her gaze to you. “Sort of like that, yeah.” 

You closed your notebook and hugged it to your chest before moving towards the next exhibit. 

“Is that a Jaeger-LeCoultre?” Faye asked as you stepped around her. 

You spun on your heels to look at her, a blank expression on your face.

“The watch,” she said. 

“Oh.” You glanced down at your wrist, then back to her. “Yeah, it is.” 

She allowed a slight smile, letting out a short, contemptuous hum. “Expensive.” 

You feigned a clueless expression, doe-eyed and innocent as you shrugged at her. “Is it? I wouldn’t know, it was a gift.” 

“How thoughtful of him,” she replied bluntly, emotionlessly. 

“I never said who it was from…”

“Well,” she laughed. “I doubt anyone else you know could afford something like that.” 

You found yourself holding back again, biting the inside of your bottom lip until it tasted of iron. “Enjoy the exhibition,” you said, feigning kindness as you gestured around you. “I’m sure this theme’s right up your street. We both know how much you love embellishments.” 

You walked away without waiting for a response, blowing out a puff of hot breath and fanning yourself with your book until you reached the next display. On a small platform stood a row of mannequins, each one draped in a stunning jewelled sari. You squinted to read the placard beside them; the history, the significance, the craftsmanship that went into them. 

But you were soon disturbed again, letting out a huff before turning to Faye again. 

“Are you following me?” you asked, a teasing glint in your eye.

“I don’t know what you think you know about my marriage,” she began, speaking quietly, her tone curt. “But when he inevitably gets bored of messing around with you, I hope you have enough integrity to keep it to yourself.” 

“I have no intention of ever exposing you, Faye.” You shook your head. “But I’ll be sure to let Ben know you think our relationship is doomed to fail.” 

“Relationship,” she giggled.

You narrowed your eyes at her. 

“Is that what you’re calling it? A relationship?” she scoffed. 

“What else would it be?”

“You’re the fun, Quinn. The wild oats he sews before he decides he’s ready to settle down.” She gestured to your watch. “You’re the one he spoils, keeps sweet, flies out to whatever country he’s in because he feels like a quick fuck.” 

Her voice was so quiet, so soft, but the words were bitter and torturous. It made the back of your neck tingle, your ears burn, stomach twist.

“And I don’t blame you,” she shrugged. “He’s a celebrity. Who’s going to turn down the opportunity to have a fling with a handsome, charming actor? But what happens when that novelty wears off? When you realise how… wrong for him you are?” 

People were passing back and forth around the exhibition, buzzing with conversation, brushing shoulders, gathering at displays and moving on to the next. But the place might as well have been silent, bare, just the two of you in an empty room. 

You gave a clipped laugh, though no smile accompanied it. “How on earth would you know if I’m right or wrong for him? You don’t know me.“

“No but I know him,” she countered assuredly. “I know that he wants children, and he wants them soon. That’s one of the main reasons our marriage ended. Are you willing to give him that?” 

“Well actually, I’m three months pregnant right now, we’re very excited,” you replied dryly.

She narrowed her eyes. “No you’re not.” 

“Of course I’m fucking not,” you said quietly, rolling your eyes.

“And when he wants you to be, what then? When he comes to you a year from now and says ‘Quinn, I really want to be a father, and I’m not getting any younger’. Is that going to fill you with excitement, or dread?” 

You kept your face expressionless, but your heart was beginning to race, her words travelling right to the place where they stung the most. 

“He wants to live equally between here and America, did he tell you that?” she continued. “Are you willing to pack up your whole life and follow him back and forth? Give up your career? Live in houses you have no equity in? Drive around in a nice car you didn’t pay for?” 

She straightened her posture, chin raised with indignation. “Quinn the kept woman,” she taunted. “The trophy wife that the media never actually cares to learn the name of because she’s unimportant, insignificant when compared to him.”

You swallowed past a lump in your throat, though you couldn’t tell if it was made of sadness or pure rage. But still, you found a way to compose yourself, checking over your shoulders before stepping closer to her. 

“I know it must hurt,” you eventually said. “To be in love with someone who doesn’t love you back. To be married to him, to convince yourself that ‘maybe with time he’ll see we’re meant to be’.” You lowered your voice, leaning in to speak slowly. “Yet still, after two years, the only time he’d willingly touch you was when there was a camera there to catch it.” 

Her face hardened, her eyes never leaving yours. 

“And I don’t blame you either, Faye. If I were you, I’d want to hurt the woman he actually loves too.” 

She forced a smile, blinking away what seemed to be tears forming in her waterline. “I’m not trying to hurt you. I’m warning you.” 

She turned away, beginning to walk off before stopping and looking back at you. 

“I may not have liked what you wrote in that feature,” she said. “But the way you wrote it wasn’t half bad. I just think it’d be a shame, for someone with so much potential to end up known only as the one that came after me.” 

You held her gaze until she finally turned around, disappearing into the crowd with a flick of her hair. 

You stood there for a moment, frozen, staring down at the spot where Faye had stood. The buzz of the exhibition faded back in, a cacophony of excited voices, camera shutters and footsteps. But it was still muffled, like there was a bubble around you, separating you from the rest of the world. Faye’s words echoed in your mind, breaking through the armour you’d built around yourself and burrowing down to the quietest corners of your soul, the places you didn’t like to visit. 

Quinn the kept woman. The one that came after me.

You wondered if she was right, if you could ever be satisfied living a life that always had to bend to the shape of Ben’s. He had never denied the pitfalls of his fame, never sugar coated the demand of his work or hidden his desire for a family, for children. Were you really holding him back from finding someone to share all of that with?

You took a shaky breath, closing your eyes to soothe the itch behind your lids, and with trembling hands, you opened your notebook and forced yourself to carry on to the next display. A collection of gowns embroidered with floral motifs, their petals moulded from delicate beads and sequins that seemed to bloom beneath the soft light. You traced the edges of one with your eyes, jotting down notes with uneven, messy handwriting.

Your watch caught the light again, the gold surface glinting like a mocking wink. You almost wanted to take it off, but instead you fiddled with it for a moment, recentering the face in the middle of your wrist.

By the time you finished your tour of the exhibition, your notebook was full, but you could barely remember anything you’d written in it. You slipped it into your bag, hoisting it over your shoulder as you walked toward the exit and out into the late evening air. 

The sun was still shining, but there was a bite to the breeze that made you shudder. You pulled a cardigan from your bag and shrugged it on before taking off down the street towards your car. You pulled your phone from your trouser pocket, looking up Ben’s name, thumb hovering over the call button as you walked. But you never pressed it, unsure what you would even say, where you would start.

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[chaosduckies]

Silence In The City (2)

Don’t really know how to feel about this one but oh well the brainrot wanted it. This one is a little heartwarming though! (To me). So uhhh just enjoy another part of the kaiju stories :D

CW: Anxiety

Word Count: 4.4k

2- Devon

When I woke up this morning there were several people effortlessly getting me to my feet. I groaned, unaware of what was happening. Several people were talking as they shoved my forward but my legs didn’t want to move. They kept yelling commands at me as I groggily rubbed my eyes open. “Wha-” I barely choked the words out before being thrown onto an oddly familiar, hard metal floor. My arms were a little shaky trying to keep my body up. My vision was a little blurry, but as I looked around I could tell I was in an extremely dim room. I took deep breaths to calm down. To stop myself from overthinking. Where was I? I thought I was going home today. What was going on? Were they going to kill me? I bit the bottom of my lip, forcing my head up to take in my surroundings. There were huge metal walls, a mirror high above, something black moving… Wait…

My eyes widened once the black, scaly and spiky looking wall in front of me moved along the metal floor. I sucked in a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart. This place made everything worse. My eyes felt red and puffy after crying myself to sleep last night, and not to mention how I spend almost every waking moment here anxious and scared. After the experience with Kieran I thought I would be able to go home… apparently not. After all, I was in the same room as him right now. I think. My hands turned into fist as what seemed like their tail lifted up, revealing tired eyes. I jumped, staring. It was Kieran all right. The same purple eyes as yesterday. 

Kieran rolled his eyes, huffing through his nose and moving his tail over me. I placed my hands over my head, a little scared that he was going to crush me. I also had just woken up so my mind was everywhere but thinking about the way he treated me yesterday. Nice and some-what calmly and not the monster that they said he was. After a few seconds, when I realized that I wasn’t dead, I turned my head to see that their tail was surrounding me. Why? He didn’t really seem like he even wanted to be around anyone. Heck, I didn’t even know what time it was. Just early in the morning. 

He stole a glance over at me, holding a silent staring contest. I sucked in a deep breath, rubbing my eyes and yawning. He blinked, doing the same but covering up his mouth. I stared down at the ground. I think I had an idea of why they would cover up their mouth but I wasn’t going to say anything. Even though I was still half asleep I’m sure I would pass out. I’m surprised I haven’t yet. Kieran glared at the mirror, making himself smaller and struggling with how small the room was for him. The horns on his head hitting the roof every now and then. He grumbled everytime, just burying his head into his knees. Was it really that hard just to raise the ceiling a little? It seemed annoying to him. How does he even stand up? I feel like it would cramp up my legs if I was forced to sit down all day. I doubt he could even stretch them out.

I started to lay down before there was a red light blaring above. Kieran turned to me, “You need to get up.” He whispered. His voice still hurt my ears but not nearly as much before. I forced myself back up, even standing on my feet. I was scared of not doing what he tells me to. Especially after thinking of how many times I could’ve died yesterday. Too many. Would today be like yesterday? Why was I here? I yawned again, rubbing my eyes. 

Kieran studied me for a while before looking up at the ceiling, ignoring the flashing red lights. Eventually they went away but I had no idea what they were for. Was something about to happen? It was already hard enough to keep myself from having another anxiety attack. I didn’t have my pills either. I took a few seconds to just focus on something and clear my mind. That usually helps. I hadn’t realized Kieran looking at me confused before I turned back around, a little more calm. I played with my hands before one of the walls started opening, revealing an outside space that was still surrounded by walls that seemed to go on for forever. The sun shone brightly above, even though it was still morning. The place it shone on relished in the light with the many trees and overgrown weeds and bushes. It actually looked kind of beautiful in a way. I guess that answers my question of how he hasn’t just given up on life yet. Though this place kind of looks familiar. I knew this base I was in was by the ocean of course, but where? I shook my head, watching as Kieran crawled onto his hands and knees still somehow managing to bang the back of his head hard against the roof. He winced, groaning out frustration. If I were being honest it was a terrifying sight, chills ran down my spine, but there was no way he’d hurt me, right? 

“Let him die and you’ll regret it.” There was a voice over a speaker that made the spikes on Kierans back flare up. Like he felt threatened. He was right to think that, even her voice made me terrified. Though that wasn’t hard to do. Kieran rolled his eyes, but I could tell that he was fine with letting me come along. He nudged his head outside, as if telling me to follow. I jumped, jogging and slowing down when I ran past one of his hands. This was going to be a lot of work for me. It was too early in the morning to be out exercising. I winced when I rolled my ankle, nearly tripping. I really was a sad excuse for a human. I caught myself, letting out a sigh of relief when I didn’t fall. Kieran tilted his head when I stopped, apparently not seeing how I almost tripped. To be honest I couldn’t be more grateful that he didn’t see. He seemed like the teasing type. Even if he was more alone and annoyed than anything. 

I paused when Kieran started moving, lowering his head and squinting his eyes down at me. He let out a huff from his nose, “This is the last time I’m helping you.” I jumped, shutting my eyes closed and hearing some shuffling before everything seemed to stop. When I looked back, I saw his hand laid flat onto the ground, still huge and looked hard to even climb on to. I looked back up at him, his eyes reading ‘hurry up’. I hesitantly ran over to his hand, struggling to climb on. It was hard and it made me feel uneasy at just how huge he was compared to me. He seemed to grow impatient this way too, but I forced myself up, the muscles in my arms tired. As soon as I was on I rolled onto my back, sighing and looking up, only seeing the ceiling far above me. 

This all felt so strange. This wasn’t my first time in his hand and yet, it felt so different. Instead of trying to keep me in a fist he just kept his palm up, fingers a little curled as if creating a border. My heart was racing. What was I thinking? The one time I’m not thinking and this is what happens. I’m completely at his mercy. He could drop me and not even know. Forget that I’m there. I heard my own heartbeat beat through my ears, my vision growing a little stretched out. I sighed, sitting up and taking long and deep slow breaths. They didn’t give me the chance to grab my pills… or even take them beforehand. I’d have to go through the day without any help.

Kieran tilted his head in confusion, not giving a warning before bringing his hand up, giving a small glance to make sure I was okay before crawling through the door. It was weird. I was high up, but I know he wasn’t standing up. Was it for me? There was no way. He seemed a little annoyed already that he had to help me again after saying he wouldn’t do so anymore yesterday. I still have no idea what that meant.

It would be crazy to say that I wasn’t terrified. Who wouldn’t be in this situation? Going to an unknown abandoned part of a city, only having a half-human half-kaiju looking out for you that had very hard emotions to read. Seriously, I couldn’t tell if he was happy that I was forced to be in here or just annoyed. My fate had seemed to be between his palm or a deadly fall. Not sure which I trusted more. Even though Kieran seemed to prove that he really wasn’t harmful at all. At least to me. 

Kieran brought us both to an empty space that looked like he stayed here often with how everything was moved around for his convenience. We both turned to each other, as if he was trying to figure out what to do with me. My anxiousness couldn’t take it as I gripped the hem of my shirt and fidgeted with my shaky hands. What was he going to be doing with me? I hated how he waited so long before lowering his hand to the ground, slightly tilting it so it was easier to slide down. I stumbled off with a yelp before eating a mouthful of thankfully soft grass that broke my fall. I groaned slightly, hearing Kieran very softly laugh above me before apologizing, “Sorry.” It was unsettling that he could see me. Not even mention hear me. Like I wouldn’t be able to escape even if I could. He’d easily found me. Or… maybe that’s how he noticed me in danger? Besides seeing the Kaiju that was running through the streets, how would he have known I was trapped and needed help? I guess having good sight and hearing was a good thing. The pros outweigh the cons apparently. 

He moved, the ground shaking slightly as he did and laid down in the clearing he had made for himself, a pair of arms being used as a headrest and the other two tucked away underneath his stomach. The sun was barely going to start rising, meaning it wasn’t even six in the morning yet. I rubbed my eyes, yawning before sitting up, cleaning the dirt off of my clothes. What was the purpose of me even being here? Should I ask Kieran? Would he know? He does word things a little weird. Like he’s not going to help me anymore? When would he have to after this? My parents would probably want to move away from the coast like they always have. I think the only reason we stayed was because I absolutely loved the beach. So was it my fault we were in this mess in the first place? I shook my head, trying to take my mind off of it. I can just ask my parents when I get home, right? 

When I looked back up to Kieran, his eyes were closed, his breathing slow. Should I ask  him now? While he’s not in such an anguished mood? Was it a bad idea? Would he do something if I bothered him? Would he try to scare me off again? A million thoughts raced through my head. It was hard to choose between which one, or the many outcomes. He might not even wake up! Should I raise my voice a little? Could I even manage that? It didn’t seem very likely if I were being honest. 

“...Will I be g-g-going back home?” I nearly choked on my words, unhopeful of an answer. I was too quiet. Kieran had to be asleep- his head lifted up almost immediately. I couldn’t tell if he was shocked or just trying to catch my own reaction. He sighed, letting out a huff of air from his nose, ruffling my hair. “No. Probably not.” I didn’t know if it was just me, but I couldn’t help but catch the sad hint in his voice. The words hit me twice as hard then. I… Wouldn’t be going back home? Why? I thought they said I would be! I heard my heartbeat ring through my ears, my breathing seeming to slow down. I couldn’t cry here! It would be pathetic! Were the scientists watching? 

“L-look,” He stuttered, “I didn’t mean to say it so harshly, but they’re probably not going to let you go back after doing what they asked you to. That’s why I tried to scare you off yesterday but… you’re very hard to be annoyed and mad at.” For once, I could read his emotions clearly. He was sad. Worried. Almost like it was directed for me. My lips quivered. So if I had run from him yesterday I would’ve been gone? Back home? Why did I have to be so stubborn? Why did I always make the wrong decision? I wanted so badly to run but I didn’t. I wiped away the incoming tears. He really wasn’t trying to be mean. He was just trying to save me. To send me back home. So why did he react that way? Why was it so hard to get mad at me? It seemed to be the complete opposite with other people. 

“I-I’m sorry.” Maybe he didn’t want to be around me anyways. Was that an unspoken reason? I shouldn’t have even been outside that day. I should’ve just forced my way into the underground bunkers like my parents had done. Kieran shouldn’t have had to save me in the first place. Then I would’ve been fine and probably still living out my depressing life. 

Another huff of air hit me, “I don’t know why you’re apologizing. It was my fault why you’re stuck here anyways,” He winced, propping his head up with one of his hands, “I should be the one sorry, and I am.” This was probably the most he’s ever talked to me. A little loud for my ears even though he was whispering, but there was nothing I could do about that. I stayed silent for a while. What else was there to do? I was here for Kieran! Heck, I didn’t even know why they brought me here. But another question popped into my mind.

“Why d-did you s-save me then?” I fidgeted with my hands. That kept the both of us quiet for a while. Neither of us knew what to say. Like even Kieran didn’t know why he saved me. I mean I’m extremely grateful that he did but if he knew that this would happen then why do it in the first place? 

“You needed help. I saw you. And, well, I didn’t want you to die. So I just helped you out.” Kieran stared, his full attention on the next words that leave my mouth. What was I supposed to say? It was nice of him to help just because I was in danger but why did he emphasize that he didn’t want me to die? Were they telling him otherwise? I wouldn’t be shocked if that were the case. They didn’t seem to have any regard for anyone. What was one death going to do anyways when you could save millions of other people? I guess a lot of people thought the same way. 

“Th-thank you.” I turned and looked away. I already said thank you, but it was all I could think of to say. Kieran rolled his eyes, though I could see the slight smile on his face,“Now it’s my turn,” His voice was a lot softer as he moved closer to me, though I instinctively moved a little bit away. He didn’t show any reaction to it, but I could tell he was going to say something. 

“Why are you still here if you’re scared?” He pointed a finger out into the city, the sun rising above it finally. I flinched ever so slightly, but of course that caught his attention and made him frown just a tiny bit. 

“U-um, it’s uh-” I didn’t actually have a reason for staying. Because I didn’t want to be alone? Because it was the right thing to do? It was a hard question to answer. I knew it was easy to see that I was afraid, but if I were being honest I’d rather take my chances with Kieran than going off somewhere else. Plus, I was still confused why the scientists said something about me dying. What did it mean? Was there something else in here? I was tempted to ask Kieran but it was their turn for questions, and I couldn’t even answer one. 

“I just feel safer here. Even though you’re huge.” I move my hands out apart to explain my point, trying to calm my racing heart. Did I answer it right? Was that what he wanted to hear? Kieran stared with curious eyes, only to let out a playful huff through his nose, full on laughing. I had to cover my ears to make sure my eardrums wouldn’t bust, but I laughed lightly with him too. I admit it was funny, but to Kieran it might be for a different reason. 

“Ah, sorry that was loud,” He apologized, quieting his voice to a whisper that was still a little loud for me, “You feel safer with someone you’re scared of? You’re just strange. But in a good way I guess.” A good way? What did that mean? Was there even a good version of being strange? In my book there wasn’t if people say you’re weird then you’re weird. That’s just how it worked. But I guess in a way Kieran knew things others didn’t. Obviously things I didn’t either. 

Kieran sighed, seemingly focused on something that wasn’t here. I lowered my hands back from my ears and began playing with them. What should I do? I was terrified of going off on my own, but I also didn’t just want to stay there doing nothing. Then again, did I really have a choice? Ever since I’ve been here I haven’t been able to do what I’ve wanted to. I didn’t have time to grab my pills, I haven’t eaten in over a day, pretty much everything hurt, I’ve had several breakdowns and it hasn’t even been a full day here. I’d say things were going pretty bad. 

“You know you don’t have to stay here. Just watch out for the small kaiju. They have them out.” Kieran explained. My eyes widened, my heart slightly beating faster. I could even hear it ring in my ears. Small kaiju? Like the ones that are as big as a large dog? I don’t even think I could handle those if I were being honest. I’ve never had to fight back against any kind of kaiju. Heck, I’m pretty sure I’d just pass out. It would be pathetic to say that to Kieran though. Even though he probably already thinks that about me. No surprise there really. 

I stayed silent, even moving the slightest bit closer to Kieran despite my heart beating rapidly. He stared for a long while before sighing through his nose, ruffling my hair a bit, “Whatever  you want.” He shrugged his shoulders, turning back towards whatever was going on. It was still early in the morning, and honestly I was tired and hungry but my anxiousness kept me distracted. There were kaiju in here that could kill me. Was that why they had said I could die? I thought they had just meant that Kieran would be the one to kill me, but apparently it was the complete opposite. He was the one protecting me. 

I jumped when I heard something distant, like something falling and crashing. The Kaiju? Were they coming here? My heart rang faster through my ears as I turned around. There was nothing there, but there was no that whatever fell did on its own. “U-um, is that them?” I wasn’t sure he heard me, but he just sighed, “Annoying….” My eyes widened? Was I annoying? Should I stop talking? What was he going to do? Was I in trouble? I mean of course I was in trouble but that didn’t help figure out what he was going to do! I knew I was annoying but did it have to be now to say it? Right when I was already anxious? 

Kieran held his head up with one of his hands, the other moving right in front of me, like he was waiting for something. I looked around, seeing that his arm was covering my last escape route. To go along with that, there was a not so small Kaiju rounding the corner. Okay, maybe small for Kieran but for me? It was twice the size of a bear, looked kind of like a really scaly dog. What really caught me off guard was the extremely sharp fangs. I jumped when it growled and charged towards me, baring its sharp teeth at me. My body was too terrified to move, let alone even scream. Kieran let out a huff through his nose and just simply moved his hand towards it, making them whine exactly like a dog would. I caught the smirk on Kieran’s face looking like he was pleased with himself. 

I hadn’t realized that I was breathing fast until I felt the air in my lungs give out on me. I took a few seconds to calm down once again. This was way too hard without taking my pills for the day. Just the constant worry and stress was too much to handle while out here. Didn’t I tell them about it? So why was I forced to be here? Kieran side-eyed me, probably to make sure I was okay. I probably looked like it since he looked away almost immediately, but I most definitely was not. Was I really annoying to him? Or maybe he was talking about the kaiju? He hadn’t even done anything to that one and they ran off. Does he deal with them everyday? If they knew he didn’t like them near then why even go near him? None of it made sense at all, but I couldn’t be more grateful that I wasn’t the one he threatened and instead the one he saved. Multiple times I might add even after he said that he wouldn’t anymore yesterday. 

“They’re annoying, not you. Don’t worry about it.” He explained. How did he know? Every. Single. Time. It’s like he could read how I felt or something. Like an empath. I couldn’t do that and I was freakishly good at reading people. How does he keep doing this? 

“They stay away from you?” I forced myself to stand up on shaky legs, walking over to his hand that had scared the one from earlier. Somehow it was a lot easier to talk to Kieran now. Like I was growing used to it? Should I? If I’m not going home, is that a good thing? I had no idea.I tried my best to ignore the lingering fear of being this close to Kieran, hiding behind his hand while peeking out to look for more of those kaiju. Kieran had waited a long time to answer. Like he was nervous or something. Though I was patient, taking a few shaky steps back when I heard another one. 

“Um, y-yeah,” He paused, his voice sounding a little nervous while moving his hand so I was hiding behind it again, “But you’re here so they kind of just want you.” His voice went back to being deep and short. Why did he sound nervous at first? I didn’t pay too much attention, too focused on the threat that minded its own business. Kieran sighed, “Kind of boring out here isn’t it?” My eyes widened. Was he actually starting a conversation with me? A mixture of emotions hit me. Excitement, a little bit of fear, but that didn’t stop me from replying like normal, “You mean besides the murderous dogs coming after me? Y-yeah I guess it is.” I tried to sound funny, and obviously it worked because we both started laughing, Kieran making sure to laugh quieter for me. 

It made me feel happy for once that I could make someone laugh besides my parents from time to time. I haven’t really felt this way in a while, and it's strange that I’m sharing it with someone who’s only partly human. Kieran stopped laughing and started to hold himself up, placing both arms underneath him. The silence stretched between us before my stomach growled quietly. I tried to muffle the sound so Kieran wouldn’t hear, but it was pretty much useless. He extended a hand out, “Let me guess, they didn’t feed you?” I nervously backed up, clutching my stomach and nodding my head. What did he think of me now? Just a few seconds we were having a little laugh but of course I had to ruin everything. 

“C’mon. They’ll probably give you something.” He waited for me to get onto his hand, a tired look on his face as always but there was something else that I couldn’t read. Why was he so confusing? Or maybe that wasn’t the right word.. Closed off? Maybe that was it. He didn’t make it easy to read any of his emotions at least. 

I walked over to his hand, trying to climb on but failing miserably as usual. It was just hard since I couldn’t get my leg over, but eventually I got the hang of it. I rolled over onto my back, sitting up and catching my breath. I really was small to him. I couldn’t even get onto his hand without trouble. I sighed hopelessly, clutching my stomach in case it decided to make the most embarrassing noise ever again. I just laughed softly in the end though , “What happened to not helping me again?” 

Kieran’s eyes shot open wide like he had forgotten his own promise. He huffed through his nose and rolled his eyes. For a second I thought he was actually mad at me before he laughed along, “I guess I changed my mind.” 

How could these people have treated him so horribly?  ——————

Again, don’t know how to feel about it and I think I mainly wrote this to satisfy my brainrot (I only want more now so that kind of backfired) But these two are definitely my favorite OC’s! Yes I am a still a little sick, but I’m working on editing all of the writing I did and will probably post them throughout the week!

Taglist: @da3dm @dav8530

If you would like to be added or removed please let me know!

[feroshgirlsims]

Chapter 7.1 - You Can’t Go Home

AKIRA

"Fuckin' bullshit ass dreams."

The coffee helps with Akira's tension headache, but not his biggest problem: Why the hell can't Miko be glamoured?

For all the magic that the fae had, glamour was the most powerful. It was the only space where they could lie, crafting a story or circumstance that felt so real a creature could be lost to it.

Miko wasn't fae, which was the only way she'd be able to see through it—though most fae didn't bother to peek beneath the hood of a glamour unless it was a threat. It was considered rude, like walking in on someone undressing.

And yet, if Akira was being honest with himself, when it came to solving the mystery of Miko Ojo he could give a shit. Jacques was right, he was distracted. He wasn’t supposed to be anywhere near Vladislaus, and Alice was— 

—in his side yard?

Son of a bitch. 

Akira makes his way outside, hoping to confirm that she is a figment of his imagination and not actually in his garden, leaning over a poisonous plant on the verge of getting herself killed. 

Tossing his coffee cup, he runs towards her, skidding to a halt a few feet away. "Uh, hey," he calls out, keeping his voice deceptively casual and trying desperately not to envision her with the tongue of the plant wrapped around her arm, pumping poison into her system. "You might wanna watch yourself. Those mosquito traps are deadly."

"Yeah," she stands and turns around, a smirk on her face. "To mosquitos."

Gods above. Amusement looks good on her. But he can't encourage this. 

"They are poisonous to you," Akira corrects, hating how suddenly anxious he sounds. He can feign disinterest with the best of the fae, but those skills abandon him now. “Can you please get the fuck away from that thing?” 

"Why?” She laughs like she can't hear his desperation. Or she can hear it, and she's trying to fuckin' torture him.

“I have salt," she holds up a hand, flipping it back and forth so he can see that one side is covered in fine crystals. "But you look pretty salt-free my dude, so maybe you should back up."

“Me back up? I’m like ten feet away! And how do you know about using salt for a mosquito trap?”

"Sixam Mosquito Traps are related to cowplants, and cowplants hate salt," she shrugs, "They talked about it on this podcast I listen to.” Instead of taking a step away from the plant, like she has a care in the world for his godsdamned blood pressure, Alice moves closer. “Anyways, appreciate the concern, but I need this shot for class, and I already waited until the last minute."

Akira bites his tongue, willing himself not to completely lose his shit. Jacques is already aware of his interest and the worst thing you could do was have the Devil know what you wanted.

And yet, he can't seem to back up. Instead he finds himself demanding to know what her plan is while he glares so hard his headache returns.

"Just watch." Alice pulls out her camera and drops into a crouch. Gingerly, she holds out her hand. The tongue of the mosquito trap flicks out, speeding toward her. At the very last minute, she flips her hand over, snapping a picture before the tongue recoils and twists back into the plant. 

It's a masterful move. Akira has aged a thousand years just from watching it.

"Look!" she cries, finally leaving the plant alone so she can hold out her camera and show him the image in the viewfinder. "Got the shot. Tell me that was not completely badass!"

It's a good picture. Begrudgingly, Akira admits it. "What podcast did you hear all these plant tips on?"

"The 7 Wild Dates Recap show. They were in Selvadorada for an elimination challenge. Honestly, I wasn't even sure it would work."

She wasn’t even sure if it would work!?!?!??!?!

He can't do this.

Alice is certifiable.

She's the heroine in a novel who wanders into the dark forest even though everyone said: "don't go in the fucking forest."

If he pursues this, he will end up in a constant state of worry that she'll endure some bodily harm because mortals have laughably brittle bones. Keeping her alive in his world would be a nightmare.

And yet, when he opens his mouth, what comes out is: "Tell me you do not watch that dumbass show."

"I do," she cackles, "And you should too. Stick with me, kid, and you'll be drowning in scripted confessions from the most beautiful, selfish sims on the planet. I'm Alice, by the way."

She is smiling expectantly, but he knows his rules. He has them for a reason.

No real names.

"I'm Akira."

No unnecessary details.

"I'm also into plants. You're kind of standing near my garden."

And for the love of the gods, no fucking promises.

"And if this show is as good as you say, then I'll have to watch it."

PREV | NEXT

(Part 1 of 4)

If you prefer long-form, you can read the full chapter on my WordPress.

[frankmillerturnonyourlocation]

counselor cancelled day-of on me again. sad! well there's other coping mechanisms

[sttoru]

ahh i just cant stop thinking of sukuna's fav concubine getting injured from the other concubines but she hides it because shes scared of being weak (in sukuna's eyes) and/or a burden ☹️☹️

 𝝑𝑒 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒. true form!sukuna x concubine!female reader. fluff, sprinkle of angst n comfort. size difference. reader gets called ‘brat, woman, little one’ — ig this is a bit early in their relationship

“i’ve arrived, my lord,” you announce your presence once you step into sukuna’s quarters. the dimly lit room removed all the stress you currently had in your system—the knowledge that you’re safe in his space causes your shoulders to drop.

sukuna turns his head to look at you while he’s laid back on his bed, topless. all four of his eyes roam over your body, which isn’t anything unusual for you. he always does that.

“tch. took ya long enough,” the king of curses scoffs before gesturing for you to come closer, making that familiar motion with his fingers, “when i order y’ to come, you’re supposed to drop everything and rush to be at my service, woman.”

you hurry over to his side of the bed with a nod. “my apologies,” you mutter. you can’t tell him why you’re late, because hell would break loose within these walls. and also because you’re scared of what his reaction would be.

before being called over, you were in the kitchen, peacefully trying to get a snack, when two other concubines entered the room. you tried ignoring them, but that didn’t seem to be the smartest move. it wasn’t long before they threw derogatory remarks at you.

of course, you stood up for yourself and yelled some back. that’s when one of them pushed you backwards, causing the skin near your hand to get slightly burned by the fire on the stove.

if it weren’t for the maids around that went to report the ruckus to uraume, god knows what more would have went down in that kitchen.

“oi,” sukuna grabs your jaw and lifts your head up. he can immediately notice the vacant look in your eyes, which is unusual for you. you snap out of your trance and set the nasty memories aside—ignoring the impulse to scratch the injury on your wrist.

“i’m sorry, my lord,” you say again before slowly undoing your obi. you figure that is why sukuna had called you over, to do your job as his concubine. you halt your movements when you realise that undressing meant that he’s going to see the wound on your skin.

you hesitate. that same instant of hesitation doesn’t go unnoticed by the king of curses. a large hand of his moves to stop both of your wrists from pulling off your robes.

“. . .i’m giving y’ three seconds of my time,” sukuna narrows his eyes after allowing you to speak up and tell him what’s on your mind. he hears you whimper in pain when he holds onto your wrist, your facial expression clearly uncomfortable. “spit it out,” he impatiently huffs. he wants to hear you say what’s wrong.

you desperately shake your head, biting your bottom lip. you don’t want to tell him—even though you know you’re obligated to.

denying an answer to sukuna was your next big mistake.

“fuckin’ brat,” the pink-haired man grunts. he yanks your arms up to his face, harshly pulling down the sleeves of your kimono. all four of his red eyes immediately fall onto the wound on your wrist. you obviously hadn’t treat it yet, even though you should have done so long ago.

there’s tension hanging in the air almost instantly after your little secret gets revealed. sukuna’s grip on your hands tightens which causes you to flinch. you close your eyes and expect the worst. you can already hear the insults he’ll throw at you—how he’ll call you useless, weak, stupid and all that.

“look up at me,” his voice rings out in a firm tone. you don’t want to anger him more than he already is, so you obey. you open your eyes and glance upwards, your worried gaze meeting his.

sukuna takes a deep breath to contain the bubbling rage inside of him; a rare sight indeed. he doesn’t want to unnecessarily lash out at you when it isn’t needed. however, he can’t deny that itching urge in his chest, to get mad at whoever caused your skin to get tainted like that.

sukuna stares at you with an intimidating glare. when you expect him to yell profanities at you, the unexpected happens.

“who did this to you?” he asks, voice strained like he’s trying to hold himself back.

you blink a few times. the king of curses sounds pissed off, and when he’s in that kind of mood, you know he’s not to be played with. you look the other way and try to think of a proper answer.

will you snitch and cause unnecessary bloodbath, or will you spare the lives of the concubines who hurt you and lie?

you’re scared of being seen as useless by sukuna if you tell him the truth. if you lie, he’ll probably call you weak and stupid as well. it’s a lose-lose situation, you conclude.

you swallow the spit that has gathered in your mouth before parting your lips.

“m-miko,” her name echoes in his ears. you decide to be honest, because you know that there’s no fooling the ryomen sukuna. a second of silence follows and when you look up at him, he stares back at you with furrowed brows.

“ah,” you then realise that he doesn’t know his concubines by name. he has way too many women at his disposal and doesn’t find them worthy enough to remember.

however you have heard from uraume and the others that he does know your name—only yours. it makes you feel special.

you try to describe the concubine you’ve tussled with, “s-short blonde hair, uhm, mole under her right eye.. brown colored eyes—“

sukuna thinks for a moment before clicking his tongue once he faintly remembers who that’s supposed to be. without a word, he stands up and wraps one muscular arm around your waist, sweeping you off your feet and carrying you under his armpit like some package.

“uraume!”

his voice is loud enough to make the walls shake and it carries a clear hint of pure rage. everyone in the estate should have heard him by now, which means that they know what is going down in a couple seconds.

sukuna sounding this angry only means one thing; someone is going to die today.

the servants hurriedly scurry around, deeply bowing as he walks past them in the hallway with you still tucked underneath his arms. you let yourself be carried while your heart beats uncontrollably fast in your chest.

you feel your hands shake a bit. seeing someone like sukuna be this mad for your sake—to the point that he’s ready to turn the entire area upside down—is somehow thrilling. though, you can’t help but feel sick because of your own thoughts.

someone is going to die and there you are, cheesing about the king of curses.

you see the white-haired chef appear from a corner, their steps hurried. they glance at you and then back at their master. it’s like they immediately connect the dots.

“treat her in my quarters. don’t let her leave until i come back,” sukuna commands without even looking at uraume. he’s staring ahead, with an ominous aura emitting from his body, one that somebody can sense from miles away.

he puts you down next to uraume before glancing your way one last time. he lets out a deep sigh as he sees the worried expression you’re making. he lowers his head to your level so you’d be face to face.

“and you,” his warm breath hits your cheeks and sends a shiver down your spine. you gulp as sukuna’s hand reaches up to firmly tug at your earlobe, “i’ll deal with your ass later, yeah? i’ll make you feel what it means to hide stuff from me, little one.”

that sentence makes you even more nervous. you know you won’t be able to avoid the punishment sukuna has in mind, so you simply nod. “understood,” you reply in a squeaky voice. you don’t have the guts to disobey him—he’s already out to kill someone and you don’t want to be the next victim.

sukuna straightens his back again and continues his journey towards the concubines’ quarters. every heavy step makes the floors and walls shake, a sign of his unstoppable rage that’s about to be unleashed.

you feel slightly puzzled. you didn’t expect this outcome when you revealed your injury to the ruthless man. you expected to be belittled and mocked for not being able to prevent a wound from being inflicted on your body.

instead, there he goes, off to get revenge in your stead. you feel a twisted sense of satisfaction after seeing sukuna be this protective over you. actions like these demonstrate more than his dull words can do, even if it may seem like he doesn’t care about what could happen to a human like you.

[chuluoyi]

𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐄𝐗𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄

- sylus x reader

you and your lover are hailed and feared, but who would have guessed that behind closed doors, both of you are just that — lovers?

genre/warnings: very suggestive, making out, fluff, comfort, period cramps, assassin!reader (not l&ds mc), loosely based on sylus' secret times: midnight warmth & exclusive care!

note: very self-indulgent bye pls don't look at me :') this fic is a companion to assassin!reader series (strictly (un)professional and jealousy incarnate)

“Who’s ther— lord! Missus! What happened to you!?”

On a rainy night, you staggered into the base, drenched and covered with dirt. Your steps were unsteady as you made your way through the front door, and the first person to see you, Luke, was so shocked by the sight that he rushed to your side.

“Kieran! Call Boss!” he shouted to his twin, who immediately sprinted off to find him, steadying you. “Are you injured?”

“No,” you hissed, wincing as you clutched your abdomen. “Let go, I’m fine—” But before you could finish, you missed a step and—

—fell into Luke's arms.

In that very instant, Luke genuinely feared for his life. He squeaked and stammered, incoherent sounds escaping him, because oh lord— if Boss sees me ever touching his woman—

“What are you doing?”

And there came his nightmare. Sylus’ deep voice cut through like a blade, marking the arrival of doomsday itself.

“B-Boss! It isn’t what it looks like!” Luke quivered, desperately trying to explain himself.

However, Sylus paid him no mind and exhaled sharply, immediately moving over to pull you out of Luke’s grasp. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine!” you insisted, pulling away from him while staggering. “I’m not wounded or anything. Just... I just need a bath, please.”

Sylus eyed you from top to bottom. You had just been out for a reconnaissance, and yet you looked as though you had been through a tornado and back. Disheveled, your dress was smeared with mud and dirt, and even grime clung to your hair.

“Did you fall into a sewer or something?” he questioned, and he knew he had hit a nerve when you shot him a glare.

But you spared him no answer, walking away with labored breaths and a hand pressed against your lower belly. It was clear you were in pain, and the sight tugged at him as he followed you.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his concern growing. “What hurts?”

“You don’t have to fuss over me—” your breath hitched, feeling exhausted, and ashamed all at once. “Just my period, nothing much,” you murmured in a quieter voice so the twins wouldn’t hear.

As you reached the stairs to the second floor, you felt like collapsing. Did you really have to climb these stairs, too?

As if reading your mind, Sylus let out a sigh, but you nearly squealed when he lifted you into his arms.

“You’ll get dirty!” you rebuked, even as he took large strides up the stairs. “Sylus!”

“Just hold onto me.” He shot you a pointed look. “You can’t even walk without gasping for air, and you still want to climb the stairs? You’ll end up rolling and breaking your back.”

Despite your protests, your lover immediately brought you to his bathroom and sat you down on the sink. He turned the hot water on and then faced you.

“So? What did you get yourself into?” he asked, his red eyes narrowing in dissatisfaction. “You were fine, and you didn’t face anyone.”

You pressed your eyes shut, leaning against the wall, resigned to explain. “Fell into mud. Totally idiotic, I know, but my cramps started right before, so…”

“I don’t recall you experiencing this before. What brought this on?”

You met his gaze indignantly, retorting, “Well, a certain someone banged me so hard last night, and I got my period right after.”

It was quite unexpected, but still answered his concern. So, to that, Sylus snorted and tousled your hair, a playful twinkle in his eyes. “Ah, sorry, I guess?”

You pursed your lips, aware of how unapologetic he was. He smirked and added, “Now that I’m dirty too... I suppose we’ll have to take a bath together.”

“Are you mad? Do you want to get covered in my blood?”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “Why not—”

“No,” you retorted firmly, clearly irked. “You take the bath after me, and that’s final.”

. . .

“Put your arm around my neck,” Sylus commanded when you both emerged from the bath and already dressed in silk bathrobes. You complied, and he swiftly lifted you into a princess carry, bringing you to the bed.

Despite yourself, your heart fluttered at his action. He set you down gently, and the moment your back met the soft surface, you relished it and let out an involuntary moan. “Ahh...”

Your voice was soft and sultry, though tinged with a hint of pain. Sylus placed his hand gently on your face. “Your cheeks are warm,” he noted. “And you still look pale.”

"Mmm," you mumbled, suddenly the total fatigue catching up to you as you leaned into his touch. Seeing you so pliant like this seemed to flip a switch inside him, and he immediately settled next to you and placed his huge hand on your lower belly, pressing down on it.

“What are you doing?” you frowned.

“I’m giving you a massage,” he replied. “Stop squirming. I’m trying to pamper you here.”

“You don’t have to…”

“My woman is in enough pain that she doesn’t talk back to me. It’s feels off.”

“...actually, you suck. You’re too rough.”

Taking your whine into account, he adjusted his touch, softening his pressure. "How is it? Better?"

You didn’t immediately reply, indulging in the warm sensation, letting out a sigh as you squeezed your eyes shut. “Mm... Yeah, it feels good now. Don’t stop…”

There was something quietly erotic about watching you, usually so defiant, surrender to his touch like this. Sylus felt a deep, protective satisfaction as he continued his gentle ministrations—

But after a while...

Before he could stop himself, he leaned in, pulling you closer as he buried his face in your shoulder, inhaling deeply, savoring the scent of the bath foam you had just shared. “Mmm…”

You were caught off-guard and shivered at his breath tickling your skin, eyes fluttering open. “Sylus…” you murmured, a mix of protest and surprise in your voice.

But he didn’t pull away, his lips lingering against your skin, his gaze fixed on your bare neck, whispering, “Just relax. I’ve got you.”

Then, when he suddenly nibbled on your neck, you jolted awake. The gentle bite on your sensitive skin sent another shiver down your spine, stirring a mix of warmth that made your pulse race.

But he didn't stop there, as Sylus trailed your neck with a series of kisses and wet sucks, his breath hot against your skin. Soon, the only sounds filling the room were his quiet sighs and the soft noises of his lips as he continued to bite and pepper kisses on your skin, over and over.

“Ngh…” Each touch left you almost breathless, and the heat between you growing with every passing moment, making your toes curl and you moan softly by his ear.

“Hold me,” he gruffly whispered, and as if bewitched, you clung to his shoulders. He let out a husky chuckle. “Not too hard, or you won't be able to sleep later.”

“And whose fault would that be?” you quipped, entangling your legs with his, savoring the warmth of his body against yours.

“I’ve spoiled you rotten, haven’t I... sweetie?” he murmured amidst kisses, his tone laced with intrigue and his burgundy eyes flashing with a glint. “Just let me have my fill for a while.”

If you had a mirror, you’d see the hickeys forming on your neck, but instead of fighting him, you pulled him closer, letting out breathy moans freely and massaging his scalp as if urging him to go further.

“Naughty vixen—you are,” Sylus rasped deliciously in your ear, thick with desire and restraint as his grip on you tightened. “Tempting me, knowing full well I can’t do anything to you…”

A low giggle slipped from your lips. “Unfortunately… I learn from the best.”

Hard to get, snarky, taunting... You were the bane of his existence, and yet Sylus wouldn't have it another way. Your defiance and teasing only deepened his affection, making every challenge you presented feel like an irresistible part of what drew him to you.

He knew when his patience was on the verge of snapping, so to end it, he sucked hard on your shoulder one last time, making sure to leave another mark there. The squelching sound reverberated through both of you, before he pulled away and planted a firm kiss on your forehead, a gesture of both dominance and fondness for you.

“Now sleep,” he grounded out. “Your body has been through enough.”

“Mngh...” you whined, curling into him in contentment, your head nestled against his toned chest where you could feel his strong, steady heartbeat. “Really unfair...”

“You're going to feel better soon...” he sighed, one hand soothing your back and the other resting on your waist. “And as soon as you do...”

A wicked grin curved his lips.

“I'll pick up where I left off.”

[fingertipsmp3]

Can’t tell if I actually genuinely think this job interview tomorrow is a bad idea, or I’m just trying to convince myself it is because I don’t want to do it