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scorpieuns · 6 months ago

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GIRLS NEED LOVE | PARK SUNGHOON

summary: you can’t seem to listen when your best friend says her older brother is off limits.

word count: 3.2k

warnings (18+): smut. fluff (if you squint lmfao). swearing. alcohol. kissing. nipple play, fingering (f. receiving).

MINORS DNI!!

A/N: back again after my usual cycle of deleting and remaking accounts here (hopefully this is my last lol). edited and remade this just in case it sounds familiar!

The summer heat was relentless tonight, a thick, suffocating blanket that clung to your skin and refused to let go. You tossed and turned beneath the light sheets, frustration building with every huff of breath.

The air was humid, making it impossible to slumber. Despite having your eyes shut for what felt like an eternity, sleep remained elusive, teasing you from just beyond reach.

You’d like to think there were other reasons besides the warmth of the summer evening that had you feeling hot and bothered. The muffled hum of cicadas outside droned on, an irritating cacophony that seeped through the walls, mingling with the soft snores of your best friend beside you.

But, it wasn’t really the noise that kept you awake—it was the swirling thoughts in your mind, each one pulling you deeper into a mixtape of memories you wished would stay buried.

Your brain, ever the tormentor, delighted in replaying moments you’d rather forget. Moments that belonged in the past, locked away and never to be revisited.

You wanted to blame the events at Jake’s party on the alcohol—specifically that cursed, yet sinfully good, cherry vodka Jay made.

It was the vodka, after all, that led you to kiss your best friend’s brother in the first place.

At least, that’s what you wanted to believe. It was the alcohol…it had to be the alcohol.

It wasn’t the fact that you had a raging crush on him for months. If anything, it was his fault. Sunghoon was the one who escaped from the party to join you. Somehow letting aimless conversation fall into enamoured glances, droning about how pretty you looked that night.

He was the one who slid his hands around your waist and pulled you closer, lips ghosting over yours and pleading to kiss you.

Passionately. Feverishly. Hungrily.

Your eyes snapped open with a frustrated sigh, the darkness of the room doing little to calm the rapid thrum of your heart as you sat up. The memory of Thursday night played vividly in your mind, leaving your chest tight and your thoughts tangled.

Since that night, you hadn’t seen much of Sunghoon, his summer job at the beach keeping him occupied while you and Sooah roamed the town, searching for anything to distract yourselves from the blistering heat.

A part of you was relieved not to see him since Thursday night. You preferred the silence over the possibility of hearing him downplay what happened, blaming it on ‘party spirit’ or the alcohol.

With a sigh, you slipped out of bed, your feet softly padding across the carpeted floor as you made your way out of the room.

Maybe a midnight snack would help ease your restless mind, you thought, as you quietly descended the stairs, the faint glow from the living room spilled onto the wooden floor signalling that you weren’t the only one awake tonight.

But, preoccupied with the sole quest to sleep, you brush it aside, entering the dimly lit kitchen and making a beeline for the fridge.

When you open the fridge you close your eyes with a sigh, the feeling of the cold breeze hitting your skin making you feel a thousand times better.

“Can’t sleep?” Sunghoon’s voice tickling the shell of your ear startles you, slightly jumping with a stifled scream. “What the hell?!” You whisper yell, “don’t sneak up on people like that!” You chide, clutching your heart in an attempt to regain your composure.

Sunghoon’s smirk grows into a smile, seemingly humoured with scaring you shitless and you roll your eyes at him. It only takes a few seconds to notice how close he is to you, swallowing thickly as your eyes scanned his appearance.

Nothing but a pair of sweatpants and white socks…great, he was shirtless.

“I don’t think I will sleep anytime soon, thanks to you.” You grumbled in response to his question, awarding yourself for not sparing another glance at his naked upper half.

“Oh come on princess, it wasn’t that bad.” You roll your eyes again before returning to the fridge, trying not to mull over the nickname he had just given you.

You could feel Sunghoon’s gaze remain fixed on you, studying you intently, until he eventually turned his attention to the fridge. You felt as though he could feel the heat radiating from your skin as he moved closer— the gentle breaths escaping his lips and teasing the hairs on your neck, causing you to shiver.

You quickly emerge from the little world of the icy machine, settling with the first thing you see to avoid being with him in such closeness—which is a simple vanilla bean yoghurt.

The tension in the air feels painfully thick and awkward, and you silently mutter prayers in hopes that he leaves the minute he finds what he’s looking for— but he doesn't.

Sunghoon emerges with an energy drink, the crisp sound of the can opening cutting through the white noise. He effortlessly leans against the marble counter, taking a slow deliberate sip of the drink, Adam's apple rising and falling as he swallows. As he pulls the can away, he casually wipes his bottom lip with his thumb, gaze locking onto you again.

Your yoghurt suddenly looks really interesting, reading the indecipherable scientific words in the ingredient list and immersing yourself in the brand's origin story, all in an effort to avoid the intense presence of the guy in front of you.

“We should talk about Thursday night.” Your heart sinks in dread. Your face begins to burn and you nervously clear your throat, “talk about what?”

“You know what Y/N.” He says, stepping closer to you. Sunghoon settles the sweaty can onto the counter, surveilling your surroundings before he lowers his voice, “So you’re just gonna pretend like you don’t remember?”

You finally glance at the guy, whose brown eyes are already boring into your soul, searching for any sort of answer in your stoic expression. You swallow thickly as you revisit Thursday night’s events for the umpteenth time and it all still feels like a dream.

The way Sunghoon kissed you in a way that left you breathless, hands gripping your waist so tight as though you’d slip away any second.

You clearly remembered it as though it were yesterday, the tingling sensation of his fingertips on your skin, the scent of his cologne filling the air, the lustrous look in his eyes when he pulled away, only to have you lean in for more.

You indeed did kiss your best friend's brother.

“Sunghoon.” You sigh, "Can't we just put it behind us? We weren't in the right state of mind,"

Sunghoon shook his head with a frustrated sigh, leaving his spot beside you and positioning himself in front of you. His hands gripped the edge of the counter on either side of you, effectively trapping you and preventing your escape.

“Y/N, both of us know that isn’t true.” Sunghoon pauses and your breath gets caught in your throat when his hand meets your cheek, his cold touch sending delightful shivers down your spine.

"Are you honestly telling me that didn't hold any meaning for you?" His voice was low, almost tinged with frustration.

You finally look away, unable to keep the nerve-wracking eye contact but Sunghoon makes a sound of disapproval, his hand swiftly moving to your chin and turning you to meet his face again.

He emits a hum, eyebrows raised and anticipating a response, and your mouth opens, but you struggle to articulate any kind of excuse.

You hate just how much you dwindle under Sunghoon’s presence, hoping that he can’t hear the hammering of your heart, along with the nervous breaths that slip past your lips whenever he looks at you.

“Well it did for me.”

“I liked it.” He shrugs, leaning in, dimples denting his cheeks with a knowing smirk when he catches the way your body reacts.

“And I’d give anything to feel those lips again” He admits desperately, voice below a whisper. You can only let out a shaky breath as Sunghoon’s thumb toys with the plump flesh of your bottom lip, slowly inching closer to him and finally closing the gap between you two.

Kissing Sunghoon feels just like the first time, an electrifying sensation coursing through your body, with your heart pounding so loudly that it could reverberate off the kitchen walls. It's like a breath of fresh air, a mixture of exhilaration, longing and relief washing over you.

You sigh, hands finding his face as he kisses back, desperately leaning into the kiss as he matches your fervour, hands slipping to your waist and pulling you closer as if there were still some distance to bridge between you. Your hands wind around his neck, fingers tangling in his dark hair, pulling his face closer as the passionate kisses gradually blend into a makeout session.

The sounds of kissing fill the room, the fridge’s hums doing nothing to drown the rather lewd sounds out. Sunghoon breaks away from you, his breathing uneven. His cheeks carry a faint blush, and his hair is a cute mess.

It takes everything in you not to gravitate back to the solace of his soft and pretty lips and you’re taken aback, nearly letting out a surprised yelp when his hands swiftly reach for the back of your thighs, effortlessly lifting you up and placing you onto the chilly surface of the marble countertop.

You’re now at eye-level and without warning, he is back on your lips, hands finding themselves under the thin material of your tank top and the cold metal of his rings against your flaming skin make your arch your back reflexively.

He pulls away, teeth softly tugging your bottom lip, with a breathy groan before he moves your jawline, sloppy open mouthed kisses travelling down your neck, sucking and nipping at the delicate skin, softly whimpering and sighing as the sensation blurred any rational thought that was left in your mind.

His hand slipped past your sternum, over your flimsy tank top and under it, brushing over your hot skin and on landing your breast, giving the flesh a soft squeeze.

Sunghoon’s lips follow suit, lips gliding over your collarbone before lifting your shirt up and attaching his lips to your nipple without warning, soft moans filling the quiet room as his tongue swipes over the erect bud.

Your fingers weaved in his soft hair, tugging on it as he moved to the other, kissing, nipping and sucking, the feeling snowballing the ache between your legs.

He finally pulled away with a ‘pop’, glancing back at your clouded state, eyebrows furrowed and bottom lip between your teeth.

“You’re so, so fucking beautiful.” Sunghoon groans, gently grabbing your face, kissing you messily. His hands glide to your hips, lips moving sloppily and hungrily against yours.

His pulls you closer to his body, legs hooked around his waist and that’s when you feel it, something hard poking the inside of your inner thigh and when you pull yourself closer, it perfectly hits your aching cunt, a dizzying wave of pleasure coursing through you, your moans being swallowed by mouth— and you can tell you’re not the only one who feels this way when you hear Sunghoon’s lewd groans.

You can't help but subconsciously roll your hips against him, grabbing at his waist and looking for some kind of friction– chasing the same feeling of pleasure that you felt before. You shamelessly moan at the lovely feeling of his clothed dick hitting you in the right spot, only making you more impatient and needy.

Sunghoon’s low moans make your stomach flip, and you want to hear more of them but he stops—pulling away from your lips and gripping your waist so tightly you're sure it would leave a bruise.

“If you keep doing that, I’ll have to fuck you on the counter.” He warns, but you can’t take it seriously, not when his voice is so breathy and raspy.

“Then do it.” You whine, begging the man to throw you onto the counter like a rag doll and fuck you into oblivion.

But he only shakes his head, hands cupping your flushed cheeks, “I still want to make you feel good.” Sunghoon presses a soft kiss on your swollen lips.

His fingers tug the waistband of your shorts, and you lift yourself up as he swiftly removes them— the warmth of your skin meeting the contrasting marble. “As much as I’d love to hear your pretty moans, try to be quiet, alright?” You nod quickly, impatient and desperate for him to just touch you already.

You suck in your stomach with a quiet gasp when his fingers trail across the smooth skin of your thighs, “So soft…” He mumbled against your lips, hands sliding to the inside of your thighs, higher…higher, until his fingers find their way to your underwear toying with its lacy hem, before reaching the place where you need him most.

You inhale sharply, almost failing to hold back a moan when he finally touches your clothed clit, fingers rubbing over the wet fabric. You’re almost embarrassed by how quickly you lean into his touch, inaudibly yearning for more.

“Fuck Hoon.” You breathe out, hands covering your mouth, muffling your needy moans as he traced over the wet spot in circular motions, whimpering every time his thumb

“You’re so wet.” Sunghoon hisses, bottom lip between his teeth as he stares at you, eyes dark and pupils slightly blown.

“Shit, is this all for me?” Sunghoon's velvety whispers against your lips seem so far away as your eyes flutter shut, “Sunghoon, please.” You manage to whimper out, hands meeting his naked chest.

“Please what?” He hums, feigning obliviousness and you groan, feeling your pride slowly wither away. “I…I need you.” You whined. “So bad.”

“Yeah?” Sunghoon coaxed and you nodded desperately, a smirk creeping onto his lips that you wished you could wipe off— if it wasn’t for the pent up sexual frustration you felt and its fate lying in his hands…literally.

He wasted no time meeting your pleas, dragging the fabric to the side as fingers slid against your slick glistening folds, hand flying to your mouth and head falling back at the newfound pleasure coursing through you.

Your other hand gripped his shoulders, nails digging into the skin of his back and earning a hiss from Sunghoon’s lips. His fingers easily slip into your hole, your arousal more than enough to let his fingers move with his ease— and you feel like you’re seeing stars.

“Fuck” A choked moan slips past your lips with a gasp, hand falling limp– overwhelmed with pleasure. “You like that baby?” Sunghoon coos, and you only hum in content, breaths coming in hitches as Sunghoon worked his fingers inside of you, pumping in and out at a satisfying and rhythmic pace.

Holding in your moans was getting harder and he could tell, watching your face contort in frustration and both pleasure, surprised your lips hadn’t started bleeding from biting too hard.

“...feels so good” You manage to let out, half lidded eyes meeting the man before you, practically enamoured by your presence. “I d-don’t think I can...fuck” You choked out. “Come on baby, I know you can take it.” Sunghoon’s words almost send you over the edge. Your head lulls forwards, mouth falling agape as strings of curses spill out of your lips.

As though he wanted to taunt you, you felt his thumb press onto your swollen clit, letting out a shocked and rather loud moan into the air. “Sunghoon-” You moaned, lips pursed together as you tried to compose yourself, but you were already falling apart.

The obscene noises of your drenched cunt and your choked moans and whimpers fill the kitchen, feeling your face grow warm. You hide your face in the crook of his neck and you hear Sunghoon chuckle, leaning back and lifting your head with fingers holding your face, “Come on baby, I wanna see your beautiful face when I make you come.”

Sunghoon could feel your legs beginning to tremble, as your walls fluttered around his fingers, chest heaving and soft moans becoming just a pitch higher.

His fingers quicken its pace, curving at an angle that seems to send you over the moon, failing to hold back your moans as he moves faster.

Afraid of another slip up, Sunghoon lips meet yours, swallowing your broken moans that can’t be helped as you near your high. An aching intense feeling begins to brew at the pit of your abdomen, driving your nails down the skin of his chest undoubtedly leaving a mark.

You cry his name out, followed by a mutter of profanities as you finally come around his fingers. “So beautiful.” He whispers, hand meeting your face as his thumb brushes the tears coating your lashes. He presses a gentle kiss on your parted lips— still a bit lightheaded to return it, slowly coming down from your high.

Sunghoon’s fingers finally slip out, a broken mewl leaving your lips at the lost feeling. He takes the liberty of cleaning his fingers with his tongue, heat rushing to your face as hums at the taste of you.

“What?” Sunghoon’s shrugs, “You taste good.” He smirks, hands finding the mess of your hair and pulling you into his lips, the kiss softer and more saccharine than the ones before.

You can still feel something poking your leg and your eyes flicker down to Sunghoon’s sweatpants, but before you can say anything, you hear the sound of a door click open upstairs and you and Sunghoon both exchange a look of alarm and horror.

The sound of Sooah’s voice sends you two in a frenzy, Sunghoon helping you slide off the counter as you pull down your shirt and scramble for your shorts.

“Y/N?” She calls out, feet pattering against the wooden stairs, as she descends to the first floor.

You both grab your long forgotten midnight snacks, settling yourself on a chair across from Sunghoon while he stands behind the counter…rightfully so.

When Sooah enters the kitchen, she thankfully doesn’t speculate anything, you two are both glued to your phones, scrolling on some sort of social media platform.

“Sooah, hey!”

“Hey…I was wondering where you went.” She smiled at you before her eyes flickered to her brother, exchanging their usual sibling formalities by grimacing at each other.

“I just came down for a snack, that's all.” You smiled, trying to conceal the mild shakiness of your voice.

Instead she moves closer to you, hands brushing your stray hairs into place, “Okay, well…I’ll see you upstairs.” And with that she leaves the kitchen.

Both of you let out sighs of relief, glancing at one another. Your face feels hot again, and you rise to your feet, a slight tremble in your thighs.

“I should…probably head back too.” You sigh, nodding your head upstairs.

“Oh! Yeah, right.”

The ceiling light highlights the rosy hue flushed on Sunghoon’s cheeks, his messy hair and plump lips, flashing you one of his pretty smiles, “I’ll see you later princess.”

As you leave the kitchen, Sunghoon fights the urge to pull you in for just one more kiss. His eyes linger until you disappear from view, and with a soft sigh, he runs his hands through his dark hair.

Now how was he going to fix his hard-on ?

#enhypen #enhypen x reader #enhypen smut #park sunghoon x reader #park sunghoon smut #sunghoon x reader #sunghoon smut #best friends brother #kpop smut #smut

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notquitecanon · 1 month ago

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Virtual Breadcrumbs || Poly!141 x hacker!reader

Summary: A kinda prologue to Search History, While you're having your menty b back on base, a little bit from the boys' perspective. Specifically Simon. Alexa, play Mastermind by Taylor Swift.

Part One Next Part

CW: NSFW MDNI 18+ female pronouns , porn, porn, lots of porn allusion, the boys are all handsy with each other, Simon's lowkey manipulating the situation, again irl this is harassment, stalking warning to be safe? mentions of oral and vaginal sex, really just me being nasty from Simon's point of view

It took a long time to gain access to Simon’s inner circle. Simon Riley had a habit of being intense, all or nothing, especially for those he’s decided to care about. His captain and his sergeants were in that inner circle, and he cared deeply, implicitly, about them. Health, safety, happiness, and something Simon was especially attuned to was keeping them sated. A man of action and acts of service.

Simon was neither a poet nor a psychologist, so he didn’t spend much time or energy putting definitive terms and conditions on whatever relationship the 141 shared. He cared and he was cared for, it was intimate on all levels, and that’s all that mattered to him.

A bond forged in bombs, bloodshed, and loyalty above all else. Four soldiers at the top of their game, literally battle-hardened (double entendre completely intended). He was content with his little circle.

However, he couldn’t fault the boys for missing something a little softer. Something a little sweeter, something a little more pliant. Hell, Simon wouldn’t mind burying his nose in a neck that didn’t smell like sweat, blood, and gunpowder.

That’s where you came in. Simon’s sharp eyes didn’t miss anything.

He saw how Price’s signature little smile rested on you whenever your explanations turned a little rambling, the look of pride in his eyes when you cracked a hard encryption- he’d called in a favor from Laswell to recruit you after all. How the Captain didn’t scold you when your work outfits were outside the civilian regulations (which was often), not that Price minded the view when you’d drop something and bend over to pick it up in your pretty skirts and heels.

He saw how Gaz would lean over your shoulder, just a hair too close to be friendly, and watch in a little bit of awe as you worked, how the two of you spoke in code (literally) to each other. He would watch Gaz get a little hot in the face with your flirty little quips over comms, voice a little tight as he returned them. How the sergeant would bring you little pastries or coffees on days they were on base, how prided he seemed when your face lit up, and when you’d unexpectedly touch him- grab his hand or bicep with your pretty painted nails? Simon would notice how Kyle would excuse himself to go do something else, sometimes dragging Soap off with him.

And Johnny. He tried not to show it, the Scot was as loyal as they came. A dog, Simon called him often, a mutt when he was being obnoxious. Simon’d noticed Johnny literally sniffing around you, his head following the lingering scent of perfume and shampoo when you passed. He was touchy with you, passing it off as being friendly, hugging you just a bit too tight to feel the squish of your body against his- a kind of softness Simon, Price, and Gaz just couldn’t replicate. It was a sport for him, to get you to blush or stutter.

And, fucking hell, the banter. Your voice, slightly crackly through their headsets, leading and chiding them through missions. Something about the distance or facelessness of it made you bold and teasing. Soap would egg you on over comms, sending you both down teasing explicit rabbit holes, until Price would remind both of you that the brass had access to these audio files, and you’d get shy and go quiet, but not for long. Gaz was fairly smooth with it, not often getting out of hand until you clicked off and he’d adjust his pants and collar mid-op. Something about Price’s authority kept you a bit tamer on him, but sometimes you would slip, and the way you got all shy and apologetic, Price’s chest would puff up a bit, beard twitching with a smirk as he’d ’scold’ you.

Simon’s men wanted you, bad. But none of them were going to be the first to admit it, none of them wanting to be the first to want more. Their loyalty to each other was their greatest value, but it was holding them back this time. But Simon had a plan, all he had to do was plant the seed.

The 141 had holed up in a grungy safehouse to rest and recoup before moving on to the next portion of this assignment. ‘House’ was a bit generous- there was no central heating and it was little more than a kitchen, bedroom, and bathroom, the living room was basically just the foyer with a pull-out couch that took up the entire floorspace when pulled out. The mission hadn’t gone to shit, but it was proving tedious, and stretching into a longer commitment than they’d planned for. Price was miffed about the time commitment, but it wasn’t anything new, it happened all the time.

Waiting for transpo from Nik and information that you were working on. Even Simon felt the sting of disappointment when you’d told them you’d need them to quit calling, that the data Price requested from you was proving to be a challenge that needed undivided attention. They were bored. Price and Gaz had slipped off somewhere so the Captain could work out some of his irritation, which in turn got Soap huffy and touchy.

Which was why the Scot was sitting, spine curled into Simon’s side, laid across the sofa still in full gear, long legs over the side while Simon simply sat up straight ( "s’too fuckin’ cold f’ this shite", he’d muttered after they’d found the wood for the old fashioned wood stove was both wet and molding, "Body heat it is, fucks sake." ), military-issue tablet using the secure network you and Gaz had set up. Too tired to do much of anything, too mission-wired to truly relax, restless and a little homesick.

Simon wasn’t surprised that it only took two rounds of solitaire before the Scot switched to the browser and started to look through the homepage of a porn website he didn’t recognize. They both knew this strategy, get yourself off a few times and your brain releases enough ‘good’ chemicals that you might be able to get some sleep. Johnny did seem uncharacteristically indecisive, getting quickly squirmy and irritated, as he continuously clicked ’next page’ waiting for something to catch his eyes.

A sniper always sees a good shot when it lines itself up, time to plant the seed.

"Give it ‘ere." Simon gruffed, plucking the tablet out of Johnny’s hands, only smirking at the coarse language Johnny offered in return, though he didn’t attempt to get the tablet back. Waiting curiously and not so patiently for whatever Simon was going to produce, what a good dog. The lieutenant took a couple minutes to find the right seed to plant, using key phrases that produced the results he was looking for.

He let Soap peruse his yieldings. The actresses had some things in common, familiar hair and eye colors, familiar because they shared them with you. And the actors doing such filthy things to them? Well, that was the seed (double entendre not intended) Simon was planting, the bone he was throwing to Johnny, all the actors were Scottish. The sniper knew his shot landed when Soap muttered under his breath, taking the tablet back, hips shifting a bit subconsciously as he scrolled, watching the thumbnails give little snippet previews, "Steamin’ Jesus, Lt…"

"Seen you sniffin’ around our analyst. Pretty bird." Simon shrugged but his eyes were just as fixed on all the thumbnails, girls that looked vaguely like you in all sorts of positions getting rammed on Johnny’s- sorry, the actor’s cock. He saw the look of (Catholic) guilt on the sergeant’s face, swirling with lust and a pretty flush under his stubble, so Simon swooped in with another seed, motioning to a thumbnail where an actress with the same hair as you was moaning, "Bet our bird'd look better, bet she’d sound better."

The guilt was gone, the seed planted and flourishing in the Scot’s brain, Johnny’s lips growing into a wicked grin as he settled on a video, not bothering with headphones or squirreling away in the bathroom. One video turned to three, the two men taking turns chiding and teasing the other, and when his sergeant finally burst, it was your name he called out.

Yes, his plan was going to work beautifully.

___

For a quick two-minute search with the sole purpose of quickly getting Soap off, Simon hadn’t been displeased with his results. Neither had Johnny if the spring in his step and uptick in screen time was any indication. The actresses shared features with you, but he was positive there was a closer match out there. And since he couldn’t exactly ask you, their lass in the chair as Soap called you, he turned to their other tech guru and the next part of his plan. Kyle.

He was a bit more straight-laced than either Simon or Johnny, he’d be harder to convince. Simon didn’t know if he had it in him to debate the morality of purposely seeking out a porn star that was as close as physically possible to you… Or how that might affect the relationship amongst the 141… Ghost wasn’t known for being the moral backbone of the task force, and this wasn’t an issue that could exactly be bullied to be won.

So, when first met with some resistance even if Garrick’s face was flushed and he was shifting in his seat, ("Simon, that’s… I don’t know what but it’s not right. What if she finds out-") he delegated some orders to Johnny.

Simon didn’t know what the Sergeants got up to- that’s a lie, he had a pretty good idea, and he expected a repeat performance later- but when they came back, Kyle’s eyes were still a little glazed and his shoes were on the wrong feet.

"Well?" Simon raised an eyebrow looking up from the rifle he was meticulously cleaning. Johnny was smirking smugly, belt still undone, nudging the other sergeant to remind him to answer their lieutenant. Gaz was nodding wordlessly for a moment, running a hand over his hair, slumping back in front of his military-issue computer, and opening a private browser.

"Yeah… Yeah, mate, I’m on it." Kyle was practically still panting from whatever Johnny had done to/for him. Simon smirked, going back to his rifle, until after a moment when Kyle’s voice was more level, he added his requirement, "If I find her-"

He paused, cheeks heating a bit as he reworded himself a bit, "A look-a-like, I mean, I get to taste her first."

Simon could work with that. 2 down, 1 to go.

____

Lastly, John Price. Saved him for last for a reason, but he was also the easiest. Simon waited until the assignment was on the up and up again. Summit fever to push through and go home had its claws in all of them. He knew it was a good time because, after the last firefight and subsequent march through the woods to a safe zone, all the boys were too tired to fool with each other... much. Price was sitting against a tree, that ridiculous hat of his resting on his propped-up knee, face illuminated by his cigar and the light of his phone.

Wordlessly, Simon crouched beside the captain and held his hand out expectantly for the phone. Price blew his smoke with a quirked brow but was curious to what the sniper had in mind, placing the device in the waiting gloved hand.

"What’re you up to, Simon?" Price inquired suspiciously, lowering his eyes to the light of the screen as it was handed back to him. His blue eyes, older looking than the captain really was, widened for a second before darkening in the low light of the forest, "So this is what the Sergeants’ve been on about, uncanny…"

Price watched the very short prelude, a woman who looked so much like you, wearing something a little racier than you’d wear to the office but as blood rushed elsewhere, Price found the realism didn’t matter much when if he squinted… it was you stripping off a cardigan and letting some sort of authority figure pop the buttons of your blouse before shoving you under a desk with your pretty painted lips wrapping around his- sorry, the actor’s throbbing cock…

Seeing the way John’s expression shifted, Simon smirked under his mask, raising back to his full height and returning to where he’d stashed his gear. His plan was almost complete, they were in the final stretch.

___

Simon was watching over Johnny’s shoulder, his hips occasionally rutting through his clothes into the scot’s back, a video that the sniper had chosen. Soap thought it was really funny that it happened to be from your doppelganger's Halloween playlist, but now was just as entranced watching the tall domineering figure clad in all black and mask absolutely ruin you her. The bed was a perk of finally making it to an actual base, with officer’s barracks, waiting for the official expo back to you home.

“Fuckin’ hell.” Simon groaned, biting Johnny’s shoulder through his mask and the sergeant’s t-shirt, as gloved hands twisted into hair just like yours. It was hard not to insert himself into the fantasy. A knock on the door made him growl, pulling him away from the delicious video and friction that Soap’s weight against him was providing. With more force than really necessary, Simon whipped the door open, only relaxing a little bit when Price was standing there with Gaz, both of them with their strategizing faces on. So, he wasn’t the only one making plans lately.

“See the new video that got posted?” Gaz questioned, looking down to unlock his tablet undoubtedly sharing it over to Johnny’s laptop still playing on Ghost’s bed. Both Lieutenant and Sergeant shook their head no. Johnny clicked on the share notification, releasing a breath that puffed his cheeks and raised his eyebrows as he read the title alone, the video still loading in the base’s less than ideal wifi (the 141’s latest habit undoubtedly eating up most of the bandwidth).

It was your doppelganger’s stage name accompanied by the words Barrack’s Bunny Gets Gang Banged!

“Fuckin’ Hell.” Simon repeated, words almost snarling his jeans chafing him as his cock twitched in his still buttoned jeans.

“We’re having a dinner at mine.” John decided cooly, seemingly unrelated, leaning in the doorframe. His demeanor was its usual casual confidence, but his eyes were dark with the kind of want that spelled disaster for anything that stood between him and his goal. The seeds Simon had planted were growing like invasive weeds, wild and quick, “She’s invited.”

“How’re we playin’ this?” Simon questioned relinquishing the reins to his captain, he was just as much of a soldier as the rest of them, he took orders well, watching as Gaz joined Johnny at the foot of the bed, both Sergeants watching the video together, hands already starting to wander, gear being unbuckled and unsnapped. Price smirked at the sight, adjusting himself through his camo cargos.

“Cooly. Don’t wanna spook th’ sweet thing.” He smiled, mostly to himself making himself comfortable on the tiny futon that had been cramped in Simon’s room as an ‘officer’s luxury’. The captain dwarfed it, and patted the limited space beside him for his lieutenant to join him, “We’ll have ‘er eating out of our hands. And then we’ll have her.”

Price said this with the same easy decisiveness as he’d have busting a terrorist cell, but the curl of his lip, how his legs spread to accommodate the growing erection in pants noted the difference for Simon, his captain nodding towards the Sergeant’s watching the video, their breaths already getting heavy. Kyle’s hands fisting the bed's blankets like he might slip away and Johnny’s hips were already rocking a bit. Price’s smirk grew, eyes flicking to Simon before looking back forward, “You’ve been busy, Simon. Never miss anything, do you?”

It was a mix of praise and teasing that, from his Captain, made Simon’s affirmative grunt a bit lower, something twisting in his gut, like a pet that wanted to be stroked more. Price chuckled deeply, nodding, “Bet that thick head’a yours hasn’t considered why you noticed alluv our infatuations with our little analyst, ‘ave you?”

Simon didn’t respond, watching how Johnny’s eyes lit up much in the same way they did when he was presented a puzzle (bomb) that caught his interest, how he moved Kyle’s hands aside and rewinded the video, once, twice, three times at something your lookalike did that scratched his brain just right. Mutt, Simon thought, waiting for Price to continue, knowing that the captain couldn’t resist teasing him just a bit. He’d expected as much, maybe a vulgar comment or two. He was not expecting a truth bomb that turned him both introspective and horny.

“Only reason you noticed how much we liked ‘er, cause you’re always watching her. You watch her just as much as y'watch any of us, wonder what that might mean?” Price shrugged, one hand working at his belt buckle before motioning for Gaz to turn the volume. The Captain actually laughed at the look in Simon’s eyes that most would miss before nodding back to the video and the Sergeants, “Now, watch the show."

Fucking hell.

Maybe it was that little bite of introspection or the flight home where they fleshed out every last detail of their plan to get you, the real you. (“Gaz and Johnny’ll do the leg work, play up the charm, and Ghost and I’ll work the opposite angle, strong and silent.”). Maybe it was how eagerly excited Soap was or how Ghost spent his extra time scrolling through your Instagram. Maybe it was the two brief interactions with you upon returning to base- how pretty your eyes were looking up at him through your lashes, how good you smelled, the movement of your skirt as Johnny spun you around, how you got jittery under his slightest touch in the briefing room…

By the time he found himself on Price’s couch, he was impatient. Knee bouncing, checking his watch, making Gaz track your location. When you’d been sitting out in your car for more than fifteen minutes, he all but growled, snapping at Soap, “Go get ‘er.”

And when Soap guided you inside, pulling one of those bright smiles out of you with his own jokes, and Gaz was helping you out of your coat like unwrapping a present, your cheeks already flushed all pretty from the Sergeants’ tag team flirting routine… He didn’t think he could wait for Price to put the steaks on the grill, he needed something to sink his teeth into, sooner rather than later. He was sure if he bit the curve of your neck, it’d be a lot like biting into a ripe peach… supple and sweet. Just like you.

Oh, his plan had worked, the seeds were planted and growing and overtaking every other thought in his mind other than making sure him and his boys were sated at dinner tonight, and you were on the menu.

____

To quote Sir Mix-A-Lot, "Little Does she know I'm a nasty DAWG."

Y’all are getting this because my writing app deleted what I had done on Search History pt 2. Reminder- the reader is loosely based on Penelope Garcia from Criminal Minds. The physical description is pretty vague, but lots of skirts and heels and makeup are mentioned, and I might have gotten carried away and implied

Once again: thanks to any and all tags and comments, i collect them and they will be buried in my pyramid when I die. seriously, they inspire me to keep going and I screen shot them to show to my friends :))))

Also so sorry if you got tagged twice im bad at taglists!!

Tags: @fruitymoonbeams-blog @viviennevianna @savas-q1 @cringeycookies @lainey-laines @buttercup337 @acosmisted @carqueensworld @tmartin0918 @dreamland08 @sheepdogchick @hidden-wildflowers @lilynotdilly @astrxsee @joopyjup @originalsoulcollector @henhouse-horrors @ohdrey89 @red5tars @cod-z @balletbiscuit @spacecrawllerr @scrumptioussportstoadgarden-blog @blues-of-neptune @monster-effer @yunho-leeknow @ungodlydilf @pluviofleur @jandthecrow @fangtoothgod @coquetterie-dancer @sapphires-and-silver-things @ghost-is-my-bbg @loveergirll @silly-starfish @popkle @honestlymassivetrash @not-mentally-sane @devoetee @beloveds-embrace @jellyamour @simon141price @divinecat @blckchrryy @coqwuette @abigail209 @spacecrawllerr @toomuchfluffs @blackhawkfanatic @eyeless-kun @eternallyelvish @8venusflytrap8 @yukisdelusional @nijiru @happythingtiger @lveegsoi @lilpothoscuttings @hazza3000 @aphinthestars @thisisew @firesgod @mishaglass @pievex @voguiing @supernova2205 @whisperwispxx @rejectedbytheempty @Bryan-writes @crypticlxrsh @mklovesbagels @midnightgrimoire @madzzz0797 @foxface013 @dreamland08 @ironzinc @misscaller06 @sevvygirl1995 @jenniferpendragon @silentscream2022 @ungodlydilf @sillylittlereader @gazsluckyhat @thychuvaluswife @emo-kitty-love @iloveoutlinesiswear @thriving-n-jiving @viviennevianna @corvid007 @an-ever-angry-bi @merpancake @echo9821 @yunho-leeknow @astrxsee @aira1995 @lostintransit @uraeus56 @sirbonesly @monster-effer @fangtoothgod @ohdrey89 @katheriner1999 @a-sentimental-lapse-in-time @wonderlandfandomkingdom @almostdecadentstarfish @openup-yourmind @thirdtimesthecharm @supernova2205 @starlightmoon2020 @ayyisasra @certainlygay @smuttydegenerate

#call of duty modern warfare x reader #codmw x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #141 x reader #captain price x reader #john price x reader #cod mwii x reader #john mctavish x reader #Johnny Soap Mctavish x reader #Soap x reader #soap mctavish x reader #kyle garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #Gaz x reader #poly141 xreader #poly!141 x reader #poly!141

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gf2bellamy · 1 month ago

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ramble — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x reader ( no use of y/n ) summary: spencer reid is rambling but you don't mind content warnings: ppl being bored of spencer's ramble

The bullpen was alive with the usual hum of chatter that masked the team's half-hearted attempts at paperwork. While case files sat open on their desks, the atmosphere was anything but productive.

Derek leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed behind his head as he finished a story about a failed flirtation. “And she didn’t even recognize me,” he groaned, slumping forward dramatically. “I mean, come on. I was unforgettable.”

Penelope didn’t miss a beat, rolling her eyes and waving a hand in mock exasperation. “Oh, poor Derek. How ever will your ego survive such a tragedy?”

You laughed at their exchange, shaking your head at Derek’s overly dramatic retelling. Across the bullpen, Spencer sat at his desk, directly in front of yours. He glanced up from his file, his fingers tapping absentmindedly on the desk.

“Did you know,” Spencer began, his voice cutting through the banter, “that statistically speaking, people are more likely to remember faces than names? It’s due to the fusiform face area in the brain, which is specifically attuned to facial recognition. The process of encoding a face involves—”

As Spencer launched into his explanation, you turned your full attention to him, your curiosity piqued. You watched the way his hands moved as he spoke, punctuating his words with small, precise gestures.

Before you could ask him to elaborate, Derek cut in with a grin. “Thanks for the fun fact, pretty boy, but I think I zoned out halfway through that one.”

Garcia, always quick to follow suit, added with a teasing smile, “Spence, we love you, but you’ve gotta learn to cut your TED Talks into soundbites.”

The teasing was lighthearted, but Spencer’s shoulders slumped slightly as he glanced back down at his papers. He muttered a soft “sorry” before awkwardly adjusting his pen.

You glanced between Derek and Garcia, who had already resumed their playful bickering, and felt a pang of frustration.

“Spence,” you said gently, calling his attention.

He lifted his head, his hazel eyes meeting yours with a hesitant curiosity. “Yeah?”

You gave him a warm smile, leaning forward slightly. “I was actually going to ask you something about what you just said. How does the brain distinguish between similar faces? Like, how does it know to pick out subtle differences?”

His expression lit up, the hesitation melting away as he straightened in his seat. “Oh! That’s a great question. It has to do with the way our brains process fine details, like the spacing between eyes or the curve of someone’s lips and—”

As Spencer explained, his voice grew more confident, and the enthusiasm in his tone was infectious. You nodded along, genuinely fascinated, occasionally asking follow-up questions to keep him going.

Derek, noticing the exchange, leaned over to Garcia with a raised brow. “Looks like someone actually appreciates the genius over there.”

Garcia smirked, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “About time someone did.”

Unaware of their comments, Spencer finished his explanation, a small, proud smile tugging at his lips. “Does that make sense?” he asked, his gaze searching yours.

“Completely,” you replied with a grin. “Thanks for explaining.”

For a moment, Spencer just looked at you, his face softening. “You’re welcome,” he said, his voice quieter now but filled with a kind of gratitude that was hard to miss.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff

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somnoir · 2 months ago

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Gotham's newest Crime Lord - part 2

Part 1 | Masterpost

Wraith wrecked havoc like no other.

He was loved and hated by the masses. Defended by Gotham regardless of what they felt of him. A figure in the underworld that hunted down those who moved to harm one of their kin and executed anyone who laid their hands in the weak—children.

The first explosion had been explained by the scattering papers and the anonymous posts of an organization who went after children with malicious intent. Blatant evidence that had people rallying to the GCPD to demand for justice. It was glorious and horrific—especially once they found out that it was Wraith who tossed the Joker into the harbor.

The Bats, by all means, attempt to find him. Figure him out, at least. But the man was a mystery. It was worse considering the majority of Gotham were eagerly telling the Bats to fuck off whenever they tried to hunt down Wraith. The only thing they ever got out of him was that his second in command—Phantom—was the nicer one between them. If you wanted civil negotiations, try and look for Phantom instead.

As much as they wanted to go directly to Wraith, this was their best shot. Their only shot.

"Had any luck finding Phantom?" Dick's hand rested on Tim's shoulder, trying to support his clearly tired brother. Tim was a little to determined, kinda desperate to find this guy.

"Nothing. Their names are trigger words." Tim clicked his tongue, "It's fucking up the system. Remember Ghostmaker's ghostnet? Any attempts makes you want to shut off your systems because of how encrypted they could get."

"Searching up their names gave the Batcomputer a virus?!" Steph gawked, leaning over Tim and staring at the computer. They could all tell he was wary, trying not to type in certain words to keep the damn tech sage from that mania.

"Wraith and Phantom are either metas with technology altering powers..." Barbara hums, "Or they have someone else doing this. Imagine them having their own version of the calculator... But worse and more annoying."

"So our new crime lord has a hacker... That has given the Batcomputer a virus." Dick slowly said, "And is still operating without us finding out."

"Hood and Robin are out trying to find Phantom." Barbara points to the two dots hurriedly moving through crime alley. "Hopefully they find him."

"Any news on Wraith?"

"His latest stint involved tearing down one of Black Mask's operations. Several bodies were found in the harbor."

"Why the harbor?"

"It's his MO, I think. It's always the harbor where he dumps the bodies."

Tim frowns, "Like it's his trash can.... For bodies."

"Hasn't the harbor always been the body trash can of Gotham?" Steph sighs, before turning away to stare at Cass who was training in the simulators again.

Dick glared at her for the comment but once again looked back to the screen.

"Hopefully they find Phantom soon... before Wraith drops more bodies."

Phantom was the nicer of the two—claimes by many people who told them Wraith was a little on the quieter side. No one truly knew but he was quieter than a lot of them.

Crime Alley was Red Hood's territory, everyone knew that. But apparently, Wraith has been operating in the same area from time to time. Mainly to return kids to the alley (freshly claimed by that flaiming white symbol). But Wraith did so quietly. They checked in from time to time to see if the kids were alright.

To be specific...

Phantom came to visit to see if the children they had returned and claimed were safe. Often coming with resources that he mainly reserved for the kids.

"Found him." Jason muttered, voice distorted through the modulator as he narrowed his eyes at the young man dressed in monochrome colors. His binoculars zeroed on the young man with white (seriously??) boots and gloves. The rest of his outfit was black, with a jacket still in monochrome colors. Jason frowned at the hood that covered his head.

"Let's go, Hood. Nightwing and father wants—"

"Stay out of it, Robin." Hood instantly growled. Jason has never felt so territorial before but this guy was in his territory—doing good, keeping the kids safe, marking them so no one tried going after them. "Phantom is Wraith's lieutenant. We don't need to make an enemy of the nicer one and piss of the one who ordered the explosion."

"I can handle him!"

"You'll piss him off!"

Robin scowled, crossing his arms over his chest. "And you won't? Phantom clearly is fond of children and I am a child—"

"With katanas. You're a murderous child. Wraith and Phantom claim children who are in danger. Not the danger." Jason scoffed, while Damian opted to look utterly smug at the statement.

"Stay here." Jason drops down from the building.

He, unfortunately, didn't account for Phantom pulling out a sword from nowhere and immediately pointing it at Jason. The kids behind the man were quick hide behind him, cowering in fear until the recognition sets in their eyes.

"Wait! That's the Red Hood!" A girl yells, standing between them. Stupid but very brave. "He's one of the good ones!"

Phantom, who wore a mask that covered half his face yet showed his eyes, immediately lowered his sword once the girl was between them.

Jason froze, unable to tear his gaze away from Lazarus eyes—no... That shade of green was much purer than the pits... Phantom narrowed his eyes at Jason, before turning back to the girl. "You go and take care of your little sister, yeah? If your mom forgets to feed you again, tell her I'll give her a visit."

The girl nods, but she whirled around and gave Jason the nastiest glare an 8-year-old could give. "You hurt mr. Phantom and I'll tell Wraith!" She pointed an accusing finger at him, frowning before she gives Phantom a quick hug and makes a run for it with the other kids.

Soon enough, they're left alone... Staring at one another.

"I was wondering when one of you Bats would finally find me." Phantom hums, sliding his hand over the hilt of his sword.

Jason warily watched it disappear from sight. Okay. Possible meta, definitely has powers. "You're a hard man to find, Phantom."

"Not for you, I guess. I come and go into your haunt to check in on the kids every week." Phantom laughs, tilting his head.

Jason could see snow white hair from under the hood, making him shudder as the deathly green eyes are brought back to his attention.

"Every week, huh?" Jason clicked his tongue. "I'll cut to the chase. Your boss's stint—" he swore that Phantom twitched "—pissed of the big Bat. He ain't happy tnag Wraith is bombing up buildings and killing people."

Phantom visibly rolled his eyes, "Too bad then. Wraith's pretty direct when it comes to this shit. Trafficking and pimping kids make him murderous but the fact that those bastards were killing them and selling their organs? He's damn genocidal at this point. Can't say I disagree with that."

Jason... Well... Jason can't argue with that. If he found out that some bastards were doing that to kids, he'd go ballistic too. But Bruce didn't agree with these methods and was rather reproachful about it. But Wraith wasn't going to back down. This wasn't a normal rogue that had felt fear of the Batman and his brood before. To be honest, Jason thinks he's pretty ballsy.

"I don't disagree with that shit either. But Batman ain't going to let him off the hook after that stunt." Jason warned, grunting as he spoke through the modulator. The pits were flaring up again. But not malicious, not murderous. It was curious as it warmed his chest and practically urged him to get closer to Phantom.

"Yes, well... Piece of advice—Wraith is willing to blow up an entire district if it meant keeping others safe. And besides, your rogues know not to mess with him. Not after the Joker." He didn't actually see Phantom's face but he's pretty sure that the bastard was grinning.

"So he really did it."

"If it makes you feel any better, the Joker might as well be cursing him from the afterlife. It was an accident." Phantom shrugged.

An accident, Jason breathed out. Holy fuck, that would have been humiliating for the Joker. His death. An accident. Unintentional and he still died, his body dumped into the harbor.

"Anyways, tell Batsy not to mess with the kids. I know he doesn't, but he let the Joker live, so..." Phantom gave him a thumbs up, "Make sure to not cross pass with Wraith or else you'll end up in the harbor."

Jason gawked, watching as Phantom slipped into the shadows and promptly disappeared. Meta. Definitely a meta.

"Hood, report." Batman's voice rang through the comms.

"Red Hood," he grunts, "Wraith sure as hell doesn't like you, old man. And Phantom might be the nice one but he might as well be as stabby as Robin."

"I agree with Hood. He has wonderful posture, father!" Robin spoke, sounding impressed and smug.

The little shit.

"Technus, stop bullying Oracle." Dan groaned once he caught the ghost tampering with the net... Again.

The crime lord turned towards Danny, who melted out of the shadows again. Technus was blabbering about pesky bats and birds before Dante clocked his younger brother's apprehension. He looked....annoyed and concerned.

"I talked to Red Hood."

"YOU WHAT?!"

"Fun fact! He's a revenant!"

"THE FUCK YOU MEAN THE OTHER CRIME LORD IS A REVENAN?!"

"A very sexy looking one."

He was going to punch Danny. He was going to fucking punch Danny.

(Danny was not punched.)

"He said that Batman's pissy about you blowing up shit." Danny shrugged, shaking his head before floating over to the energy drinks and coffees by Dan's desk. "Good news though! I told him he'd end up in the harbor if he ever tried anything with us."

Dan gawked, "What the fuck is wrong with you?! You want to make the bats our enemies?"

"No! I'm commiting to our crime family bit!"

"We're not a crime family!"

"Tell that to Ellie. She's already got herself a new suit and everything."

Dan threw his hands up in the air, groaning at the insanity that was his younger siblings. Dear ancients, he was praying that Jazz wouldn't find out about the shit they've done in Gotham. She'd give them the worst tongue lashing the world has ever experienced if she did. Thank God she was in Yale right now.

"Ooh! A crime family, you say?" Technus grinned, floating closer to Danny who lounged in Dan's chair. (Get the fuck away from my crime lord throne, Danny! The leather is expensive!)

"That is perfect! The others have decided to migrate here, did you know? It's been quite... Boring back in Amity." Technus snickered.

Fuck. No.

"I bet my trust from Vlad that Johnny, Kitty, and Ember are already on their way." Danny cackled, "That'd be nice. Elle's been itching to steal Johnny's bike again."

"Splendid! We shall wreck havoc upon Gotham and exact justice that the Bats cannot give the people!" And like a supervillain, Danny cackled as he stood on Dan's desk, laughing maniacally.

(Just outside, the Wraith's goons peaked into the room and saw the insanity that was the nice lieutenant's villainy.)

Meanwhile, in the distance, the laughter of Johnny 13 and Kitty rang through the streets of Gotham.

Part 3 | Masterpost

#Gotham's newest Crime Lord #dead on main #maybe #jason todd #batman #crossover #nightwing #red hood #danny fenton #dpxdc #dc x dp #danny phantom #Dan is stressed cause the nice one is kinda more chaotic #He's trying his best to be good okay!#Danny and Elle are kinda set on making a crime family of ghosts to mess up Gotham #The bats are just as stressed as Dan at this point #Babs and Tim are now Technus' nemesis

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alexiroflife · 6 months ago

Note

Okay but imagine if Sukuna's fav concubine successfully runs away from court life because she's tired of the bullying and walking around eggshells with Sukuna? (bonus points if he continues to be with other concubines) She ends up working in an orphanage or something ☠️ But do you think Sukuna will look for her or not???? 🤔🤔🤔 (manifesting that it's an angst to comfort 😌😌😌🤞🤞)

“betrayal”

heian era sukuna, just a tad different from the exact request but with the same principle

ryomen sukuna x concubine!reader

Synopsis: sukuna wakes one morning to find that you, his favorite concubine, are nowhere to be found. now, he must make your absence everyone else's problem.

to sum it up: you do not understand your relationship with sukuna, and it burdens you more to endure the abuse you receive from his favoritism than to stay

WC: 5,760

Warning(s): suggestive themessss, destructive treatment of some concubines, violence, twinge of angst

“WHERE IS SHE?!”

Sukuna’s voice is a roaring boom of thunder that can be heard even from the farthest floors of his grand estate, its bass shaking the walls as servants and concubines alike tremble upon hearing it.

The quivering hearts of those nearby are not at all settled when the sharp, alarming symphony of glass shattering and furniture toppling resounds against the wooden floorboards and into the meticulously decorated wallpaper. A line of servants stand directly outside of Sukuna's quarters with sweat beading down their foreheads, serving to provide assistance if or whenever the lord calls for it.

And those who could keep far away, they avoid stepping anywhere near the vicinity of a raging Ryomen Sukuna for fear that the next thing broken will not be an antique lamp but their heads.

Sukuna's order of women, specifically, cower in their chambers, listening carefully to muffled noises so distant from them to catch even a glimpse of what may happen next. Concubines decked in floral kimonos huddle together, staring up at the ceiling with each crumble of debris that showers from overhead as a result of the large king's monstrous frame thudding about.

Uraume stands alone within Sukuna's chambers, having been called there directly, doing their best to keep a professionally calm face despite the subconscious jolt in their shoulders every time one of Sukuna's arms thrusts down into yet another expense that they will have to add to the day's damages when it.

"My lord," the king's right hand begins pensively, sneaking a hand out from its regal place within the cuffs of their kimono as the salmon haired demon resorts to furiously pacing back and forth. The white-haired servant tries their best to keep their balance with each step he takes, which could only be described as the parade of an elephant dancing around mice. "The handmaidens, butlers, and I have searched everywhere for her. There is no trace of her left in the estate."

Another loud crash shoots throughout the room, Uraume wincing yet quickly regaining their composure once Sukuna's crimson eyes snap back to them lividly. Uraume has seen their master in many forms, including anger, but this rage levels that of which they have seen displayed in him before. Sukuna's practically a ticking time bomb, waiting to explode with his arms swinging heavily at his sides, one occasionally switching to swipe over his chin, another propping over his hip temporarily. He's antsy, frighteningly so, and Uraume unfortunately, for the first time, has no clue what to do in this situation.

Mainly because this entire tantrum has been sparked by you, a lowly concubine, who has dared to betray her king's trust and loyalty to sneak off without a word. No one knows how long you have been gone, as it is the early morning, but Sukuna took notice the moment he began his day.

The entire estate is well aware of Sukuna's selective favoritism over you, though no one is exactly sure how it started. You are fairly new as well, having been with them for about half a year when the other concubines and servants have been lingering around for far longer.

When the King of Curses was first led to you, your kneeling stance with your head bowed to your hands and your beautiful purple kimono draping over your figure to the ground, he had little interest in you. Sure, your figure looked appealing on a general basis, and granted the demon had not even allowed himself five seconds to truly look at you, but he is unimpressed until your head raises and your (e/c) eyes meet his on command.

There is something in your gaze that Sukuna decided stands out against the desperate pleas whispering in those of previous concubines. Perhaps a bit of pain... disdain... a sourness that you attempt to mask with the generous warmth of your (s/c) skin and butterfly lashes, rather involuntarily, and Sukuna has to pause as he stares down at you with indifference.

Are you angry? He knows that the concubines in his care are hardly treated nicely by those bringing them to his feet, but boo hoo. You're a woman, and a concubine at that. If you're wallowing over unfair treatment, then you surely have no place in his brothel.

But then, you hold his stare for as long as he examines you. His eyes scatter over your features, taking them in silently with no care for whether you are growing nervous under him. Even if you are, however, he can not tell. Your eyes are so clear as if they have never told a lie, and you are not challenging him but giving him the opportunity to soak you in even longer.

"Stand," he suddenly, gruffly orders, and you do with such poise. You close your eyes politely and push yourself to your feet slowly, opening your eyes once more once you are on your feet.

Hell, you're tiny, much like the rest of the women compared to all of his seven foot glory, yet you do not shrink under his shadow. You stand proud, serene, as though you know you are a rare prize, and Sukuna can do nothing but make a strange noise of unitelligible affirmation under his breath before turning on his heel and leaving the room.

"Send her to my chambers in an hour. I shall see if this lowly woman can appease me."

And by the grace of his name, you do.

He doesn't even have to be inside you for longer than a second to be completely thrown by your warmth, the way your tight cunt responds to him so obediently after he's bullied one of his lengths into your drooling hole, the plush of your ass gripped lethally within his claws and drawing strands of blood as he plows into you inhumanely.

And you take it. You whine, and groan, and cry, but you beg for more and thank him for every monstrous inch he gives you. He does not even mean to go over his normal set time with his concubines of about twenty minutes when he finds he's been fucking you for hours, and your body is still with him.

You've become a babbling, tear-stained, overstimulated mess with your fingers digging into the pillow that your face is smashed in, his second throbbing cock well situated now into your bum as he thrusts relentlessly like some sort of vicious animal. You're aching, trembling and hardly speaking a lick of sense, but Sukuna only pushes you farther, for he just can not get enough.

Consequently, you slowly begin to find yourself in his bed once a week, then twice, then about three or four times... then maybe twice in a day, and hell, why not just drag you along with him as much as he possibly can all seven days of the week?

Sukuna takes an immense liking to you, so much so that he begins to allow you to speak less and less formally with him behind closed doors. He'd ridicule you for being late, and with politeness still soaked in your voice, you'd say something smart like:

"I was not aware that thirty seconds was considered late, my lord."

Sukuna knows then that he's begun to let you get away with too much, yet as he fucks you into next week as punishment, he tells himself internally that he could get used to this.

You are far more than beauty. You are class, grace, and character that the other concubines severely lack, and the next thing you know, Sukuna is ordering you to sit on his thigh upon his throne with him as he listens to citizens or servants speak.

The salmon-haired demon has attempted to entertain other selections of his concubines, simply to conduct an experiment for himself if he can still derive pleasure from the others, but after at least ten rather boring fucks with women who are not you, he concludes that you are the best of them. Of them all.

And you are so humble, taking on his attention. You walk about the halls as though you are no more special than the others, which you are, and it has the girls boiling over the top with jealousy.

The bullying starts rather quickly after your favoritism is known.

You return to your quarters to find your bedding ripped apart, or feel elbows jab into your back as you pass by that is often brushed off as an "accident" with a conniving snicker and a toss of hair, or insults splattered in ink all over the inside of your kimonos that you can not wash out.

You have never brought this to Sukuna's attention, for you felt there was no need, especially since all of you are under his care despite the feuds spreading about. Whenever you need a new kimono or sheets, you go to Uraume, who asks no questions and simply replaces the things damaged. They already know what’s going on, and though they recognize you as a favorite, they do not share anything with Sukuna either on the direct order that he should not be bothered by concubine business unless it has to do with him.

And that is what you are. A concubine, no matter how the lord favors you, how often he tells you with his fangs dipped into your neck and his fingers gripping any limb of your body that it feels as though you are made for him. No matter how delicately he has begun to grip your waist when you approach him, dull eyes glinting with lust and interest as he stares down at you and you up at him. No matter how your heart has begun it’s pitter patter each time he addresses you by your name, something he has not bothered to learn from the others but has sworn to remember by you.

You were still one of hundreds of women here to serve only for Sukuna’s pleasure. You’re a number, and while Sukuna may not see you as such any longer, the other concubines ensure that you remember your place and who you are.

You’re a secure woman, and initially you did not allow the insecurities of others to impact you, but as the cruelty and frequency of the bullying increases, it wears down your tolerance bit by bit. Nudging turns to pinching and shoving, you can no longer eat in their presence without food landing in your hair or down your clothes, and you barely sleep at night for fear that one of them will come to harm in you in your slumber as they have on many occasions prior.

And you’re tired. So very tired. Sukuna himself even begins to notice a shift in you, how dull your eyes look when you meet him and how quiet you have become. He has demanded you tell him what is wrong, which you always reply that you have not gotten enough sleep, which is not necessarily untrue, and Sukuna has no reason not to believe it because he is not aware of the world that transpires amid the concubines when they are not actively serving him.

He is no fool, though. He has an inkling that something is going on, but he holds off on saying anything. He waits, watches.

But unfortunately, he has waited too long when you decide upon yourself that you can not take this torment anymore, that you are no more worthy of Sukuna than then next peasant. That both you and him would be better if you parted, if he no longer had a woman to favor that created such profound rifts within the community.

There is no place for you, a concubine hopelessly in love with your lord, within the estate. Sukuna feeds off of your unspoken and unknowns affections, and it has created nothing but hell for you and everyone else. So you vanish.

And Sukuna is pissed.

“You mean to tell me that she just fucking left in the middle of the night and nobody saw her?” he seethes. “You did not see her?!”

Uraume takes in a deep breath. “Unfortunately not, my lord. I was in the kitchen all night making preparations for today’s courses as usual. I’m sure the other servants were asleep as well.”

“That ungrateful brat,” he addresses you as if cursing you, your name a sweet, sick poison on his tongue. “She’s got some fucking nerve.”

“It is appalling that a concubine would do such a thing as flee your court,” Uraume instantly agrees.

“After everything I’ve given her!” he grows angrier by the second, thinking back to the privilege he bestowed upon you. You dare now to make him look weak? Another fist lands into a vase that smashes it to pieces, the memory too overwhelming to mull over without feeling as though he is going to murder someone. “When I get my hands on that girl…”

“How would you like to proceed? I have men already on the hunt-“

“Send them back.”

“…Pardon, my lord?” Uraume blinks.

“You know I do not enjoy repeating myself, Uraume.”

“I apologize. I will-“

“I want every one of them back in this estate. No one is to come or go, and if they do they shall suffer directly at my hand,” Sukuna snarls. "I will look for her myself."

Uraume bows their head. “Yes, my lord.”

“And what of the concubines?” he grunts.

“What of them?”

“I find it hard to believe that they did not hear (Y/n) take her leave, nor think it a matter not to inform me of immediately.”

Sukuna stops his pacing, standing heavily in the middle of the room as he glares to the side now in thought.

“It would be wise to inform you that when I asked them about her disappearance before coming here, they all behaved as though they were unsure of what was going on,” Uraume speaks with a hint of disdain, and Sukuna’s eyes darken.

Slowly, it pieces together that they have something to do with this.

“All of them in the throne room. Now.”

Petrified faces line before Sukuna as he uncharacteristically stands before his throne rather than sits, his personal arm candy nowhere to be found and frankly making him all the more uneased. Uraume, who has rounded up the women, stands to the side as they all kneel in rows on the floor, shivering with fear.

"Someone start talking," Sukuna's voice grumbles out, so menacingly, so deep that it shakes the women's cores. Those who bully you have lost any lick of confidence they found in your wake as they keep their widened eyes to the floor, mouths clamped shut, paralyzed with fear. "Do not play dumb with me. I know you all know exactly what I am referring to."

Silence filters the air, the concubines unsure of how to proceed or what to say.

"Where is she?"

The question ehcoes again, and "she" falls like a boulder crushing to the earth. You are so prized that Sukuna does not even need to address you by your name for everyone to know who he is talking about. It makes their blood boil, to be petrified on behalf of your absence. What makes you so special anyway?

"Your lord has asked you a question," Uraume adds firmly, fueling the tension within the room. "I suggest one of you answers it."

"Must I begin punishing you one by one until you learn to use your mouths and speak when I ask you to?" Sukuna fumes when he is still met with nothing, and this threat finally encourages on concubine to twitch her head slightly then speak.

A brunette girl. One of your abusers.

"We do not know where (Y/n) is, Lord Sukuna," she says with a trembling voice, head still bowed. "We... we woke, and she was gone-"

"And yet no one said a word until I took notice, and Uraume in turn."

She whimpers. "We did not think to-"

"Silence." She stops, for Sukuna can read rather clearly through her facade. He can read the energy of the entire room, in fact. It does not seem that any one of these women cares very much about your whereabouts or what has happened to you, almost as though they wanted you go in the first place. "You," he gestures to a short haired woman, who takes the risk of peeking upward to ensure that Sukuna is addressing her, for somehow she just knew.

She quickly looks back down. "Yes, Lord Sukuna?"

"Tell me why (Y/n) ran away."

She gulps, eyes scattering over the floor as she conjures up a response. "I do not know, my Lord."

The king's eyes slim, one set of burly arms crossed over his chest. His patience, at this point, is non-existent. He needs to know where you are. He needs to find you know, and so help anyone who got in his way.

"Liar," he says.

With the flick of his wrist, a slicing motion resounds through the air followed by a pitched scream of agony. The victim stares down in hair as her hands fly from her wrists within an instant, sprouting blood from her wrists and pooling over the floor. The concubines grow aware of the action, having no choice but to look up upon hearing such a sound and panic at the sight of blood and the woman now stripped of her hands.

"Now, let me make myself perfectly clear," Sukuna announces over the rise of cries throughout the room. Uraume closes their eyes with a deep sigh, watching everything unfold. "The next one of you who dares to lie to my face will lose more than just her hands. Understood?"

Warbled sobs of understanding and nods flutter about the room while short haired woman struggles to sit up, lifting her trembling limbs to her teary eyes with quivering parted lips of shock. It does not take long before she is passing out, and Sukuna rolls his eyes.

"Uraume, get her out of here."

Once the wounded woman is removed from the environment, a pool of blood left in her spot and trailing behind her, the concubines double down into sniveling submission.

"Why did (Y/n) leave?" he repeats.

Suddenly, overlapping voices jump out with their own explanations in desperate attempts to plead their cases. Sukuna's eye twitches as he listens on for only a few seconds before shutting it down.

"I do not recall telling you all to ramble ontop of each other. Speak one at a fucking time. Tch. You should know better than that."

The room dips into instant silence, followed by one meek voice that speaks out. “S-She never said anything about leaving,” she shivers.

"Of course she didn't, that would have defeated the purpose of sneaking away," Sukuna growls. "Clearly, however, something has transpired within this group to encourage her to leave, am I mistaken?"

"Yes, my lord. I'm sure, my lord," she is quick to go along, for she is not one of your bullies and Sukuna can tell by the look on her face and the way she obliviously rambles on. "Perhaps... she felt unwelcome...?"

And oh, there it is. The icing on the cake, the very piece that sets those guilty for your absence into a momentary state of shock and solidifies Sukuna's assumptions.

"Unwelcome?" he cocks a brow, reciting the word slowly. "By who."

The crimson eyed king's eyes do not miss the way the concubine flashes a glance over to the brunette from earlier swiftly, only to look back down and swallow hard.

With a slow tilt of his head, Sukuna follows her brief line of sight with a hum. While he may not know just exactly what has been transpiring between you and some of these women, he knows that he has identified one involved. One who likely pushed you to run off so disrespectfully.

Sukuna does not know what it is about you that has him driven onto the brink of insanity due to your absence. He knows its not just because of sex, because he can find sex anywhere. He's surrounded by women who provide those services. There's something about you specifically though that makes fucking feel less of a habit, a simple release for pleasure and more so a desire, a thrill, a need. A need with you.

It's your company that he has grown so accostumed to, his frequent access to you, and to be stripped of it so suddenly is a crime in itself. You can not deprive the King of Curses of the very thing you were hired to do. You can not just leave and expect him not to scrounge and burn every corner of this earth until he finds you and punishes you for putting him through the trouble of searching for you. You're a brat. A pain, and Sukuna somehow needs you around, so when he looks the brunette woman dead in the eye, he knows he has to kill her.

Sukuna leaves the concubines traumatized when he treks out to look for you on his own, scorching earth, terrorizing villagers, destroying home after home in search for you and somehow you still are not within his grasp.

Citizens retreat scramble about and retreat to safety, trembling in fear as your name rings out through the air like a battle cry, flame flittering into the call as though hell itself is beckoning you. There is no building that Sukuna does not plan to visit, no alleyway unsearched, no creak unexplored, and just when the demon feels he is prepared to slaughter a nation, you hear a distant cry of your name from afar.

A shiver licks its way down your spine and you jump, whipping your head around.

"(Y/n)?" a gentle, present woman's voice calls from behind you. "That is your name, isn't it?"

Your brows draw together and a pit develops in your stomach, eyes to the door of the orphanage you took shelter in miles away from Sukuna's estate. "...Yes," you say slowly, mind distracted.

"Strange. I think I just heard someone calling you from somewhere."

You don't know why you follow the voice.

You left for a reason. You'd been gone since the middle of the night, and you had promised not to return, but you follow his voice anyway as though it beckons you. You always knew better than to ignore the King of Curse's when he calls you, and you can't say that you have prepared to outgrow the habit. Not within the mere hours you have been absent.

The real reason you go back, you want to tell yourself, is to prevent Sukuna from disturbing the peace of the shelter you sought in confidence. You know that if you heard him from where you were staying, he would have continued to make his way further and further down until he found you, and you were not fond of the idea of him tormenting innocent women and children for your sake.

And while you expected to be greeted by an irritated Sukuna, you did not expect the scene that greets you when you round a street corner blocks down during your walk.

You halt in your tracks, heat greeting your skin. Your eyes go wide, your face falls, and before you lay a street aglow with the aftermath of what looks like the tosses of flame and fire. Ash flitters into the sky, windows of businesses are broken, and the entirety of the brick street is empty save for debris and dying flames. It looks as though some kind of bomb or explosion went off and those within the vicinity either fled or got caught in the attack.

Your hands go to your mouth as you study the scene in shock, your skin going cold despite the heat.

You are too entrapped with your shock to notice the shadow that envelopes you from behind when it first arrives. Its eerily quiet, save for the crackle of lingering fire ahead, and you go to take a step back in fear when you hit something hard.

You tense completely, pupils shrinking and gaze unfocusing. You recognize the feeling, the smell, the heat. You recognize the sheer unfathomable mass towering over you without having to turn around, the raw surge of evil that potrudes and surrounds you, caging you in normally so enticingly, but this time so terrifyingly.

You swipe your tongue over your lip anxiously, your heartbeat rapidly hammering into your chest. You shouldn't turn around. You shouldn't look up. You know what will happen, but you can't help yourself. You can not fight the urge as you slowly twist your head around and tilt your chin upward to meet the glowing pairs of red eyes that you'd grown to adore searing down at you from so far above.

You breathe heavily, caught in the lock of Sukuna's wild glare. He appears almost feral with anger to you, some sort of sick enraged smirk twisting onto his face that is anything but kind. You don't say a word as the street burns behind you and your hands stick stiffly to your sides.

"Care to explain what the hell you are doing?"

You know that tone of voice so well by now. It is monotone and low, almost inaudible with its bass yet it carries so crisply. It comes of as calm, but the underlying emotion is anything but. He is pissed, if that is not clear enough from his face and stature, and if you were anyone else you think you'd be dead, but Sukuna's values his possessions and his means of true pleasure far too much. He would do something much worse to you than death. He would be sure of it.

"Mm? Can't talk?" he frowns when you don't answer. You flinch when a hand comes to clasp over your cheeks and squish, sharp nails prodding into your skin as Sukuna guides your body to face him completely. Instinctively, you grab his marked wrist out of surprise. His second pair of eyes look down at the motion, the first still blazing on you. "You think you can touch me without permission after what you've done?"

"Sukuna," you whisper, staring straight into his eyes as your hand slips away. The lord always enjoyed that about you, how you stared directly into him instead of avoiding. Even now, your eyes are mesmorizing pools of uncertainty and alarm as you look at him. "What did you do?"

"Don't ask me that foolishness," he sneers. "You left behind my back, and you have lost the privilege of addressing me as anything but my proper title."

You falter slightly. "I... I could not stay."

"You do not have the power to make that decision."

"It's my decision to make. It's my life."

"You serve me. My life," Sukuna states firmly and you grimace, brows angling in discomfort as he reminds you of your place, of why you left. "I have clearly given you too much freedom if you believe this nonsense."

You feel your heart jolt with sadness, your face hardening as he holds you still. You should know your place by now, truly, but you don't appreciate how you are still treated as though you are an object of possession when your life has been turned to hell by those who are jealous of your favoritism. It's unfair, to love without the benefits, to be placed on a pedestal with no regard for the ramifications nor how it may feel for your privileges to be bestowed upon you without any promise of anything more.

It pains you to be in this position so hopelessly, and you wished to flee it but Sukuna of course refuses to allow such a thing to happen.

"What if I don't want to be your concubine anymore?" you say in a hushed voice. Sukuna's eyes flicker with subtle surprise, and for a moment you think you have caught him off guard.

"You are dramatic," he elects to say. "You are not telling me something, and you choose to take it out on me."

"If I'm just a concubine, then there's no need for me to tell you everything I think, is there?" you ask bitterly.

Sukuna's brows tilt downward slightly, and slowly he releases his grip of your face. You inhale sharply when he does, stumbling slightly and blinking harshly. "Is that what this is truly about?"

You clench your jaw. "What?"

"Wishing to be more than a concubine instead of not being one at all?" he proposes, and you feel yourself freeze. "And here I was made to believe it was solely because of the others."

"...W-What do you mean?"

"You never said anything about how the other women treated you."

You stare at him blankly as you let his comment sit for a moment, a far off look catching your eye. "There was nothing to tell."

"That is not true."

"There was nothing to tell you- you don't care about what happens with the concubines."

"You are not just another concubine."

You furrow your brows and part your lips. "I don't understand you. You want my forced subservience to you and you continue to entertain the others, but you don't think I'm like the rest of them?"

"If you believe that the way I treat you is how I treat the others, then you are much stupider than I previously believed."

"And if you cared to think of me as more than them, you would have noticed how the special treatment does more harm to me than good!"

"You can not complain because you chose to suffer in silence. All you had to do was tell me, and you still will not explain what has happened."

"Because I don't want to! I don't want to talk about it! It's humiliating, and I-" you suck in a breath of air. "I can't keep reliving being tortured for your carelessness-"

"I disposed of them."

You pause. "You- what? Disposed of what?"

"Of the women who harmed you. I assume that is what has been happening. They were jealous of you and pushed you out and treated you poorly."

You gape at him, utterly stunned. "You- you don't even know who-"

"Others confessed."

"...And you killed them?"

"They drove you away. It was a fit punishment."

You can no longer find the words, for you had not expected Sukuna to do such a thing for you. You believed his behavior around you to be temporary engagement, a fling. You believed that he would hardly care if you truly lived or died as long as you pleased him, and you certainly did not believe that he would go such lengths for your sake.

You are rattled by the mentions of their deaths, yes, but more so shocked by what Sukuna's disposal of them means for you... that he must truly value you above the others.

Sukuna raises a brow. "Are you truly surprised?"

"...Sukuna, all I've been to you is..." you trail off slowly as his gaze hypnotizes you, and you stutter over an exhale. "What am I doing with you? What am I to you? You have concubines still, and I'm not- I'm just-"

"You think too much." The salmon haired demon wraps a hand around your wrist while another finds your waist to tug you along with him. You trip into motion as you trail beside his heavy strides, watching him baffled.

"Wait, my lord, wait-" you urge, and he shockingly does. He eyes you out of the corners of his eyes and slows to a stop. "I truly don't understand. Why would you do that for me? What do you want me to be?"

Sukuna looks down at you wordlessly, taking in every crease of your face. He had been so angry, and now that he has found you, now that he sees you, now that he has you, his mind is at ease. He knows what humans label this feeling, and he is well assured that he is far beyond the useless ideal, but irritatingly he feels it there when he looks at you. He felt it at the thought of anyone treating you poorly, and he felt it the moment he lay eyes on you.

And you look terribly confused standing with his arm wrapped around you and your glossed lips pressed into a soft frown. The fire still burns behind you from a distance, and there is still something unsaid that Sukuna can tell you are hiding, but perhaps he does not want to know. Perhaps he needs to keep that barrier.

Even so, he wants you to remain his. You belong to him, with him as more. He doesn't know as what yet, but just knows that you are more, and that you should never dare to pull a stunt like the one you just did.

You jerk your head back gently when Sukuna turns into you and ducks down, meeting you as eye to eye as he possibly can from his height. His face hovers over yours and you watch him with a twisted, tormented, longing gaze, and you are so pathetic he craves it.

He presses into you without purpose, catching your lips in his and you jump against him, for he has only ever kissed you in intimate spaces and the feeling in such a setting is so foreign but your skin is tingling and your heart is thumping. Sukuna pushes in hard, keeping a set of lidded eyes open as yours slide closed and you allow him to take you within his harsh, swift kiss.

He pulls away fast, a soft smack of parting lips, and hovers over you afterward so closely. You can feel your face burning as your lashes flutter open and you look back up at him with shiny eyes. Sukuna catches the gaze. He catches what it means, and he sighs.

"We are returning now," he orders gruffly, standing up straight. "We will further discuss your arrangements at the estate, but as of today, you are no longer a concubine."

Your mind is still fuzzy from the kiss, therefore you do not completely comprehend his declaration. "I'm... not?"

"You will be under my direct surveillance at all times. Try to sneak away again, and I will be sure you are unable to walk for weeks. And do not think this will go unpunished."

#jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fandom #jjk fanfic #anime #jjk #jjk season 2 #jjk x you #sukuna smut #sukuna ryomen x reader #sukuna ryomen #ryomen sukuna #ryomen sukuna x you #sukuna x reader fluff

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taco-rambles · 3 months ago

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DC XDP prompt: Danny falls out of a portal literally into Batmans arms in a JL meeting.

Feel free to play with this. I probably will write more, but I'm STUCK and don't know how to write the JL or anyone else for that matter.

XXX

The Justice League meeting had gone very well. For once there were no major crisis from anyone attending, and all of the regular members of the league were in attendance. A few of the second row hero’s had begged off for one reason or another, but nothing that was a threat of any real kind.

Batman was wary, and on edge as the meeting wrapped up. It was never this simple, it just couldn’t be. There was always some kind of threat to keep an eye on, but the worst thing that had come up during the meeting were routine security updates.

No one else seemed to be on edge from the far too calm, routine meeting, and Bruce had just about convinced himself that it was really just one of those meetings where nothing outrageous would happen. It was ideal even…

Then the alarms went off, in the specific modulation that indicated a magical incursion.

Batman wasn’t the only one who’s hands went to weapons when the portal materialized above the meeting room table only a moment after the alarm went off. Swirling lazarus green had him ready for the fight even as the rest of the league went into defensive positions around the incursion.

“What…” Flash started to ask about a minute later when nothing had happened yet, the alarms still blaring.

That’s when something came flying out of the portal, at speed, back first.

Batman had a split second to decide to attack… or not. A split second to try to process the impressions and decide if this was an attack.

The portal closed as he cradled the small body that had crashed into his arms, the alarms silencing a moment later as the rest of the league tried to catch up, all of them wondering if this was some new threat.

Batman looked down at the child in his arms, a boy in his mid teens and small for his age, with white hair framing a frighteningly familiar looking face, gently pointed ears, and fangs in a mouth that gasped for breath against pain. The eyes were closed, twisted tight as the child clutched at his chest and belly, holding together severed flesh that leaked lazarus green blood from a clinical and too regular wound. Fingers tipped with small claws spasmed, tears coming from closed eyes.

“Batman?” Wonder Woman asked, Diana’s voice filled with concern as Bruce wrapped the child in his arms and stood up from where he had been knocked on his ass catching said child.

“Call down to medical. Severely wounded unknown,” he snapped, moving towards the door, only to stop as there was a flash of light in his arms, and the child suddenly gained a solid weight that was closer to human. The blood dripping from passed out hands was now brilliant red, fingertips blunt with chewed nails, the boy’s skin going from pale white to… a healthier tone.

Bruce consciously stopped cataloging his observations then, swiftly making his way to medical. Whatever this boy was, whether he intended to tug at Batman’s heart the way he was or not, was severely wounded and needed medical attention immediately.

He could process it all, and wonder why a child looking exactly like Damian Wayne had been thrown into his arms through a lazarus portal later.

XXXXX

An hour later, after a discreet call to his youngest just to be sure, Bruce watched the now sedated child in the medical cot, working on trying to face match the databases and find out if the child came from earth or not.

The searches primarily turned up Damian Wayne. Bruce knew for certain this child was not his son, but he was also running a DNA analysis because this Might be his son. It made a disheartening amount of sense for this boy to be another version of Damien, perhaps from another dimension, or some manner of clone, or perhaps Talia had simply hidden another child of his away… Bruce needed to narrow down the possibilities, to find the truth.

Of course, it was equally possible that this boy was some manner of mimic, taking on a form that would ensure his safety in unknown environment, a shape shifter intentionally injuring himself in order to infiltrate the Watchtower. Though that last theory didn’t make sense for a number of reasons. Most shape shifters would be secure enough in their abilities to simply try to mimic someone who already had access to the watch tower, to say nothing of the boy’s dramatic entrance.

Batman wasn’t thinking logically. Bruce couldn’t simply leave the boy here though. Not until he knew more, everything relevant by preference. The thought that this might be his son in any way was enough to keep him near, but he could already tell he was compromised.

He had already informed Diana and Clark, and both of them had agreed that he should stay nearby until they had the situation sorted out.

Bruce had been stuck in a circular though pattern for about fifteen minutes when a green form came into the room, J’onn looking at him calmly.

“Can you find anything out?” Batman asked without preamble, unable to bring himself to observe polite pleasantries when he was so unsettled.

“Nothing beyond surface thoughts. The boy’s mind is static and pain of the emotional kind,” J’onn stated after a moment.

Batman nodded, accepting the answer. J’onn’s abilities weren’t always the answer to everything, could indeed often be a crutch that led to the wrong answers. But they could also give the Justice League a starting point often enough.

“You should rest friend. It is unlikely that the boy will awaken soon…” J’onn cut himself off with a quiet look at the boy. “Or not. He’s coming around.”

Batman watched as the child’s eyes blinked open, drowsy expression turning to the two heros without much recognition. Bruce didn’t let himself react, kept himself in a calm pose even as his mind once more went into overdrive.

The boy had blue eyes, not green like Damian's.

#dp x dc #up for adoption #I'm going to write more #I have written more #Not sure how long it will last though #Bruce: is this my child?#The universes: Yes. Doesn't matter if he was before he is now #rest of the JL: o.O ... adoption on demand?#Bats you have a problem #First time making a dc x dp prompt #or story #or whatever

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xinganhao · 2 months ago

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cherry on top 🎩 seungcheol x reader.

picture this: you're taking home an attractive guy you met on your night out. you're both a little drunk but still very much willing to go at it— that is, until you try to handcuff him and you realize you've lost the key to said cuffs. and if the guy happens to be a mafia boss? well, that's just the cherry on top.

★ vignettes from accidentally kidnapping the mafia boss in svt x reverse tropes. additional content here.

📰 Excerpt from "The Ethics of Mafias: A Complex Web of Power, Community, and Morality," a think piece by Xu Minghao

... A particularly intriguing ethical question arises when examining the leadership within mafias. Allegations about a mafia boss allegedly named S.Coups, for example, highlight the dualities often associated with such figures.

On one hand, leaders are seen as ruthless individuals who consolidate power through coercion and fear. On the other, they are often viewed as protectors of their communities, imposing order in chaotic environments. This dual role complicates ethical judgments, as it forces us to ask whether the ends— stability, loyalty, and survival— justify the means of violence and corruption.

There are rumors that S.Coups' persona is carefully curated, blurring the line between myth and reality. He may leverage this mystique to maintain power, creating an image of both invulnerability and approachability. Some speculate that this duality is part of a larger strategy to keep adversaries guessing and to foster a sense of obligation among those who depend on him.

Darker allegations persist— stories of betrayal, silencing dissent, and the ruthless elimination of threats. These rumors reinforce his shadowy status, making it difficult to distinguish the man from the legend. Whether S.Coups is a protector, a manipulator, or a bit of both, his name continues to spark intrigue and speculation, embodying the complexities of power and morality in the underworld...

📰 Excerpt from "Gangnam cops nab suspect planning grave threat, assault", an article by Lee Jihoon

Seoul, South Korea — Authorities in Gangnam announced the voluntary surrender of a suspect allegedly involved in planning a grave threat and assault, averting what officials described as a potentially dangerous situation.

The suspect, whose identity remains undisclosed pending further investigation, turned themselves in at the Gangnam Police Station early Thursday morning. PCol. Wen Junhui, Chief of the Gangnam Police Public Information Office, addressed the media in a press briefing, expressing both relief and caution.

"The suspect's decision to surrender voluntarily demonstrates an important opportunity for dialogue and resolution," he stated. "However, we remain vigilant as we investigate the full extent of their intentions and any potential connections to larger networks."

While officials declined to comment on the specifics of the planned assault, they assured the public that there was no immediate danger at the time of the surrender. "We are grateful for the cooperation of all involved in ensuring this matter concluded without harm," PCol. Wen added. "This case serves as a reminder of the importance of community vigilance and proactive policing."

🧾 iPhone note of mafia soldier, Lee Chan

S.Coups order - Tealive Wintermelon, 75% sweetness, CHERRY POPPING BOBA PEARLS (DO NOT FORGET ‼️‼️‼️)

NTS: Explain what a meme is to S.Coups

Purchase 100 of Skeleteen Metal Handcuffs With Keys

NTS: Search up what 'I ate' means

NTS: Teach S.Coups how to take a 'proper' selfie (???????????????????) wtf

Tip off P.Col Wen

Warn HOSHI to stop gossiping ab S.Coups 'getting bitches'

› scroll through all my work ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ my masterlist | @xinganhao

#seungcheol x reader #scoups x reader #seungcheol imagines #scoups imagines #seungcheol smau #scoups smau #svt text imagines #svt x reader #seventeen x reader #svt smau #seventeen smau #── ᵎᵎ ✦ mine #[ realized i didn't have an independent au for cheol and immediately worked to amend that!!! ]#[ i debated strongly vs hhu soccer capt cheol or this ]#[ but the cherry popping boba... it called 2 me ]

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areislol · 1 month ago

Note

hsr!men with a reader who 'stresses' them out to see if they actually like reader that much or not >< HSUDHNS like testing them! kind of. during a post-confession stage where they both kind of know but haven't put any labels on it yet........

AHCK IM SORRY IF THIS IS ODDLY SPECIFIC LOL

pairings. jing yuan, dan heng, blade, welt, sampo, gepard, luocha, caelus, dr ratio, aventurine, boothill, gallagher, moze, jiaoqiu, sunday x gn! reader

warnings. just fluff

a/n. i love this idea sm omg!! this is so cute and adorable, thank you so much for popping in!

wc. 10.6k

synopsis. testing the hsr men to see if they really like you or not...

recommend listening to: blue - yung kai

caelus

✧ caelus is feeling a mix of patience and confusion. mostly confusion.

✧ you’d stress them out by acting overly distant or cryptic with your words. of course, this would be a bit too mean but.... you needed to know whether or not he truly liked you or not!!!

✧ now caelus always has this quiet confidence about him, a grounded presence that somehow keeps you both intrigued and comforted. you’ve been walking the line between friendship and something more for weeks now—soft smiles, lingering touches, and late-night conversations that stretch into the early morning. but neither of you has made the leap to define it, and the uncertainty starts to gnaw at you.

✧ so, you decide to test him. not out of malice, but out of curiosity—does he care as much as you think he does? or are you misreading everything?

✧ it starts small. you "accidentally" forget your jacket during a particularly chilly day on the xianzhou luofu. "it's fine," you say, feigning nonchalance as you rub your arms. "i’ll survive."

✧ caelus, who notices everything, doesn’t hesitate. without a word, he shrugs off his coat and drapes it over your shoulders. it’s warm and smells faintly like him—clean and earthy.

✧ "you’ll catch a cold," he says simply, his expression unreadable. but the way his fingers linger at your shoulder for a moment longer than necessary sends a shiver down your spine.

✧ okay, you think. that’s a point for him.

✧ but you don’t stop there. later, as the two of you work together to sort some scattered archives, you sigh dramatically. "i’m so bad at this," you say, even though you’ve already figured out the system. "caelus, can you help me? i think i’m doing it all wrong."

✧ he glances at you, eyebrows raised slightly. he knows you’re capable—you’ve proven it plenty of times.

✧ "really?" he asks, his tone soft but teasing. "you seem like you’ve got it handled."

✧ but he still moves to your side, explaining the process again with patience and care. you can’t help but notice how close he stands, the way his arm brushes against yours.

✧ another point, you mentally tally, biting back a smile.

✧ the final "test" happens that evening. the two of you are sitting on a bench overlooking the bustling streets below. you lean your head back, sighing loudly.

✧ "caelus," you start, your tone heavy with faux melancholy, "do you ever think... maybe we’re wasting our time? like, maybe this—whatever this is—isn’t worth it?"

✧ his head snaps toward you so fast you almost laugh. his usual calm demeanor falters for a moment, and there’s a flicker of something raw in his amber eyes.

✧ "what are you trying to say?" he asks, his voice lower than usual.

✧ suddenly, the air feels heavier. you weren’t expecting such a serious reaction, and it makes your chest tighten.

✧ "i mean..." you hesitate, suddenly feeling a little guilty for pushing him. "i don’t know. it just feels like maybe we’re stuck in this limbo, you know?"

✧ he stares at you for a moment, his gaze searching. then, he exhales softly, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. "if you think this isn’t worth it," he says, his voice steady but quiet, "then tell me. but don’t assume i feel the same."

✧ your heart stutters at his words.

✧ "you don’t?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper. he turns to look at you again, his expression soft but serious.

✧ "no," he says firmly. "you mean a lot to me. more than you realize. i’m just... waiting for you to figure out how much you mean to me too."

✧ and just like that, the test is over. you realize you didn’t need to test him at all—he’s always been steady, always been sure. it was you who needed the reassurance, and he gave it to you without hesitation.

✧ as the silence stretches between you, you feel the weight of his coat still draped over your shoulders. you finally let yourself smile, leaning closer to him.

✧ "okay," you murmur. "i get it now."

✧ he doesn’t say anything, but the small, satisfied smile that tugs at his lips says enough.

gepard

✧ poor gepard takes your “test” far too seriously.

✧ (his face falls immediately, and he starts overthinking everything he’s ever done. he’d even try to change his habits, stumbling through awkward attempts to “loosen up.” “i—i can be fun! watch this!” (proceeds to try something clumsy.))

✧ testing gepard’s feelings feels almost unfair. he’s so earnest, so genuine, that you almost feel bad for trying to push his limits. but a little part of you—it’s that gnawing insecurity, that need for reassurance—wants to see how much he’s willing to handle for you.

✧ it starts during a routine patrol around belobog. you walk beside him, pretending to be engrossed in your surroundings, but you’re really watching him out of the corner of your eye. his posture is as perfect as always, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword, eyes scanning for any sign of trouble.

✧ "gepard," you say suddenly, interrupting the calm. he turns to you immediately, his expression softening. "yes?"

✧ you fake a dramatic sigh. "do you ever think you work too hard? like... maybe you’re so busy being a model captain that you don’t have time for other things?"

✧ his brows furrow slightly, clearly not expecting this question. "what do you mean?"

✧ "i mean, what if someone in your life needed more of your attention? would you even notice?"

✧ he stops walking, turning to face you fully. there’s a flash of concern in his blue eyes, and you almost feel guilty for how well this is working.

✧ "if someone needed me," he says, his voice steady but laced with worry, "i’d do everything in my power to be there for them. are you... trying to tell me something?"

✧ you wave your hand dismissively, laughing lightly. "oh, no, just a hypothetical. don’t worry about it." he doesn’t look convinced, but he nods and resumes walking, though you notice he stays closer to your side after that.

✧ later, you decide to push a little harder. when the two of you are back at the overworld base, you feign exhaustion, slumping dramatically onto a nearby bench.

✧ "i’m so tired," you complain, rubbing your temples. "today was so stressful. i don’t think i can even move."

✧ before you can say anything else, gepard is already at your side. he crouches slightly, his hands hovering awkwardly as if he’s not sure whether he should offer to help you up or just sit beside you.

✧ "you should have said something earlier," he says, his voice full of concern. "if you’re overworked, you need to take a break. here, let me—"

✧ you cut him off with a teasing smile. "what are you going to do, carry me around belobog like some kind of knight in shining armor?" he freezes for a moment, his cheeks flushing pink. "i mean... if you needed me to, i would."

✧ you weren’t expecting such a sincere answer, and it throws you off balance. your heart flutters, but you’re determined to keep the act going.

✧ "you’re too sweet, gepard," you say with a grin. "but don’t worry, i’m fine. just testing you a little." his blush deepens, and he shifts nervously. "testing me?"

✧ "yeah," you admit, leaning back against the bench. "just wanted to see how far you’d go for me."

✧ he frowns, clearly conflicted. "you don’t need to test me," he says quietly. "if something’s bothering you, you can just tell me. i’d rather you be honest than try to figure things out on your own."

✧ his words hit you harder than you expected, and you suddenly feel a little guilty.

✧ "you’re right," you mumble, looking down at your hands. "sorry, i didn’t mean to make you worry."

✧ he sighs softly, then sits beside you, his shoulder brushing yours. "it’s okay," he says after a moment. "i just... care about you. a lot. and i want you to know that you never have to doubt it."

✧ you glance at him, his expression as open and honest as ever, and your heart aches in the best way.

✧ "thanks, gepard," you say softly.

✧ he smiles, and it’s so warm and genuine that you know you didn’t need to test him in the first place. he’s always been exactly who he says he is—steadfast, caring, and utterly devoted.

✧ “please, don’t do that again. my heart can’t take it. but... i do care about you more than anything.”

dr. ratio

✧ dr. ratio sees through your “stress test” almost immediately, being as perceptive as he is.

✧ testing dr. ratio feels like trying to rattle an unshakable pillar—he’s sharp, meticulous, and composed to the point where you’re almost certain he’ll see through you immediately. but your curiosity gets the better of you. you want to see if the normally calm and collected doctor could ever crack, even slightly, under your antics.

✧ you decide to start small, choosing to "stress" him out during one of his intense research sessions.

✧ "dr. ratio," you call out from across the lab, your tone light and teasing.

✧ he doesn’t look up from his holopad. "yes?"

✧ "can you explain this to me again? i swear i just don’t get it."

✧ you hold up a tablet displaying a simple analysis you’re perfectly capable of interpreting. it’s the third time you’ve asked him about something today, and you’re sure he’s starting to notice.

✧ he sighs, finally lifting his gaze to meet yours. "are you sure you’re not just overthinking it?"

✧ "maybe," you say, shrugging. "or maybe you’re just bad at explaining things."

✧ that earns you a sharp look, and for a split second, you think you’ve actually pushed too far. but then his lips twitch, a flicker of amusement breaking through his usual stoicism.

✧ "bad at explaining things?" he repeats, setting his holopad down. "are you testing my patience, or are you testing my intelligence?"

✧ "both," you reply with a cheeky grin. he chuckles softly, shaking his head. "if you wanted my attention, you could’ve just asked."

✧ despite his calm exterior, you notice the subtle way he shifts closer to you, his focus entirely on you now. you can’t help but feel a small thrill of triumph, though you know you’re playing with fire.

✧ later, you decide to up the stakes. while he’s meticulously organizing data, you lean against the desk, deliberately placing your hand over one of his charts.

✧ "do you ever think about taking a break?" you ask, tilting your head at him. "you work so much, it’s like you’re married to your lab."

✧ he arches an eyebrow, his gaze flicking to your hand covering his work. "and if i am? does that bother you?"

✧ "a little," you admit, your tone teasing. "what if you end up ignoring more important things?"

✧ he leans back in his chair, crossing his arms as he studies you. "and what would those ‘important things’ be?"

✧ his voice is calm, but there’s a glint in his eyes that makes you feel like you’ve walked right into his trap. "me, obviously," you say, trying to maintain your confidence.

✧ he hums thoughtfully, as if considering your words. then, without warning, he reaches out and gently flicks your forehead.

✧ "you’re not very subtle," he says, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

✧ "ouch," you say, rubbing your forehead with a pout. "was that necessary?"

✧ "completely," he replies smoothly. "if you’re going to test me, at least make it challenging."

✧ his words leave you flustered, and you quickly retreat from his desk, muttering something about needing fresh air. but later, when he finds you in the lounge, he sets a cup of tea in front of you without a word.

✧ "what’s this for?" you ask, looking up at him.

✧ "you seemed tense earlier," he says simply. "and since you’re so concerned about me ignoring important things, I thought I’d remind you that you’re one of them."

✧ your heart skips a beat at his casual declaration, and for once, you’re at a loss for words. he smirks at your reaction, clearly pleased with himself, before walking away, leaving you to process his unexpected yet reassuring gesture.

✧ turns out, dr. ratio isn’t so easy to test—but he makes it clear that he’s always paying attention.

✧ however, he sits you down for a serious talk afterward. “you don’t need to test me. i like you—that much should be obvious by now.”

aventurine

✧ aventurine takes your antics in stride but is clearly not one to tolerate nonsense for long.

✧ but in all seriousness it feels like you're trying to move a mountain. his steadfastness and confidence make it seem impossible to throw him off balance, but you’re determined to see how deep his patience and affection run. you tell yourself it’s just curiosity, but deep down, you crave the reassurance that this larger-than-life man truly feels the same way you do.

✧ it begins subtly, during one of his routine mineral inspections. he’s meticulously cataloging a haul of rare crystals when you decide to “help.”

✧ “aventurine, what’s this one called?” you ask, holding up a dazzling gem you already know the name of.

✧ he barely glances up, his deep voice calm and measured. “that’s a starshard geode. its structure is—”

✧ “wait, wait,” you interrupt, turning it over in your hands. “are you sure? it kinda looks like... a moonstone?”

✧ his head finally lifts, and he looks at you with a mixture of amusement and mild disbelief. “a moonstone? not even close. are you trying to challenge my expertise?”

✧ “maybe,” you tease, placing the gem back in the wrong compartment.

✧ he sighs, but there’s no frustration in his expression, only a patient shake of his head as he moves the gem back to its proper place. “you’re impossible,” he mutters, though there’s a small smile tugging at his lips.

✧ later, you decide to turn up the heat. as he’s polishing a massive chunk of raw celestium, you sit nearby, swinging your legs off the edge of the table.

✧ “aventurine,” you say sweetly.

✧ “mm?” he responds without looking up.

✧ “do you ever get tired of being around me?”

✧ that gets his attention. he pauses mid-polish, his golden eyes narrowing slightly as he turns to face you fully. “what kind of question is that?”

✧ you shrug, feigning nonchalance. “i mean, i can be annoying sometimes. don’t you ever just... wish for some peace and quiet?”

✧ he sets the celestium down with deliberate care and crosses his arms, his imposing figure suddenly feeling even larger.

✧ “you’re trying to get a reaction out of me,” he says plainly, his voice as steady as the ground beneath your feet.

✧ “what? me? no way,” you reply, trying to sound innocent.

✧ he steps closer, leaning down so his face is level with yours. his expression is serious, but there’s a flicker of amusement in his gaze.

✧ “if i wanted peace and quiet, i wouldn’t be here,” he says firmly. “do you really think i’d waste my time with someone i don’t care about?”

✧ his straightforwardness leaves you momentarily stunned, and he chuckles softly at your silence. “you don’t need to test me, you know,” he adds, his tone softening. “if you have doubts, just ask. i don’t like games, but i’ll always give you the truth.”

✧ you feel a pang of guilt for pushing him, but his reassurance warms your heart. “sorry,” you mumble, looking down. “i just wanted to be sure...”

✧ he reaches out, gently lifting your chin so you’re forced to meet his gaze.

✧ “then let me make it clear,” he says, his golden eyes unwavering. “you matter to me. and that’s not going to change, no matter how many gems you mislabel.”

✧ you laugh softly, the tension melting away as his words sink in. it was clear that his affection for you is as solid and enduring as the earth itself.

boothill

✧ boothill is rough around the edges but has a soft spot for you, so your little test catches him off guard.

✧ boothill's unmovable, stone-faced, and never shows signs of cracking, no matter what you throw his way. but that’s exactly why you’re so curious. you’ve seen his stoic side, his professionalism, and his dedication, but does that mean there’s any space for you in that heart of his? you decide to try and test the waters.

✧ it begins in a quiet moment, after a long mission. you’re both back at the base, sitting side by side on a bench. boothill is cleaning his weapon, his focus so intense that it feels like nothing in the world could distract him. you watch him for a moment, then decide to start.

✧ “boothill,” you call out softly.

✧ he doesn’t look up, but you see his fingers pause for a fraction of a second before he resumes cleaning his weapon.

✧ “yeah?”

✧ “do you ever wonder if you’re too... distant? i mean, you’re always so focused, so serious. don’t you ever need to relax a bit?”

✧ he glances at you now, his piercing gaze meeting yours for just a second. but he doesn’t answer right away, instead just continuing with his task.

✧ “relaxing isn’t exactly something i prioritize,” he replies with his usual calm. “there’s work to be done.”

✧ you scoff lightly, pushing your luck a little. “work, work, work. what about you, huh? when’s it your turn to... i don’t know, enjoy life? have some fun?”

✧ he looks at you then, and there’s something almost unreadable in his expression. his eyes soften just a fraction, and he lets out a small sigh.

✧ “if you think i don’t enjoy life, you’re wrong,” he says, voice low but surprisingly tender. “i just don’t need distractions.”

✧ you press a little more, feeling a mischievous spark inside you. “so, you’re saying you don’t need me to distract you?”

✧ boothill stops what he’s doing for a moment, and this time, he stares at you, really staring. for a split second, you think you’ve gone too far. but then he leans back, folding his arms across his chest, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

✧ “testing me, huh?” he says, his voice laced with dry amusement. “you’re a little more persistent than i expected.”

✧ you shrug nonchalantly, hoping your nonchalance hides the fact that your heart is pounding. “i just want to know if you care, boothill. i mean, you’re so... detached sometimes. how do i know it’s not all just professional to you?”

✧ his gaze softens, and for a brief moment, there’s a vulnerability in his eyes that catches you off guard. then, without warning, he reaches out and gently grabs your hand, pulling it into his lap.

✧ “care?” he murmurs, his thumb stroking the back of your hand in slow, deliberate movements. “i care more than you know.”

✧ your breath catches in your throat, and you feel the weight of his words settle over you like a blanket. the walls he’s built around himself are still there, but now, you realize that inside, there’s room for you.

✧ “you don’t need to test me for that,” he adds, his voice low and reassuring. “just... don’t expect me to show it the same way as everyone else.”

✧ you can feel the sincerity in his touch, in his gaze, and something inside you finally clicks. boothill’s love is subtle, understated, and a little rough around the edges, but it’s real.

✧ “i get it,” you whisper, squeezing his hand gently. “sorry for making you doubt me.”

✧ he chuckles quietly, a rare sound that makes your heart flutter. “you’re relentless. but that’s why i like you.”

✧ and there it is—he may not always wear his heart on his sleeve, but boothill’s love for you is unwavering, and that’s something you can rely on, even if it’s not always obvious.

gallagher

✧ gallagher is as easygoing as they come, but even he has limits.

✧ it starts innocently enough—just a playful attempt to poke at his carefully maintained composure. he’s in the middle of preparing a meal, the scent of fresh herbs and sizzling meat filling the air as he moves about the kitchen with his usual precision. you, however, are seated at the table, tapping your fingers lightly against the wood, watching him with a raised eyebrow.

✧ “gallagher,” you start, your voice casual but laced with curiosity.

✧ “hm?” he replies, glancing at you briefly before returning to his task.

✧ “how do you always manage to keep your cool? i mean, don’t you ever get tired of being so... well, perfect?”

✧ he doesn’t look up this time, but there’s a subtle shift in the air, like he’s sensing you’re trying to test him. his movements are smooth and measured, and he doesn’t skip a beat as he finishes plating the food.

✧ “there’s no point in losing composure over things that don’t matter,” he says matter-of-factly, as if it’s the simplest thing in the world. “chaos doesn’t make for a good meal.”

✧ you bite your lip, leaning back in your chair. “so, you’re saying everything has to be ‘in its place’ with you? even with people?”

✧ his hands freeze for just a moment, and you catch a flicker of something in his expression—maybe amusement, maybe something else. but it’s gone as quickly as it came. he finishes plating the meal with a soft sigh, setting the plate in front of you.

✧ “i’m not a machine, if that’s what you’re implying,” he says, finally meeting your gaze. “i’m not perfect. i just prefer things to be organized—helps with focus.”

✧ you raise an eyebrow, pushing a bit more. “oh? and does that mean you like it when people don’t mess with your focus? or is that just a ‘you’ thing?”

✧ gallagher pauses, studying you carefully. for a moment, the air is thick with tension, but then he smirks slightly, a glimmer of teasing in his eyes.

✧ “messing with my focus?” he repeats, his voice playful now. “is that what you’re doing? because, if i’m being honest, it’s working. you’ve got my attention now.”

✧ you blink, taken aback by his response. you expected him to brush it off, but instead, he steps closer, his presence a little more imposing now.

✧ “you know,” he continues, his tone lower, “you’re not as subtle as you think you are. but i’ll give you points for persistence.”

✧ you try to recover, but there’s something about the way he looks at you that leaves you speechless for a moment.

✧ “persistence?” you murmur, a little breathless.

✧ he nods, his smile softening just enough to show you that it’s genuine. “you’ve got a lot of questions, but i don’t need to play games with you. if you want answers, just ask. you don’t have to test me to find out if i’m interested.”

✧ his words hit you harder than you expected, and you realize that gallagher isn’t someone to hide his feelings. it’s not that he’s cold—he’s just direct. he’ll never say it in the way you might expect, but his actions speak louder than anything else.

✧ “i guess i’m just used to waiting for things to fall into place,” you admit, trying to play it cool.

✧ he leans in slightly, the faintest hint of humor in his eyes. “you don’t have to wait with me. i’m already here.”

✧ his tone is simple, but it carries a weight of meaning that makes your heart skip a beat. gallagher doesn’t do drama, but when he gives you his attention, it’s clear that he’s all in, no matter how much he might downplay it.

moze

✧ moze is a man of few words, and your antics genuinely confuse him. 😰😰

✧ he's calm, composed, and always so serious, which makes you determined to break through that cold, unreadable exterior. you’ve decided to test his limits, just to see if you can get a real reaction out of him.

✧ it starts on a typical day after a mission. you’re sitting across from him in the common room, watching as he pores over some data logs. your usual routine involves making things just a little more interesting for him, because let’s face it—moze needs to lighten up.

✧ “moze,” you say, a grin tugging at your lips.

✧ he doesn’t look up, but you can see the slight twitch of his eyebrow. “what is it?”

✧ you make a show of examining the ceiling, tapping your chin dramatically. “have you ever wondered if the world is actually upside down? like, maybe gravity's all wrong, and we’re just... stuck to the floor by pure luck?”

✧ moze pauses for a split second, probably wondering how you can turn a perfectly normal moment into this. then, without missing a beat, he glances at you, deadpan.

✧ “if the world was upside down, i assume you'd be the one stuck on the ceiling by pure luck,” he says flatly, already returning to his work.

✧ you burst into laughter, but moze doesn’t even flinch, just continues typing, his expression still as composed as ever. he’s like a stone statue, and it’s honestly a little impressive.

✧ “okay, okay,” you say, wiping a tear from your eye. “let’s try something different.” you lean forward, eyes sparkling with mischief. “do you ever get bored? you know, just sitting there all serious, pretending like you’re too busy to talk?”

✧ this time, he doesn’t even look up from his work. “bored? No. Are you trying to see how far you can push me before i snap?”

✧ you nod, trying not to smile too widely. “yep! How’s it going so far?”

✧ moze lets out a soft sigh, clearly unamused but still managing to hold his ground. “i’m doing great. You, on the other hand... are a handful.”

✧ “a handful? me?” you gasp dramatically, clutching your chest. “I’m hurt, moze. I’m just trying to keep things interesting around here!”

✧ his lips twitch ever so slightly, but it’s almost imperceptible. “you’re making it interesting... in the same way that throwing a tantrum in a library is interesting.”

✧ you tilt your head, pretending to consider this for a moment. “so, you’re saying you don’t like chaos?”

✧ “i like order,” he says, never looking away from the screen. “but if you’re asking if you can test my patience, then yes, you’re doing a very good job of that.”

✧ you giggle, thoroughly entertained by the way he’s handling you. "oh, come on, just admit it. you love the chaos! You secretly think it's hilarious when I mess with you."

✧ moze looks up at you for the first time in a while, his expression still all business but with the tiniest glimmer of amusement in his eyes. “if by hilarious, you mean mildly irritating, then yes.”

✧ “mildly?!” you gasp in faux offense. “I’m doing my best here, moze! how could you rate my efforts so low?”

✧ he leans back slightly in his chair, finally breaking his stoic routine. “honestly, i’m impressed you’re still going. most people would’ve given up by now.”

✧ “well, i'm not ‘most people,’ am I?” you reply with a cheeky smile.

✧ he smirks ever so slightly, though it’s mostly to himself. “no. clearly.”

✧ you can’t help but giggle, because while moze definitely isn’t as easily rattled as others, it’s clear he’s starting to find the humor in your antics.

✧ “admit it, moze,” you tease. “i’m the most fun you’ve had all week.”

✧ he raises an eyebrow, finally closing the data pad and turning his full attention to you. “if by ‘fun’ you mean ‘annoying distraction,’ then yes.”

✧ you stick your tongue out at him playfully. “you love me, admit it.”

✧ moze chuckles dryly, though it’s far from his usual serious tone. “you’re impossible. But for some reason, i don’t mind.”

✧ “there it is!” you exclaim, pointing dramatically. “the confession! finally!”

✧ he sighs, but there’s a hint of fondness in his eyes now. “don’t push your luck. i’m still not letting you off the hook for the chaos you’ve caused.”

✧ you grin, leaning back in your seat, satisfied. “you can’t get rid of me that easily, moze. get used to it.”

✧ “i’m already used to it,” he mutters under his breath, pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head.

jiaoqiu

✧ jiaoqiu is calm and composed, but your “test” slowly chips away at his patience.

✧ his idea of "testing" his patience feels almost like trying to mess with a finely tuned recipe—you know that if you push too far, something could spoil, but you can't resist seeing how he’ll react. the thing about jiaoqiu is that he’s blind, but that doesn’t stop him from being as sharp as a knife when it comes to his senses. especially when it comes to cooking—his true passion.

✧ you’ve noticed something about him, though. the more you “stress” him, the more attentive he gets, in his own way. it’s kind of like the game’s in his favor, and you’re slowly realizing he might be playing right along with you.

✧ one evening, you’re hanging out in the kitchen with jiaoqiu, and you’ve already decided to take your "testing" to the next level. as he prepares some of his signature dishes—no surprise, they're the most complex meals imaginable, even though he can't see a thing—you're doing your best to throw him off.

✧ “jiaoqiu, are you sure you don’t want me to help with that? it looks... dangerous,” you tease, noticing the steam rising from the pot in front of him.

✧ “dangerous?” he repeats, clearly amused but not thrown off. he moves deftly around the kitchen, the sound of his chopping board in the background. “my dear, cooking isn’t dangerous unless you’re trying to make something impossible.”

✧ you laugh softly, leaning against the counter. “so, you’re saying if I started pulling the wrong spices out, you wouldn’t even notice?”

✧ he pauses, then lets out a small chuckle of his own. “i might not see it, but i can certainly smell it. and don’t think i don’t know when you’re reaching for something you shouldn’t be.”

✧ you feign shock, dramatically holding your hands up as if caught in the act. “i would never! i have complete respect for your culinary expertise!”

✧ jiaoqiu hums, as if pondering your words, but then he continues his cooking with that quiet confidence he always carries. “you’d be more convincing if you didn’t have that mischievous glint in your eye.”

✧ your grin widens. it’s clear he’s onto you now, but you still try to push. “well, how would you know? You can't see, after all.”

✧ “true,” he replies calmly, “but i know the sounds of the kitchen well enough. if you were to drop something, or mess with the ingredients... i’d hear it. the rhythm of it all gives me a good idea of what’s happening.”

✧ you blink, stunned. you had been testing him, but jiaoqiu seems to always be one step ahead. how does he know? how can he be so confident?

✧ “and,” he adds, his voice still soft but with a hint of playfulness, “i know you, [your name].”

✧ you laugh, finally admitting defeat. “okay, okay! you got me. but seriously, how do you do it? how do you know where everything is?”

✧ he pauses his cooking and turns toward you, his voice warm yet full of humor. “let’s say i’ve had a lot of practice. and when you love something as much as i love cooking, you learn to rely on all your senses, not just sight. even when you can’t see, your other senses fill in the gaps.”

✧ you watch him work for a moment, and despite his lack of eyesight, he’s a master in the kitchen. it’s clear that his expertise comes from much more than just the act of cooking; it’s a connection to the ingredients, the textures, the sounds of each step.

✧ “okay, but what if i really messed something up? what if i did something totally wrong, just to mess with you?”

✧ he raises an eyebrow—something that’s only visible through his voice, but you get the feeling he’s smirking. “well, if you did that, i’d probably just end up fixing it before you even noticed. and then i’d make you do the dishes.”

✧ you groan, defeated but also thoroughly entertained. “you’re way too good at this.”

✧ “you’re the one testing me, not the other way around,” jiaoqiu reminds you, returning his focus to his cooking. but this time, you can hear the faint warmth in his tone, a reassurance that’s just for you. “but don’t worry, i’m not going to let you ruin dinner. even if you try to be a little mischievous.”

✧ there’s something comforting in the way he handles it all—the teasing, the games you play, even the mess-ups you deliberately throw his way. he may not be able to see you, but you know he can feel your presence, your energy, and you can’t help but feel safe in it. despite his teasing, despite the quiet confidence, jiaoqiu has a way of making everything feel just... right.

✧ “next time,” you say, grinning, “i’m going to really throw you off.”

✧ jiaoqiu just laughs softly, shaking his head as he finishes up his dish. “i’ll be waiting, [your name]. i’ll be waiting.”

✧ “but uh, next time, just ask me. there’s no need for this kind of... drama.”

sunday

✧ sunday is all sunshine and joy, but even he can get flustered when you start testing him.

✧ sunday is a halovian, with those distinct small fluffy wings nestled around his neck—adorably soft and always twitching with his every mood. you’ve learned that while he might seem all chill and sunny on the surface, he’s got his own quirks, and if you push him far enough, he’s more likely to play along than snap at you.

✧ one day, you’re lounging in the living area, and sunday’s sitting across from you, lazily flipping through a book. you can’t resist; it’s time for some mischief.

✧ “hey, sunday,” you call, trying to hide your grin.

✧ “yeah?” he replies, looking off guard. "have you ever been nervous before? like, nervous nervous?"

✧ “nervous? me? c’mon, i’m practically impossible to ruffle.” he gives you a lighthearted shrug, but you can see the playful challenge in his eyes. he’s used to keeping things breezy, but you’ve caught his attention now.

✧ you press on, deciding to have a little more fun with this. “oh really? well, let’s see... I’ve got a whole list of ways I could mess with you.”

✧ sunday doesn’t seem fazed at first, but you notice the way his fluffy wings twitch a little more with each word you say. it’s like a radar for his mood—you know he’s still calm, but there’s something in the way his feathers ruffle when he’s listening to you.

✧ “well, you’ll have to be a lot sneakier than that if you want to get under my skin,” he says, flashing you that signature grin of his, but now you can see a little spark of competitiveness in his eyes.

✧ you, of course, aren’t backing down. “let’s see if i can. hey, sunday, do you ever get tired of being all... perfect?” you ask, making air quotes around "perfect" with your hands.

✧ sunday’s wings flutter again, and this time, you catch the faintest shift in his posture. “perfect?” he asks, trying to play it off, but there’s a subtle twitch in the fluff near his neck. “you’re really gonna call me perfect? what’s wrong with that?”

✧ oh, he’s biting now. perfect. you lean in, voice teasing. “well, it just seems a little... too easy, don’t you think? i mean, you’re always so relaxed, always in control. how do you even do it?”

✧ you can see sunday’s lips twitch in amusement, and his wings give an exaggerated little flutter, like they’re bristling. he’s definitely aware now, but the best part is how he's trying to play it cool, still acting like he’s the one in control.

✧ “you really think i’ve got it all under control, huh?” he responds, a bit of a challenge creeping into his tone. “well, i guess i am pretty awesome. i mean, who could resist all this charm?” he gestures to himself dramatically, his wings fluffing out like he’s proud of the effect they have.

✧ you laugh, but don’t let up. “oh, i’m sure the charm works, but... do you ever get tired of being this smooth?” you tease, pretending to think it over. “i mean, surely you get a little flustered once in a while, right? just a little bit?”

✧ that’s when you see it—a small, barely perceptible shift. sunday’s wings twitch against his neck, brushing lightly as he tries to keep his expression neutral, but you catch it. there’s a softening in his demeanor, a slight heat creeping into his tone.

✧ “huh. so now i’m too smooth?” he teases, but it’s a little less confident now. “maybe you’re just getting good at finding my weak spots.”

✧ you smile, leaning back triumphantly. “maybe. or maybe you’re just too easy to read, sunday.”

✧ he narrows his eyes playfully, but you catch the small, almost imperceptible shift in his posture as his wings flutter just a little more. it's like they’re signaling his internal shift—he’s starting to realize you’re not just playing around.

✧ “okay, okay,” sunday says with a dramatic sigh, his wings now fully unfurled behind him like a soft, fluffy halo. he rubs the back of his neck and gives you a teasing look. “you wanna stress me out, huh? well, guess i’ll have to turn the tables a little.”

✧ with that, sunday leans closer, grinning mischievously. his wings brush against his neck again, this time on purpose, causing a soft, tickling sensation that makes you jump a little.

✧ “how’s this?” he asks, and now, you realize—he’s playing his own game. “i think we’re gonna see how you handle me.”

✧ sunday’s easygoing nature mixed with his unexpected turn in this little game makes it all the more fun. as he continues to toy with you, you can’t help but laugh at how well he’s handled your antics.

✧ “alright, alright,” you admit, finally letting the game end, “you win. i’ll stop testing your patience... for now.”

✧ his wings flutter triumphantly behind him as he gives you a mock salute, his grin still wide and playful. “you’re welcome to try again any time, [name]. but you should know—I don’t get flustered that easily. unless...” he pauses, giving you a teasing look, “...you do something even crazier next time.”

✧ you can’t help but smile back. sunday’s laid-back nature might be hard to crack, but it’s clear—he does enjoy the game, and in the end, he’s always up for a little bit of fun at your expense.

jing yuan

✧ jing yuan usually keeps his composure, but when you start “testing” his patience, he begins to crack ever so slightly.

✧ jing yuan is the epitome of calm, controlled elegance. he carries himself like a well-balanced scale, measured in his actions and words, always composed, always unfazed. but when you start testing him that balance teeters, just a little, though he’s careful to maintain his outward serenity.

✧ you know he's a man of patience, but every person has their breaking point—and you're curious to see how far you can push his.

✧ it all starts innocently enough, a bit of teasing and mild mischief on your part. you might "accidentally" misplace his paperwork, or maybe ask him endless trivial questions when you know he’s buried in his work. you’re not being cruel, of course—just playful, testing the waters to see if he’ll falter.

✧ he humors you at first, a chuckle escaping his lips when you ask something particularly silly. “what is it, my dear?” he asks, a gentle smile tugging at his lips, his golden eyes never leaving his work. “another question for me?”

✧ but as the questions come one after another, you start to notice a shift. his pen slows, and for a moment, his fingers still. he leans back in his chair, gaze lifting to meet yours.

“you’re playing a dangerous game, my dear,” he says, his voice low, but laced with amusement. “are you testing me to see if i’ll lose interest? because i can assure you, i won’t.”

✧ there’s a sharpness to his tone now, the calm facade slipping just slightly. it's subtle, but you catch it—a flicker of something deeper behind his eyes. his gaze darkens with an unreadable emotion, and for the first time, you wonder if you've pushed him too far.

✧ but you’re not one to back down easily, so you keep going, shifting the game into a new gear. you become a little more persistent, trying to get under his skin without being too obvious. you ask more ridiculous questions, throw in more distractions, all in the name of seeing how he reacts. surely, a man like jing yuan, so steady and composed, would get annoyed eventually, right?

✧ you watch him for a long moment, his gaze steady and unwavering. His fingers tap lightly on the edge of the desk, his lips curling into a knowing smile.

✧ "is that what you're after?" he asks, his voice softer, but with a certain challenge in it. "you wish to see how far i'll bend? to see if i can be swayed by such... antics?"

✧ your breath catches in your throat, and you wonder if you’ve finally crossed the line. but instead of growing irritated, jing yuan does something entirely unexpected. he sets his pen down with a deliberate motion and stands up, walking around to your side of the desk. his presence looms over you in the most comforting, yet commanding way.

✧ before you can even react, he reaches for your hand, his touch warm and steady. “i can’t help but wonder…” he begins, his voice dipping into something more intimate, more affectionate than you were prepared for. “did you think you could test me without consequences?”

✧ you blink up at him, the playful tension suddenly replaced by a sense of vulnerability. there’s something in his eyes now, a deep knowing.

✧ without waiting for an answer, he leans down, his lips brushing lightly against your ear. “you’re not the only one who can play games, [name],” he murmurs, his warm breath sending a shiver down your spine.

✧ you’re thrown off balance. the tables have turned, and now it’s you who’s feeling slightly flustered. where you were once testing him, now he’s testing you. he’s suddenly more attentive, more affectionate, drawing you in with every word, every touch.

✧ he chuckles softly when he sees your reaction, his golden eyes glinting with amusement. “you didn’t think i’d let you have all the fun, did you?” he teases. “i must admit, i’m rather enjoying this.”

✧ you open your mouth to respond, but all you manage is a soft laugh, caught between trying to keep your composure and wanting to give in to the sudden wave of warmth he’s throwing your way.

✧ “alright, jing yuan,” you say, trying to maintain your cool, but failing miserably. “i’ll admit defeat... for now.”

✧ his smile widens, a gentle but confident grin. “defeat? no, my dear. this isn’t about defeat. this is about knowing where we stand. and now that i’ve shown you, i expect no more games.”

✧ his words hang in the air like a promise, and you realize he’s not just testing you—he’s reassuring you, in his own way. with him, you never had to worry about being lost in his affection, because it’s clear: he’s always there, steady as ever.

✧ and just like that, the game you started has ended—only now, it’s more than you ever expected.

dan heng

✧ dan heng is the embodiment of calm and collected. his reserved nature and stoic expression almost never crack, even under the most trying of circumstances. it takes a lot to throw him off balance, which is why you’ve made it your mission to see if you can break that calm demeanor of his—just a little.

✧ at first, you start small. maybe you ask him to help you with something you’re perfectly capable of doing yourself, like reaching for a book you’re clearly just a bit too lazy to grab. you catch him off guard, but as expected, he’s kind enough to help without comment.

✧ “thank you, dan heng,” you say with an exaggerated sigh of relief.

✧ he gives you a short, quiet nod, his expression unchanged. “it’s no trouble,” he mutters, though there’s a faint suspicion in his voice.

✧ you smile innocently, but it’s not lost on you how quickly he’s growing aware of your game. so, you keep at it, asking for more and more “help” with things you’re fully capable of doing on your own. every time he obliges, you see his eyes narrow ever so slightly, and you can almost feel the gears turning in his head as he processes what's going on.

✧ “dan heng,” you ask one day, leaning into the playful tension between you two, “could you pass me the salt?” the shaker’s right in front of you, of course.

✧ there’s a long pause. his gaze flicks over to the salt shaker, then back to you, his brow furrowing just the tiniest bit. “you’re not really that helpless, are you?” he asks, his voice quiet but sharp.

✧ you feign surprise. “i’m not? you sure?”

✧ he doesn’t respond right away, his fingers tapping lightly on the surface of the table. you can practically see the wheels turning behind his eyes.

✧ “i know you’re not,” he says finally, voice even but tinged with a little irritation now. “so, what are you trying to prove?”

✧ you chuckle softly, realizing you’ve definitely gotten under his skin now. but it’s more out of curiosity than malice—you want to see how far you can go before he snaps, how long he’ll let you test him before he turns the tables.

✧ “oh, nothing,” you say innocently. “just wanted to see if you’d do it without asking questions.”

✧ dan heng’s eyes narrow, and for the first time in this little game, he seems to truly study you, as if trying to gauge your intentions.

✧ “you’re not as subtle as you think,” he finally says, his tone firm but not unkind. “you’re trying to get a reaction out of me, aren’t you?”

✧ you grin, leaning back with a satisfied look. “maybe... what’s the harm?”

✧ dan heng stands up from his seat, a deep sigh escaping his lips as he slowly gathers his things. you know you’ve pushed him a little, but you’re unsure if he’s genuinely upset or just playing along.

✧ “fine,” he mutters. “you want a reaction? here it is.”

✧ you blink as he steps closer, his usual reserved demeanor slipping as he looks down at you with a slight, almost imperceptible frown. “if i didn’t care about you, i wouldn’t even be here, helping you with these ridiculous requests. so, stop trying to push my patience.”

✧ you freeze for a moment, surprised at how direct and blunt he’s being. there’s no anger in his words—just a quiet frustration, the kind that comes from realizing how much you’ve been testing him.

✧ he lets out a short laugh, shaking his head as if he can’t quite believe what he’s dealing with. “honestly, i’m not sure if you’re trying to get me to lose my patience or just see how far you can push me.”

✧ you smile sheepishly, knowing you’ve been a little relentless with your “tests.” “i guess a bit of both,” you admit, but there’s a softness in your voice now. “i just wanted to see if you’d care enough to call me out on it.”

✧ dan heng sighs deeply, but now there’s a warmth to his expression that wasn’t there before. he steps closer and places a hand gently on your shoulder, the touch more tender than you expected. “i care enough to call you out, even if it means putting up with your nonsense.”

✧ it’s quiet for a moment, but you can feel the sincerity in his words. you’ve definitely ruffled his calm, but in a way that shows just how much he’s paying attention, how much he truly cares for you.

✧ you laugh lightly, not expecting him to be so honest about it, but secretly glad to know you’ve gotten through to him. “i’ll try not to test you so much, okay?”

✧ dan heng shakes his head, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “i’ll believe it when i see it.”

welt yang

✧ welt, being the mature and experienced gentleman he is, notices your little “test” immediately.

✧ the man is used to dealing with delicate matters, whether in his long history of research, his time as a historian, or the countless responsibilities that come with leading in times of crisis. so, when you start testing his patience, you know it’s going to take a lot more than a small inconvenience to shake him. that being said, you enjoy challenging him, just a little, to see how far you can push him.

✧ you start off small, of course. asking him the most trivial questions when he’s in the middle of reading one of his ancient books. “hey, welt,” you say sweetly, “do you think this book is boring?” the book’s not even in your hands, and he knows that you’re probably more interested in him than in the actual content of the text.

✧ at first, he doesn’t mind. he chuckles softly and lowers the book, humoring you with a small smile. “if i’m being honest, i would say it depends on your taste in reading. but you do know i can’t really afford distractions right now, right?”

✧ you smile, but this isn’t nearly enough to throw him off. you push again, dropping little hints like the fact that he’s been at his desk for hours on end and could probably use a break. you make a comment about how he’s always so serious, so focused, and maybe you should help him lighten up.

✧ “you know,” you tease, “you work too hard. you should take a break. come on, just for a minute?”

✧ welt sets the book down and looks at you, raising an eyebrow. “i’m not sure if i would call it ‘work’ if i’m doing something i enjoy, but i do appreciate the concern. perhaps you have something else in mind to keep me occupied?”

✧ his tone is light, playful even, but there’s something in his eyes that suggests he’s well aware of your intentions. he’s not the type to get easily upset, but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t picked up on your little game.

✧ “you really know how to throw me off track, don’t you?” he says with a smile, clearly amused by your antics. “is this your way of seeing how far i’ll go before i lose my cool?”

✧ you grin, not backing down. “maybe. you seem so calm all the time. i wanted to know if i could make you flinch, just a little.”

✧ welt lets out a soft laugh, leaning back in his chair. “you’re testing me now, aren’t you? i suppose i should’ve expected as much from you.”

✧ you notice his hands move to the side of his glasses, adjusting them ever so slightly, and that’s when you realize: he’s fully aware of what’s going on.

✧ “you know, it’s cute that you think i’m impervious to distractions,” he continues, clearly enjoying your playful attempts. “but perhaps you underestimate how well i’ve learned to focus in the midst of chaos.”

✧ you can’t help but laugh at that, realizing that no matter how hard you try, you’re not going to make him flinch. he’s too smooth, too used to handling these kinds of things.

✧ “maybe i should stop testing you,” you say, a bit sheepishly. “you’re just too good at staying calm.”

✧ welt smiles knowingly. “i’ve had plenty of practice, but if you really want to test me further, i’m sure there are other ways to do so.” he leans forward, raising an eyebrow, his voice turning just a bit teasing. “but i’m not so easily caught off guard, dear. if you want to see me lose my composure, you’ll have to be a little more creative.”

✧ you blink in surprise at how easily he flipped the situation on its head, and then it dawns on you: you’ve just been outplayed.

✧ he notices the realization in your expression and gives you an amused glance. “now, if you’re really interested, i can give you some advice on how to keep your distractions less obvious in the future. but don’t expect me to fall for it again so easily.”

✧ you can’t help but laugh. “alright, alright, you win this round.”

✧ welt chuckles softly, picking up his book again. “it’s not about winning or losing, but about knowing how to handle what comes your way. and if you ever need a distraction, you know where to find me.”

✧ “but do you know, if you want reassurance, you only need to ask. i don’t play games when it comes to my feelings for you.” my man does NOT play when it comes to you!! 🙅‍♀️ 🙅‍♀️

blade

✧ he is stoic, so basically this feels like poking a sleeping tiger. you’d try to stress him out by being overly affectionate in public or daringly teasing him in front of the stellaron hunters.

✧ blade is a man of few words, and even fewer smiles. so when you start poking at him, trying to get a rise out of him, you know you’re walking a fine line. but that’s exactly what you want, isn’t it? to see just how much you can push before he cracks.

✧ it starts with small, playful jabs. teasing him about his stoic nature, of course. you know he’s not the type to express himself easily, but that doesn’t stop you from trying to bring out something more from him.

✧ “blade, do you ever smile? i think i’d faint if i saw it.”

✧ you say it with a mischievous grin, watching for any sign of a reaction. his first response is the usual – a glare that could melt steel. but there’s something else in his eyes, a flicker of something that tells you he’s holding back a smirk. deep down, you know he secretly enjoys your antics.

✧ “you’re really trying to get me to laugh, aren’t you?” he says, his voice low and steady, though it has a hint of something playful beneath it.

✧ you push further, though, not willing to let up so easily. “come on, blade. you can’t possibly be that serious all the time. it’s like you’re stuck in permanent brooding mode.”

✧ and that’s when the situation takes a turn. before you can even process it, he grabs your wrist with surprising speed, pulling you close, his voice dropping even lower, sending a shiver down your spine.

✧ “you think i’d waste my time with someone i didn’t care about? don’t test me.”

✧ his words come with an intensity that you didn’t expect, his presence so overpowering that it almost takes the air out of your lungs. you blink, momentarily taken aback, but you don’t back down. the playful teasing lingers in the air, even though you can tell that you’ve crossed the line.

✧ but blade, in his own way, seems to realize that. after a moment, he releases his grip on your wrist, letting out a quiet sigh. the edge of his tone softens, just slightly.

✧ “you’re important to me,” he mutters, his voice low but genuine. “stop doubting that.”

✧ there’s no grand declaration, no flowery words. just the blunt honesty of a man who’s difficult to read, yet in his own way, he’s showing you something far deeper than what words could ever convey.

✧ you watch him for a moment, realizing that, despite all his coldness, there’s a warmth buried deep beneath the surface – one that he’s not so quick to reveal, but it’s there, unmistakable in its own quiet way.

✧ “i guess i’ll just have to take your word for it, huh?” you say with a smirk, trying to lighten the mood once more.

✧ blade doesn’t respond with a smile, but the slightest hint of amusement flickers in his eyes. and maybe, just maybe, that’s his version of a win.

sampo koski

✧ sampo loves games, so he immediately plays along with your little “test.”

✧ sampo has always been the life of the party, the one with a smile on his face and a witty comeback ready for anything. so when you start throwing him off with your uncharacteristic seriousness, it’s like throwing a wrench in his well-oiled machine of flirtations.

✧ you don’t laugh at his jokes, you don’t play along with his flirtations, and you certainly don’t give him the usual banter he’s used to. instead, you respond with an almost eerie level of calm.

✧ “oh? no witty comeback today? you’re scaring me, sweetheart,” he teases, leaning back, watching you with an exaggerated frown as though he’s genuinely concerned. you can see the twinkle in his eyes, but he’s trying to hold it together.

✧ at first, you don’t budge. you just stare at him, deadpan, giving nothing away.

✧ he blinks a few times, clearly thrown off. then, he lets out a dramatic sigh. “oh no, what’s happening? is this… a breakup? did i mess up somehow? what did i do wrong? i can change! i swear, i’ll stop with the flirtations—i’ll even stop trying to steal your snacks!" he says, eyes widening as though he's on the verge of a crisis.

✧ the way he overacts is so ridiculous that it’s hard to keep a straight face. but you’re committed, your expression still unreadable as you let him stew in the nonsense he’s coming up with.

✧ when you finally can’t hold it in anymore and let out a soft laugh, his entire demeanor shifts. in an instant, his playful grin is back, and he pulls you into a sudden hug.

✧ “sweetheart, if i didn’t like you, i wouldn’t stick around this long. but nice try!” he says between chuckles, his voice playful and warm.

✧ you can’t help but smile at his antics. he may act like he’s been genuinely stressed out, but deep down, you know he’s been enjoying every minute of your teasing.

✧ he pulls back just enough to look at you, eyes sparkling mischievously. “you really had me going there for a second. but hey, now i know you care enough to test me. i’ll take it as a compliment.”

✧ you shake your head, still amused by his dramatic performance. “don’t ever change, sampo.”

✧ he winks at you, his usual grin returning in full force. “don’t worry, sweetheart, i’m never going to change… unless it’s to make you laugh more.”

luocha

✧ luocha is patient and gentle, but even he has his limits. you’d try to test him by asking endless hypothetical questions about relationships or intentionally making vague statements about your feelings.

✧ when you start throwing questions his way, testing his patience with doubts about his feelings, you know he’ll handle it with the same serenity he always exudes. but the longer it goes on, the more you start to wonder if you’re pushing him too far.

✧ “what if someone better came along?” you ask casually, watching his expression for a hint of reaction. it’s a harmless question in your mind, but you can tell he takes it seriously.

✧ he pauses, his hand resting gently on his chin, thinking it through before answering with his usual calmness. “if someone better came along, then you’d deserve to find happiness with them, just as I would wish for your happiness no matter the circumstances.”

✧ his response isn’t what you expected. it’s thoughtful, selfless, and it makes you question your own intentions. but you can’t help yourself – you press on, seeking reassurance in the form of his steady words.

✧ “but what if you don’t feel the same as you did before? what if you find someone who catches your eye more than me?”

✧ luocha’s gaze softens as he listens to your words. there’s no anger in his eyes, no irritation. only concern, as if he’s trying to understand why you would even think such a thing. his voice remains calm, but now there’s a slight edge to it, as if the question weighs on him more than you realize.

✧ “are you trying to test me?” he asks, tilting his head slightly, his brow furrowing just enough to show he’s genuinely curious. “i hope you know i mean every word i’ve said to you. my feelings are not something i take lightly.”

✧ you’re taken aback, your mind racing as you realize just how much this is affecting him. you weren’t trying to hurt him; you just wanted to see if he truly cared. but now, the weight of your questions hangs heavy in the air.

✧ seeing the uncertainty in your eyes, he lets out a small, almost imperceptible sigh. he reaches out, taking your hand in his, offering you a reassuring smile that radiates warmth.

✧ “there’s no need for doubt,” he says softly, his voice gentle yet firm. “my feelings for you are genuine, and they won’t change based on fleeting insecurities. you are the only one i see, the only one i care for.”

✧ his words carry a weight that resonates deep within you, his sincerity undeniable. you feel a warmth spread through your chest, a sense of relief washing over you.

✧ “i’m sorry,” you say, a little embarrassed by how far you’ve pushed him. “i didn’t mean to make you doubt how much i care.”

✧ luocha chuckles softly, his thumb brushing gently over the back of your hand. “it’s alright,” he says, his voice filled with understanding. “i know you’re just seeking reassurance. but i hope this is enough to put your mind at ease.”

✧ you nod, grateful for his patience and the depth of his affection. his unwavering calmness and the way he handles your doubts only make you feel even more certain that, with him, you never need to worry about someone else coming along.

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