#and everyone knows you’re human filth

[jewishbarbies]

love that swifties have no problem being ableist freaks as long as queen capitalism is involved. let’s not rally around the family of the girl that just died (a fucking swiftie, mind you), no no. let’s rally around taylor and make sure she knows swifties love her with a fucking #weloveyoutaylor hashtag on every tweet about the tragedy of A HUMAN BEING DYING. but yes, let’s care more about her handwriting and how SHE feels while a family is grieving and not give a single flying fuck as long as taylor needs us. because that’s the mature thing to do, obviously.

[fushipurro]

The Nature of Depravity

Masterlist

☆ Synopsis: You were an angel, a saint, one of the most profound icons worshipped by mortal kind. There wasn’t a soul in paradise or the fire below that didn’t know your name. It seemed that everywhere you went, you left behind a trail of all things good.

You were one of the best heaven had to offer ─ up until the day you fell from grace and into the hands of a sinner.

☆ Content: 18+ MDNI, AU - fantasy, religious imagery, mentions of blood/violence, implied murder, biting, creampie, scratching, p in v, foreplay, angst, everyone's bad at feelings, true form sukuna, tonguefucking, loss of virginity

☆ Word Count: 10.7k

It wasn’t like one day you woke up and decided to rebel against the heavenly utopia.Rather, it happened like any other day while you were making your rounds to several war-torn villages recently burnt to ash. You sought to aid in the recovery of those lucky to survive, but unbeknownst to you at the time, a group of demons were awaiting your arrival.

With one precise throw, they managed to impale one of your wings with iron weaponry, effectively knocking you from the sky. From there, everything that followed seemed to happen in the blink of an eye, and the next thing you knew, you found yourself here ─ bound in chains, brought before the King of Demons.

Ryomen Sukuna.

Otherwise known as the Fallen, or the Disgraced One, Sukuna was once a proud angel of similar status to your own. It’s unknown how his departure from Heaven came to be. Some claim that he was the bastard child of an unholy couple, while others claim he was never an angel to begin with ─ merely a forked-tongue creature living under the guise of your virtuous ways. At the end of the day, he shed his wings and took over the hellfire realm with unyielding strength.

You stand before him, trapped to an iron pole that burns you to the touch. The metal rod from earlier still marring your wing ─ no doubt broken as it lays flat at your side, oozing with golden, angelic blood.

“What do we have here?” The voice of king stretches across the room, inciting the demons that brought you here to bow in his presence. Something you already have no choice but to do. The intense pain and your lack of energy from the earlier fight affects you greatly now, killing any hope of refusal.

“My lord, we’ve capture this angel we now offer to you.”

“That much is obvious,” Sukuna responds coldly, rolling his eyes. He presses a bored fist to temple. “So what? You’ve come here seeking something from me, haven’t you? Go on, spit it out.”

The demon at your side sputters with nerves before another takes over, “This is no ordinary angel we’ve brought you,” he says, stating your name to the demon king, “We desire your protection, and means for our survival. Our families are poor and struggling to keep those foul humans out of our land.”

There’s a beat of silence, and then the sound of a cruel laughter meant to mock the demons uttering such filth.

“My lord?”

“Quiet,” he commands with no such amusement from moments ago. “If you’re too weak to fight then you deserve to lay down and die. Your kind is meant to be chewed up by the strong.”

“But Sir–“

A flick of his finger, and blood sprays out in all directions, some of its droplets even landing across your face. In the next second, that demon’s head rolls into view. The others behind you gasp in fear, a few even daring to step back only to meet the same demise.

“You’d do well to remember that everything you have belongs to me. Your homes, your land, your lives.” He laughs again. “All of it belongs to your one true king. Now get out of my sight before I change my mind on letting the rest of you live.”

The demons leave in a hurry, and all that remains is both you and the devil.

Sukuna approaches you slowly, like a predator cornering their prey, uncaring that he has to cross a puddle of black demon blood to reach you. With two fingers, he lifts you by your chin, allowing you to drink in the sight of someone who used to be just like you.

Black ink binds to his skin, visible across the expanse of his body from what you can make out. With four arms, and a set of eyes growing from the side of his face, he’s the textbook definition of a demon by human standards. But as an angel, well… you’ve seen more unique creations in the first sphere of your celestial hierarchy. Different doesn’t always have to mean repulsive.

“Such a pathetic sight,” he murmurs, moving your head as though you’re a fruit being examined for its quality. “A broken, pitiful excuse of an angel in my domain.” A grin appears on his face, ripe with his malevolent nature. “How the so-called mighty continue to fall.”

You should bite back. You should be saying something, anything to defend heaven from the one who for whatever reason forsake it, leaving it all behind to become the enemy of virtue. Yet, you’re unable to come up with anything like all your peers would.

Sukuna appears to be studying your expression carefully, finding himself perplexed by your lack of animosity.

“You’re not afraid?” he asks with a hint of curiosity, though his face remains neutral.

“Should I be?” you respond, and without much thought or consideration for the position you’re in. He could do whatever he wants with you, and it would as easy as it is for him to take a life.

He laughs again, letting it echo throughout the throne room.

“Most creatures tremble in fear before me. You even got to see what happens to those who annoy me.” He pauses, revealing sharpened fangs as his grows wide. “And yet, you ask me if you should be afraid. Well, I think the answer is quite obvious, don’t you agree?”

“If it is my fate to die by your hands, then so be it.” As you tell him those words, you feel your strength slipping. The weight of your head sinking deeper into his touch. Even your sight is starting to cloud with black spots.

“Fate? Hah! Don’t make me laugh.” He leans down, mere inches from your face. “You’re just like the rest of your kin, always preaching the gospel of a false king. Your paradise is nothing but a garden of lies.”

You can’t help but wonder from Sukuna’s words what happened to birth such hatred for your shared homeland.

“Being scared would do me no good. In my current state, I pose no threat to you,” you point out. “What reason do I have to fight you?”

He scoffs, “There’s a war going on, and you and I are on opposite sides.”

“That’s never mattered to me.”

He clicks his tongue, swapping the fingers under your jaw with his whole hand. His nails dig into your cheeks, but you can hardly feel it. You can hardly feel anything but coldness.

“I understand if it’s my time; do as you will with me.”

“You speak as if your life holds no value.��� He seems to be evaluating you again, tracing his lower set of eyes across your broken wing with scrutiny in his gaze. The other two remain locked with yours. “I wonder if your dear paradise would even allow your return… you may as well be one of the fallen now.”

His words barely register before everything goes black and you succumb to the darkness swelling around your form. You’ve held the hands of many humans on their way into paradise, and many speak of death’s embrace being so warm and inviting.

But all you feel is cold.

So, so cold.

“Sleep well, angel. I’ll be seeing you again soon enough.”

Slowly but surely, everything starts falling back into place. Reality returning to your lifeless form as you awaken from your slumber.

With a tired groan, you open your eyes to an unfamiliar room. Nothing about where you are screams paradise, and in fact, it’s more of the opposite. Currently, you lay atop a large bed, surrounded by red silk sheets and pillows. The room itself is especially decorated with lavish details and portraits bordered with gold, its imagery ranging from acts of debauchery to icons painted with blood. Something about those specific paintings raises an unsettling feeling in the back of your mind.

“You’re awake,” a voice calls from the doorway. The richness of his voice makes it obvious without turning your head that you’re not actually dead, but still within Sukuna’s castle of sin. “How are you feeling?” he asks, though his demeanor remains calm, devoid of any underlying concern or true empathy.

You try and sit up, but quickly fall back from the pain, almost forgetting the trauma you had been through. You only realize now the number of bandages wrapping your body, the majority contorting your wing into a makeshift sling.

“You saved me?” you ask with disbelief in your tone. You thought for sure your time was up, yet your heart still beats, quicker now in Sukuna’s presence. “Why?”

“Yes, I saved you. And as for why…” He crosses his arm, maintaining his cold stare. “Let’s just say I have my reasons.” A subtle smirk appears.

“Whatever the case may be, thank you, for not letting me die.”

“Don’t mistake my kindness for charity,” he says bluntly. “In due time, you’ll be fulfilling your usage to me. That is the only reason you’re still alive.”

You raise an eyebrow at his words. “What use would you have of me?”

That devilish grin makes a reappearance on his face as he strides closer to the bed, towering over you. “You’ll find out soon enough. For now, you need only to focus on your recovery.”

So much for getting any answers or having any chance of leaving.

“Charity or not ─ I still thank you,” you say back to him, smiling all the while despite the fact you’re now akin to a bird confined in a gilded cage. Better than an iron cell, but not the same as the freedom that calls to you. At the end of the day, however, and for whatever reason he has, he still chose to help you.

“Don’t thank me yet,” he chuckles, eyes darkening. “It’s far too early for that.”

Sukuna’s amusement fades as the doors to your room open, revealing a white-haired servant holding a tray of sorts.

“My lord,” they greet, bowing to the King of Demons.

“Good, you’re here, Uraume. See to her recovery now that’s awake. I have work that needs to be done,” he announces, stepping out of the way for the one called Uraume to approach. Sukuna eyes fixate on you again as their servant helps you sit up. “I’ll warn you now, angel. You’re in my domain.” His tone is stern, full of unspoken promise. “If you so much as try to escape, I’ll clip both of your wings and leave you to rot this time around.”

You can’t help but laugh at the irony in his words. “Don’t worry, I think we both know I’m in no condition to leave. Nor do I plan on trying either.”

Despite the humor of it, one look at your wing is enough to question what life will be like for you from now on. There’s a question that when you recover, will you ever be able to fly again? You can’t help but feel off about the dull coloring of your wings now.

All angels radiate a celestial glow across the span of their perfectly white wings ─ like light scattered through a prism in every hair and fiber. That glow is seemingly gone from yours, and you think you spot some gray forming at the base. To be absent of that symbol of your connection, one can only assume it to be a sign of what’s to come.

“See that you don’t,” he remarks, turning away to let Uraume work.

Uraume makes careful work of changing out your bandages. They work quick and with deft fingers, trying their best not to aggravate your wing further. All the while, you face away towards the head of the bed, hiding your now exposed chest with your arms. You feel them pause, tracing a finger down your back. In your mind, you assume it to be one of the many marks left behind from the demons that captured you, and thus, you don’t focus too much on it.

You fail to notice Sukuna’s gaze transfixed on you from the doorway. Although silent, a darkness looms over his features. He exits the room moments later, shutting the door with more force than necessary, making your body jolt.

It’s a while before Uraume finishes, and they leave you with some fresh fruit to dine on. While you’re supposed to be resting, you find it difficult, especially after learning you’ve already been asleep for several days. That knowledge is precisely why you ditch the sheets to walk out onto the veranda connected to your room.

The moon is high in the sky, basking the courtyard garden with its sheer, red-toned light. Down here in the realm of fire, it’s as though the moon forever mirrors the flames conjured up from demons. That, or it reflects the many pools of blood from a millennium of suffering.

“Don’t you look like a broken bird,” Sukuna comments from behind you. For someone of his stature, it’s a wonder you didn’t hear him approaching.

“In a way, I am,” you muse, moving your eyes forward again. “One that flew too far from her nest.”

“Fallen from the nest and into the hands of a monster, how your precious fate seems to curse you.”

“Monster?” You snap your head in his direction with an incredulous look. “I hope you’re not referring to yourself with that comment.”

“You would deny what I am?” His voice is tinged with arrogance as he comes up beside you, not bothering to spare a glance. “I am the King of Demons, the most despised of life’s creation. How am I not a monster?”

“I’m still alive, aren’t I?” you respond, tilting your head. “Whatever the case may be, you chose to let me live, and even saw to the treatment of my injuries. You could’ve kept me in chains, plucking my feathers one by one, but you didn’t. You even have me in a room made for royalty.”

He scoffs, but you don’t let it stop you from continuing.

“Your title aside, I don’t assume anyone to be a monster ─ only a victim of circumstance. Is someone truly born evil, or is evil nurtured?”

Sukuna appears mildly surprised by your speech, giving you his attention. You spot the hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his lip. “A victim of circumstance, you say?” he repeats with an added air of mockery. “You raise an interesting point, but that doesn’t make you any less of a fool. Tell me, do you believe that because you’re an angel, you’re exempt from the original sin?”

“Not at all,” you answer quickly, and full of conviction. There’s not a drop of fear or hesitation as you openly speak your mind to Sukuna. “All of us ─ angels, demons, humans… we’re all doing what we can with the lives we were given. Angels rise and fall; some sinners beg for forgiveness while others let it define their nature. What’s important to me is how you treat others.”

“By that logic, what of the demons that maimed you? What of me, who has already killed in your presence?” Sukuna refutes. “Most would agree those to be the act of monsters.”

“Does being a demon mean you automatically deserve to be punished for the title you brandish? Does one act define your whole being? The demons who brought me before you sought help and protection ─ for that, I cannot blame them for their actions upon me. What difference is there between heaven and hell if I’m blinded by namesakes instead of looking at all the good and evil that can come from anyone, even of my own kind?”

Sukuna appears almost at a loss of words from your rambling. In truth, he wasn’t expecting such philosophy from someone so high in the celestial hierarchy, but he can see now why the humans would think to praise you as a saint.

“You make it sound so simple… so noble.” He’s looking at you now a deeper gleam in his eyes, intrigued enough to forgive your bold speech to him of all people. Most beings would never get away talking to him like you have after all. “So you would say there’s no difference between you and me after everything you’ve witnessed? How many in heaven would even agree with you?”

“I believe morality is a wild card that’s been muddied one too many times. There’s good and evil in everyone, even the almighty creators that chose to allow lesser beings to suffer in order to achieve growth. I can’t say I know many who would agree with me, but I understand their feelings and I’ll continue to trust in the potential for good.”

“You speak with a passion despite your predicament,” he huffs amusingly. “Still, I must admit, you have a unique way of thinking for an angel that’s uncommonly seen.”

You acknowledge his words with a hum, drifting your eyes to your wings lying flat at your side. “Most likely why heaven doesn’t seem too keen on my return,” you murmur, referencing the missing glow. “In return for saving me, I’ll see if I can be of use to you.” You’ll need a new purpose if you are to fall from grace.

Sukuna chuckles, the sound almost sinister. “An angel, offering her services to a demon. How… poetic.”

Silence takes over as you both admire the red glow of the garden. All that can be heard is running water from the fountain pond, and the occasional splashing of its scaled inhabitants.

“Can I ask you something?”

“You may,” Sukuna responds with one of his lower eyes pointed your way. “Whether or not I’ll answer is a different matter.”

You choose your next words carefully. This back-and-forth debate has been an unexpected treat after the pain you’ve endured to get here.

“You were an angel once too, yes? What happened that led your fall?”

His jaw clenches from the sudden inquiry. “There was a time I too preached the seven virtues; as for how I came to become the monstrosity I am today is a long, dark story.”

After telling you this, Sukuna starts to walk away.

“I see… I hope one day I’ll have the chance to hear it.”

He scoffs, giving you a sidelong stare over his shoulders. “I’ll consider your words, but it’s best now you return to your quarters and rest. Don’t go flying off anywhere.” His twisted laugh echoes from down the halls, and despite the cruelty of it, you can’t help but smile.

Days pass, and while you’d like to say you’ve gotten into a routine, even an angel like yourself isn’t immune to going stir crazy. To be grounded like this for as long as you have now is unnatural, and as your feathers seem to darken each day ─ so do your thoughts on the situation.

Currently, you’re seated out on the veranda again, admiring the servants working from afar to keep the courtyard clean and the shrubbery trimmed to the king’s liking. There’s a feeling that bubbles from within at the sight of those taking to their wings to reach the heights of certain trees, or cleaning along the palace rooftops. A feeling you aren’t sure just what to call as of now.

“Bored, are you?” That familiar tone reappearing. His arrival is the only bearable part of your stay as he forces you out of your own mind.

“I have the gift of life; I could never be bored,” you state, not taking your eyes off the demons that cling to the skies. “I am however… longing, I’d say.”

Sukuna’s eyes find you, moving from your face down to your wing. You’ve gotten to where you can feel his burning stare at times, even when he’s not around. While it may come off as intrusive, you find it a comfort.

“You miss it, don’t you? Being up in the skies, untethered from the earth.” he asks with understanding, but also that same recurring hint of his typical mockery.

“The wind between each feather, the sights you can only see from above…” You can’t help but sigh at what now feels like a distant memory. You’re certain your wing will recover, but whether you can maintain flight is a mystery in itself until the time is right. “Will you tell me now what purpose you have in keeping me around?”

Purpose is something you need right now to stave off the thoughts.

“Impatient, are we?” He holds your gaze silently for a moment before continuing. “I have my reasons, but I’m not ready to divulge them. For now, let me make it clear that you’re too valuable of a prize for me not to keep around.”

“A prize, huh?” You ponder the thought, leaning your body against one of the columns for support. “Am I even worthy if my connection to paradise has been severed?” you mumble on instinct, not intending for him to hear such thoughts you never knew you had.

He does though, and it leads to him furrowing his brows, and averting his stare to elsewhere in his domain.

“Who cares about heaven?” he starts, keeping his voice low and full of what you believe to be spite. You wouldn’t be surprised if he rolled his eyes as well. “Even if they abandoned you, your existence still holds value to me. Fallen or not, you’re a walkingcontradiction that’s piqued my interest. As far as I’m concerned, heaven was holding you back from your true potential.”

Moments like these are why you’ll argue with him for as long as necessary to prove he’s more than what he makes himself out to be.

“Is that so?” You smile. His eyes flicker back to you at the sound of your giggling. “You’re something else, you know that?”

Sukuna finds himself grinning as well. “Am I?” he questions while reaching to your feathers, running his fingers along them with a delicate touch. “And what would that be in your eyes?”

“The best way I can explain it is that you’re simply you ─ Sukuna.” You lean back one hand, gesturing with the other. “You try and present yourself as some monstrous demon that burns everything you touch, but here you are treating me with such care. I don’t doubt your strength, but I believe there’s more to you than meets the eye.”

“You’re a perceptive one, I’ll give you that, angel.” A beat of silence, and the flash of what could be read as vulnerability in his typically guarded demeanor. “But remember, I’m still a demon. My nature is not a kind one, so don’t go forgetting that detail.”

You chuckle, “I won’t, but I stand by my point. It’s my nature to see the good in everything that shares the same life as me.”

“Sounds tiring,” he deadpans, rolling his eyes. He removes his hand from your wing, tucking it back into his robe.

“Tiring? Oh contraire.” You smirk, feeling a spark of confidence ─ and maybe some defiance. “Do you only see the bad in everything? Always assuming the worst of others and thus feel the need to extinguish their life before they have a chance to bear their fangs? That to me seems tiring if you must always need your guard up.”

His face darkens considerably, and you realize too late that you’ve struck a nerve.

“You know nothing of what I’ve been through or why I do the things I do, so don’t pretend that you do,” he spits. The underlying wrath in his tone has your feathers puffing up. “Power is all that keeps me alive and keeps me going in this god-forsaken world. When you’ve been betrayed and hunted like I have, you learn quickly that you can only truly rely on yourself and not to trust others, especially not an angel.”

Guilt pangs in your chest alongside hurt from his choice words. You don’t regret what you said, but you maybe regret the timing of it, or not having considered his feelings before letting it all out. Life isn’t as fair to everyone as it might’ve been for you, but his anger has shown you the likelihood that his lifestyle was something nurtured ─ not the nature of sin one might argue.

He couldn’t have been born evil. It had to have been the acts of others that left him no choice but to become the embodiment of said evil.

And you can’t blame him for it, nor can you turn back time to right all of the wrongs. Fate must have brought you here for a reason, and in time you hope Sukuna realizes he doesn’t have to suffer alone. Even if he never pleads for forgiveness, you’ll show him that life is more than the negatives.

“I apologize if I upset you.” You stand up from your seat, tipping your head. A sudden act of submission even he can’t argue with. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll be returning to my quarters now to rest.”

His glare seems to soften, if only a slight change. “…Fine. Go rest,” he quietly sighs, shifting back towards his garden view.

You take your leave, unknowingly leaving behind one of your fallen feathers in your previous spot. Sukuna notices this, lifting it to the moon’s light, watching it filter through the hairs. He kisses his teeth before stalking back to his own quarters across the yard.

You don’t see Sukuna much after that, almost like he’s trying to avoid you. Is he really that upset with you? It begs the question whether he still wants you around, or if his anger outweighs your worth enough to kill you and be done with it.

It’s another night where you find yourself out in the garden, enjoying the semblance of freedom it offers. You no longer have a bandage around your wing ─ which now is half covered in shade coloring ─ and Uraume has instructed you to begin stretching it to work back into a routine of physical therapy.

It can’t hurt to see if you can at least lift yourself off the ground, right?

So, you stand at the center of what appears to be Sukuna’s training grounds, as it offers plenty of space to move. With the moonlight against your back, you stretch out your wings in full, covering a good portion of the area around your body. You feel nervous yet eager to fly, enough to push past the dull pain you feel when you finally begin to lift yourself up off the ground.

Already you’re sweating ─ so out of shape from rest ─ but you don’t want to give up. It’s too soon and knowing now you can be off the ground makes you hopeful that this is the day you can take to the skies again. Only you don’t realize how much strain you’re putting on yourself, and how your unharmed wing must compensate more fiercely.

“Come on…” you strain, flapping harder than before when a sudden jolt of pain pierces through your wing, sending you crashing back into the dirt with a yelp. It only gets worse as your weight ended up landing on your recovering wing.

“You idiot!” Sukuna appears, shouting with alarm as he comes up to your side. His usual calm demeanor having been replaced with both anger and concern. “You’re not fully healed yet, what were you thinking?” he snarls, forcing you to sit up off your crooked wing.

You start to tear up from the pain, feeling a wave of emotions crashing into you all at once. Feelings you never knew existed outside humanity. You let it all out by sobbing into the dirt, and out of sheer frustration, you begin clawing at it too, angrily flapping your wings like a child throwing a tantrum.

Sukuna is surprised by your sudden outburst. The sound of your tears and the flapping of your wings is like a desperate cry for the freedom you once felt. He grabs at your shoulders, commanding you with his voice, “Cut it out, you’re only making it worse.”

“It’s already worse!” you shout back at him, surprising him yet again with this new side of you. “Let’s face it, Sukuna ─ my wing is ruined, I’m falling into ruin, there’s nothing left of me!” Your cracked voice tears through the garden, its serenity now clouded in the anger and hopelessness you feel.

This is the first moment of your life you’ve ever felt suffering like the mortals you’ve guided, and for the reason to be something as selfish as self-loathing… it shows how far you’ve fallen from grace.

“Stop being dramatic,” he growls. “If you don’t give yourself time to heal, then how can say for certain you’ll never fly again?”

You throw yourself into Sukuna’s front, unsure how else to cope with the weight of your emotions. An angel seeking comfort in a demon. You may be free falling into sin, but you have to agree with the poetry of it like Sukuna suggested.

He wasn’t expecting you to suddenly cling to him, but besides the mild annoyance he feels, he doesn’t make any moves to push you away. His awkward embrace is warmer than you would’ve thought, but this is the ruler of flames we’re talking about.

You don’t feel as cold as you have when he arms shield you from the world, and the depths of your mind.

When your tears settle and your breathing mellows, Sukuna lifts you from the ground with ease. He carries you back to your room, placing you gently down onto the edge of your bed. His hand moves with practiced care to your wing, feeling for any discomfort. You wince of course, and he lets a frustrated sigh after a minute of testing.

“I’ll send Uraume in to deal with this,” he tells you, and you notice his tone lacks the usual authority or contempt. He shifts his gaze from your wing to your face, reading for any signs of life in your distant eyes. “How are you feeling?”

“I don’t know,” you reply, and it’s the truth. As an angel, you were designed to only feel emotions such as humility, kindness, patience… but now you don’t know what to label yourself with, or how to get through it. “What’s wrong with me?” you ask, not daring to look up from your knees.

“There’s nothing wrong with you.” One of his hands comes up under your jaw, lifting your chin to meet his crimson gaze. All four eyes staring into yours with the visage of understanding. “You’ve lost your light is all.”

Your light, your home, your paradise.

“I’ve lost everything.”

“You’re still alive, aren’t you?” His thumb traces your skin.

“Is that even worth it anymore? I’m no prize in this state, merely a broken bird like you had claimed.”

He furrows his brows, annoyed that you’re using his words against him as you wave the proverbial white flag with your voice.

“Don’t talk like that,” he snaps ─ harsh, but a necessary evil. “If you had no value, I would’ve killed you long ago. You have the mindset I’ve only seen in one other of your kind, and your knowledge and resilience are quite admirable in my eyes.” He lets go of your chin, stepping away from the bed. As he moves to leave, he stops, and without turning to look at you he says, “In time, you’ll realize how worthy you are.”

You weren’t sure if it could get any worse, but as the days continue to pass, you feel yourself sinking deeper into the abyss that is your psyche.

Uraume has been hovering around more often than not, urging you to stay in bed and rest, but you hate it. You hate this feeling of being powerless, of being empty, of not being able to live as you once had. From the moment you could fly, you were wandering the human realm, helping everyone you came across from the largest of creatures to the smallest of insects.

It’s your nature to help others no matter the cost. What’s not is putting yourself first. But now, everything’s changing ─ faster than you could have ever imagined.

You think this is what humans would refer to as fear, and what an unpleasant feeling it is.

Sukuna comes by every day, sometimes more than once to check in on you, and each time he finds you in the same, curled up position with your face buried in the silk.

He’s had enough of this slothful behavior.

“You need to eat, angel,” he says firmly, tapping his finger loudly on the bed post.

“’m not hungry,” you respond, though your voice is muffled and weak.

He lets out a frustrated sigh, and the force he puts into tapping his finger threatens to crack the wood. “You can’t just ignore your needs forever,” he retorts, “You need to eat, now.”

“Why do you care so much?” You don’t mean for the words to sound as harsh as they do, but luckily Sukuna is a patient man, most of the time.

“I didn’t save you just to watch you die in such a pathetic, mortal way.”

“Haven’t I always appeared pathetic since the day we met?” Bound in chains, bloodied with no celestial shine. Weak, broken, a pitiful excuse of heaven’s most revered angel. Complete, and utterly pathetic.

He kisses his teeth. “You’ve had your moments, but if you weren’t so busy feeling sorry for yourself, then you would see all that you are. All that you can be now.”

You’re silent for a few moments as you ponder his words. His unrestraint in speaking his mind may not always be a virtue, but it’s a comfort you’ve come to welcome all the same.

You turn your head his way and ask, “Was it like this for you when you fell from grace?”

“I wasn’t moping like you are, if that’s what you mean.” He then sighs and takes a seat along the edge of the bed, cautious in avoiding your sprawled out wing ─ which has become increasingly black as the days pass by. “But yes, I too had to overcome human emotion to get where I am now. It won’t last forever, I assure you.”

“You were right before,” you murmur, staring past Sukuna into your view of the garden. “I don’t know all the struggles you’ve had to face, or anyone for that matter. It doesn’t matter if I’ve visited one village or a thousand burnt to ash. Until now, I’ve never truly felt pain like this in my heart.”

Both set of eyes look down at you, but not in the sense that you’re beneath him. His gaze is understanding, regretful even for how he spoke to you before. You’ve stirred up Sukuna’s emotions without realizing, forcing him to come to terms with how he feels.

“What you’ve seen in the past has always been the aftermath of war. Until you’ve faced suffering yourself, you never would understand the pain behind it.” There’s a bitterness lacing his words as he remembers that period of his life prior to becoming king.

The moment that changed the course of his life forever.

“For whatever you’ve been through, I’m so sorry.” Tears rush down the side of your eyes, collecting into the sheets. “I always believed heaven had everyone’s backs, even those who hadn’t redeemed themselves, but I was wrong, so wrong. I’m just as guilty as every other celestial being for turning a blind eye and letting you suffer.”

Sukuna’s demeanor softens up at your apology, and he reaches a sharpened nail out to catch one of your tears. “Your apology is unnecessary… but I appreciate it nonetheless.”

The two of you sit in silence as you let the tears flow freely. The only sound aside from your own being the windchime Uraume had put up along the garden doors one evening. It’s the normal glass bulb shape, but the papery sheet that catches the wind is black, with red-spider lilies painted across. The flower’s coloring continuously reminds you of another with that same hue painted four times over.

Your stomach eventually disrupts the scene, cueing what you both were already aware of.

“Sounds like someone’s hungry; are you going lie again?” he teases, now poking his finger into your back.

“I guess I could try and eat something,” you playfully reply, moving to sit up. You feel discomfort immediately in your head, your vision darkening in turn from how long it’s been since you’ve last had a proper meal.

“Rest,” he orders after noticing your grimace. “I’ll have food brought to you immediately.”

Before he gets too far, you call out to him, “Sukuna?” He turns, giving you his attention. “Thank you,” you tell him, the moonlight hitting your face just as you smile. Its red glow is accentuated by your glossy cheeks, almost like a blush.

“You’re welcome,” he replies gruffly, but with the hint of his own smile hidden buried under his scarf.

From there, the days only get easier. Resting has felt less of a routine, and with Uraume’s help, physical therapy has been going well. There’s plenty of new growth in the form of pinfeathers across your wingspan, and the oldest of such white at the very tips still. It appears your broken wing will forever remain deformed ─ no thanks to the stunt you pulled ─ but you find yourself embracing the change.

The same can be said for many things now in your new life, such as how you’ve come to enjoy the night over day. The moon’s light is a comforting touch, as is the serenity felt in the late hours. You let that light guide your fingers across your wings, preening the darkened feathers to look your best.

Another change you’ve noticed are the appearance of marks stemming from the center of your back. According to Uraume, they were present at the time of your arrival, but since then have grown to wrap around your body in a filigree type pattern. You’re reminded of Sukuna’s own markings as you examine your body, and you’ve begun to question if this is how heaven marks their fallen.

Reaching the feathers closest to that part of your body is a challenge, and one you’re struggling to overcome. Angels typically preen each other’s wings in a show of chastity, and companionship. You’re certain Uraume would help if you ask, but the idea stirs a sense of intimacy now for whatever reason.

“Having trouble there?” Sukuna’s voice cuts through the night from behind you as always, making you jolt in surprise.

“Oh– uhh, yeah, just a bit.”

“It’s not an easy task reaching those feathers on your own, is it?” he muses with a snickering laugh. His footsteps are silent as he comes ever closer to the edge of the veranda.

“It isn’t, but I’m positive there’s feathers there ready to be unfurled.” You have a focused look on your face as you try once more to bend your arms in outrageous ways to try and reach.

“Let me help,” he says, brushing your hands away.

Sukuna doesn’t wait for your response before his fingers deftly land on the center of your back. His touch sparks a shiver down your spine, arching yourself upright. Your wings have never felt this sensitive before and it’s becoming increasingly difficult to keep them steady for him to work.

There’s a sudden influx of emotions you don’t recognize bubbling up, and a heat that pools in the base of your body. At times, it feels like Sukuna is purposely working slow to make your feathers all nice and pretty. His knuckles brush you in a way that hitches your breath.

He hums closely by your ear, “Your wings are quite sensitive here, aren’t they?”

Has his voice always sounded so melodic? So intoxicating? From the way he laughs at your reaction, you can tell he’s enjoying himself. Like he knows what’s going on in your mind.

He does.

You shoot up from your position with sudden urgency. “T-thanks for the help Sukuna, if you’ll excuse, I’ll see you later and I hope you have a wonderful rest of your night!” you stammer out with the hurry of a freefalling eagle, retreating back into your quarters before he has any chance to respond.

Sukuna can’t say he wasn’t caught off guard by this, but at the sight of your reddened face and eyes desperate to avoid his ─ he’ll forgive you.

On the other side of your folding screen door, you fall to your knees in a near pant to catch your breath whatever that was about. Temptation has never looked so good than in the form of Ryomen Sukuna, for all that he is. And while you came so close to the edge of a decadent abyss, you realized something.

You’ve grown fond of Sukuna, and in ways that can only be described with one word.

Sin.

From the window view of his study, Sukuna catches you out of the corner of his eyes stepping out from your room and into the courtyard. He doesn’t think much of it having gotten used to you being at the core of his picturesque view night after night. The moment he realizes you’re heading towards his training yard, however, is the same moment he ditches the scroll he was reading to follow..

He’s aware Uraume has given you the all-clear to attempt flight, but that was but a few hours before now. Truthfully, he should’ve known better. Of course you’re going to start right away.

Leaving his study, he makes haste to catch up, hoping to avoid what happened last time. He stands at the edge of the arena stealthily, watching as you stretch your now fully black wings to their limits. The first few flutters betray the confidence you showed in your steps to this place. He can tell you’re fighting a battle in your mind, but to Sukuna ─ those thoughts are useless.

“Why did you stop?” he asks, closing the distance after watching you deflate to your knees into the dirt.

“What if I get hurt again?” you confirm his inner thoughts with that meek voice. Foolish angel.

“What if you do?” he retorts, blunt as ever. “Are you just going to stay grounded forever because you’re afraid of a little pain? You’ve come this far; it would be a shame to give up now.”

“I don’t want to be on the ground ─ hell, I’ve been waiting for this day for so long and now that it’s here…” Your voice trails off, falling back to the low, despairing tone. “I’m afraid it won’t be the same.”

“It won’t be the same,” he says with an added huff. If anyone is in the position to give tough love, it’s Sukuna. “You will always carry that scar”-he gestures with a pointed claw at your wing-“a reminder of your fall, but that doesn’t mean you can’t fly. You won’t know until you get back up in the air.”

“But if I can’t, then what use could I possibly be?”

Sukuna crosses his upper pair of arms, leaving his lower pair to hang off his waist, one finger tapping away at the fabric at his hip. You’re in despair, and your main concern is whether you’re useful or not?

If you were anyone else, he wouldn’t think twice about making you his next meal. The weak are meant to be chewed up, but why can’t you see the potential you have already? (It’s standing right in front of you after all with a scowl on their face.)

“If wings were the defining point of who you are, then would you claim me to be useless?”

The day Sukuna fell from grace was the same day he tore his own wings from his back, tossing aside the last reminder of that accursed realm to embrace his demonic half in full.

“Of course not!” you refute with the same fire he saw when you argued how he isn’t not a monster. You’re not a lost cause yet if you can still manage that passion.

“Then get up and show me what you’re made of,” he commands. “You’re an angel ─ albeit a fallen one. Not the same broken bird you were before.”

Your eyes flash with realization, and with newfound determination, you’re back on your feet.

“Okay,” you breathe. “I just need to return to my roots.”

“Return to your roots? What exactly do you mean?”

“You said it yourself,” you casually say in passing, walking over to where the courtyard backs up against the edge of a cliff overlooking Sukuna’s domain. “I may be damaged, but I’m still a bird, aren’t I?”

Sukuna’s eyes widen.

“And where exactly are you going with this, dove?”

You can’t possibly be doing what he thinks you’re going to do. He doesn’t want you to get hurt, but he also wants you to see this through. Impressive, angel. A manic grin appears.

“Sometimes all a bird needs is for their parent to push them from the nest. Dive right in, even if you’re too afraid to try.”

You spread your arms out with your wings, backing off the edge and into freefall.

Sukuna’s at the cliff’s edge in a fraction of a second, his heart beating uncharacteristically loud in his chest as he watches you fall. It’s a harrowing sight, even for him, but the relief he feels when you manage to catch the wind between your feathers is unlike the emotions he felt before your arrival. Since that day, it’s like he’s had to fall from grace all over again with you, only that much harder this time around.

His smile doesn’t falter either, morphing from smug arrogance to a proud shine. The way you’ve taken to the skies is like you never left. If Sukuna’s domain is fire, then yours is the air that fans the flames in a mesmerizing dance. With a heavy thrust, you push yourself up ─ higher than his palace and the mountain’s peak before diving back down, returning to Sukuna’s side.

“I did it,” you mumble victoriously, a crazed grin of your own that Sukuna loves to see. “I did it!” you repeat, this time turning that smile towards Sukuna, with eyes brighter than any glow a halo could muster.

“See what happens you don’t give up?”

You lunge forward, wrapping your arms tightly around his waist. “Thank you, Sukuna,” you tell him breathlessly.

He finds himself liking this moment better than when you soaked his robes with tears.

“For what?” he asks, placing a hand on the crown of your head.

“For the care, the healing, the late-night conversations… for everything. For saving me.” Your arms tighten almost possessively around him. “You’ve shown me a kindness like no one before, and I am forever in your debt.”

Sukuna brushes his hand from your hair down to your jawline, tilting your head upwards. Something about the way your eyes shine from his doing makes his cold heart feel that much warmer.

“What kind of saint or angel are you to find kindness in a beast like me?” he mutters, lowering his head closer to yours.

“Like you said ─ a fallen angel, but an angel nonetheless.” His face now a mere breath away from yours. “And like I’ve told you ─ I see you only for what you are, demon or not. To me, you’ve always been just Sukuna.”

The moment your lips meet is when the cord connecting you to paradise officially snaps, thrusting you into an unholy matrimony. You feel a burning sensation come along the markings that brandish you, but it doesn’t hurt. Right now, all that runs through your blood is one thing, and one thing only.

Desire.

As your body rises in heat, so does the intensity of your kissing. You’re doing whatever feels right, and most of all good. Sukuna feels this, just as you feel his lips smiling against your own. His tongue dips into your mouth and for the first time in your life, your body lets off a moaning sound.

It drives Sukuna near feral hearing it, and with his lower pair of arms he tugs you close to body, enough to feel his own desire straining for relief. His mind is quickly becoming a mess of both need and longing.

He pulls you down with him to the ground, settling you over his hips with your legs at either side. Those same hands now driven with lust roam your body in tangent with yours that have found their way to his chest, feverishly working to unveil his body. He grows tired of the struggle, and in a split second he severs your robes clean off, and his to follow. Only now do your lips part, leaving a string of drool to keep you connected.

The moon offers the perfect glow needed to highlight your features. He leans back onto his elbows, admiring the rise and fall of your heated chest, the red hue clinging to your feathers, the half-lidded stare revering his own sculpted figure… there’s only one word that comes to mind when he sees your soul laid out before him.

“Beautiful,” he says breathlessly and in full confidence. His upper set of hands trace your sides before coming into contact with your chest. He brushes the padding of his thumbs over each nipple. His other two hands holding you by the hips, pulling you down deeper onto his core. “Oh, so beautiful, my sweet angel.”

You gasp at the feeling of something twitching below you ─ or rather, somethings. The sound makes Sukuna groan again with pleasure, the slit along his stomach opening to reveal a second mouth before your very eyes. To others, this would be enough to incite fear. But for you, it only ignites a fire between your thighs.

“Come here,” he demands, rhetorically it seems as he pulls you right over the freshly parted maw. A thick tongue flicks upward along your sex, frazzling your mind with symphony of whines. He groans again ─ much deeper this time ─ feeling his four eyes roll back into his head. “I knew from the moment I laid eyes on you that you would be the most divine tasting meal I’ve had to date.”

Sukuna finds himself struggling to keep you still as his tongue enters your body. It’s at this moment the veil of your chastity is no more, your purity claimed by the King of Demons.

Your body continues to squirm as his tongue shifts around your velvety walls, your wings continuously twitching and fluttering when it taps your sweet spot.

“So sensitive,” he laughs with that familiar mocking sound, but his eyes show only a carnal need with how pleasantly you respond to his touch.

“Feels s’good,” you mewl, a breathy sigh staggering out. You try to balance yourself with your hands, digging into his shoulders with talon-like grip.

“Yeah?” He continues to toy with your breasts, pulling one into his mouth. The feeling of his teeth grazing your flesh ─ eager to mark ─ has you gasping once more. “I know it does, you needy girl.”

“I need you,” you confess with a depraved stare that’s only heightened by the glow of the bloodied moon. It’s so close to mirroring his own, like your soul has already been claimed by the devil himself. After your purity, that’s the next step in this journey of love.

He chuckles, slithering his tongue back into his mouth. “Let’s see if you can handle me then without breaking.”

You’re confused at first what he means until suddenly you’re lifted into the air, watching as he pulls both cocks from his hakama. You knew they were big, but you had thought it was due to how they stacked over the other. How wrong you were to not expect the nine-foot-tall demon to be as equally blessed below.

“What do you think?” he teases, tilting his head to the side slightly.

“Why don’t you let me show you what I’m made of? I’m tougher than I look, you know.”

“Good girl. That you are,” he praises, helping you align yourself with one of his cocks. “I look forward to seeing you worship me with your body.”

It doesn’t take much for you to sink down onto him in full, your cunt a dripping mess thanks to his saliva and your freshly discovered arousal ─ like an untapped spring now bursting forth. There’s little pain that follows from the stretch, your body instead erupting with pleasure. It’s as though you were made for him. That your purpose in life was always to please him in every way possible. Everything you experienced so far was to bring you to this very moment in time.

“Embrace your instinct,” Sukuna says as he guides your starting motions. “Let it fuel your potential.”

You work with his motions, eyes fluttering shut at the incredible sensation. “I’m so full,” you sigh, and he chuckles.

“You’re doing so well; I knew you had it in you,” he purrs. “Soon enough you’ll be taking both in one hole. Would you like that?” You clench hard around him at that, and he can tell you’re getting ever closer.

“W-w-what is this feeling?” You move your hand downwards with unknown purpose to where his body meets yours, fingers gliding along his upper shaft, down every vein, and even rubbing it against your own clit for more of that wonderous sensation that’s building.

Using his own dick to pleasure yourself? My, how far you’ve fallen into his sinful embrace. The primal need he has for you is exceeding what he thought possible. How perfect you are for him ─ a match made in hell.

“It’s euphoria, my dear. Heaven,” he mutters gruffly, hissing with pleasure. “Let it break you and I promise you’ll feel better than ever before.”

“I need you, ‘Kuna.” Your voice comes out as a pleading whine that hitches his breath. The words a desperate plea for something you’re still learning to embrace.

“Tell me what you want, angel,” he growls, his eyes searing into yours. A set of hands glide upwards, one over your breast, the other at the base of your skull. “Say it,” he commands this time, pointed nails digging into your flesh, pushing even deeper into your body.

“I want you ─ no, I need you, Sukuna,” you declare with such staggering force to match your desire.

“Then you’ll have me. All of me,” he responds in turn, flashing his canines greedily. “So take me, angel. Take me for whatever you need.”

That’s all you need to feel your inhibitions slip away. You lean forward until his back is against the ground, kissing him from his lips down to his neck, feeling an urge like no other to sink your teeth into his flesh ─ to mar him as yours.

“More,” you mumble, moving your hips faster, intent on reaching that cascading high. “More, more, I need all of you, ‘Kuna.”

“You’ll have it all. Everything,” he promises in the form of a whisper, so close to your ear. “As much as you need, as much as you desire. I’ll give you everything the world has to offer if you stay by my side.”

You dig your nails into his body as your own begins to unravel before him. Waves of pleasure crashing down with all its might as you preach his name for all to hear. Tears slip from your eyes as you curl in around him, and he soaks each one up with his tongue as you ride out the high.

“Fuck, you’re so… divine,” you purr a sinful tune. “Nothing ─ not even in paradise ─ has ever made feel this way.”

Forget being an angel. In the state you are now, Sukuna believes you could put a succubus to shame. You feel and look so incredible on top of your new throne. Divine as you put it.

“You feel like heaven yourself,” he claims through ragged breaths. “Everything about you is addicting; you’re a drug I can’t get enough of. Mark my words, I’m going to indulge myself in your soul for all eternity.”

“Take me then. Claim me, ruin me, I don’t care so long as you make me yours.”

Fuck, if you knew the power you have over him.

“You’re already mine,” he hisses, and before you can blink, your positions are swapped. His figure towering over yours. “But incase that wasn’t already obvious, I’ll prove it to you here.”

Sukuna leans his head down, kissing you on the lips. The calm before the storm that’s to come.

“I’m going to claim you and make you completely and utterly mine.” He pulls his hips backwards, leaving only the head of his cock inside you. “…and I’m not going to stop until you’re completely wrecked, completely mine.”

Sukuna thrusts forward, slamming his hips into you. There’s no second to spare, no second to adjust before he does it again and again, forcing you to cry out to the heavens how good he’s making you feel. It serves them right for abandoning you, leaving him to pick up the pieces. It’s the only thing he’ll thank that pathetic realm for, because you truly are one of the most divine creations to have existed alongside himself.

It isn’t enough for you yet it seems, no matter how rough he’s being. Your legs try and wrap around him, but you’re only hindering yourself. So, with two arms, he lifts your legs to your chest, placing his knees at your side. This new position allows him to reach even deeper, fulfilling what he knows you need.

He lowers his forehead to press against yours, sharing the air you command like a goddess those beautiful, encapsulating wings of yours. If you can’t wrap your legs around him, you at least try it with your wings. Like a moth’s cocoon, making this moment in time all your own. So selfish; it’s exactly what he’s wanted to see.

“Who’s making you feel this good?” he asks, his hips refusing to slow. If anything, they’re only getting faster ─ more erratic in nature.

“You are!” you cry out.

“And who do you belong to?”

“You!”

“Say it,” he growls, and you know exactly what he means.

“I’m yours, Sukuna! Only yours!”

“That’s right,” he chuckles darkly, drawing out his words. “You’re mine. Mine to do with as I please, mine to claim and take forever.” His voice is strong, carrying his decree like the word of the gods. “Do you see now the prize that you are to me?”

You nod your head feverishly, scraping your nails along his back. Your wings flutter with frenzy at the incoming high you both are flying so close to reach.

“So. Damn. Divine,” he groans between thrusts, almost threatening to truly break you if he isn’t careful. “You’re going to take every last drop of me, aren’t you?”

“Please, please, please, I want it all,” you plead and whimper, drool spilling out the sides of your mouth. “I want all of you.”

He bites down on your neck before stilling inside you, a rush of warmth hitting you both inside and out. You open your mouth in a silent scream at the force your climax hits you with. Desire overwhelming you from the depths of your being. Near the end, Sukuna slowly rocks his hips into you, fucking his seed back into you before leaning back to admire the view of your stomach painted in white.

As he does, you notice the blood trickling from his mouth is black in color. No longer the same angelic gold it once was.

“I love you, Sukuna,” you confess, making him smile with that all too familiar arrogance you’ve come to love, just like him. “I’ve never wanted anything more in my life until now. I’ve found purpose again with you.”

“I told you that in time your worth would be realized.” He pulls out from your body, casually pushing his seed back inside with hand. His stomach mouth opens, splaying out his second tongue to clean himself off the front of your body. “You have the makings of a queen ─ one who could stand by my side through the end of time.”

When he’s finished cleaning you off, he helps you up onto your knees. You then take to embracing him in your arms, and even your wings just to hold him close to your heart. “I never realized how constricting the heavenly principles were until you set me free. Thank you for showing me how life should be lived.”

Sukuna tightens his four arms around you, feeling that same possessive desire in his chest that goes beyond carnal need. There’s pride in his eyes to know what he’s taken from those bastards above. Nothing compares to you.

“You don’t need to thank me; you were made to be free. True paradise is removing all restraints to live as you please under no guiding order. Strength is power, and you’ve found it at last.”

“This right here is better than any paradise I’ve seen.” Sukuna feels your smile growing against his chest.

“Damn right it is,” he laughs, grinning like the devil he is.

And who would’ve imagined that heaven’s most revered angel, the guiding saint of humanity, would have fallen from grace, and into the hands of the sinner you love more than life itself now.

Fate is a fickle thing, and you know that now.

In the days that followed that night to remember, new changes began sprouting up. Symbols of your life renewed, risen from ash.

For starters, your wings have taken on an iridescent glow ─ like a black devil boa. No one, not even Sukuna has ever heard of such a thing happening to a fallen angel, but it’s become just another feature that makes his proudness of you show.

You’re one of a kind, and entirely his.

Your old room and clothes are no more. Now, you wear only the best money can buy, tailored perfectly to your form. Sukuna’s hoard contains many riches on top of gold, including a stockpile of gems he’s taken to adorning you with. All are reminiscent of his ruby red eyes ─ perfectly fitting with you. He’s a king in every way, always eager to indulge in the pleasures life has to offer.

You trot through the halls of his palace, making way to his throne. You’re eager to be reunited after a morning spent dancing in the skies, your heart tugging you to his side. He’s hosting an audience by the looks of it, but that doesn’t stop all four of his eyes from landing on you as you enter.

“Perfect timing, angel.” He smiles wickedly, displaying his vampiric fangs in full. “Come and take a seat, the show has only just begun now that you’re here.”

At his words, you come bounding up the bone-riddled steps, arriving before him. Sukuna’s hand reaches out, guiding you to rest atop one of his thighs. That hand remains on the small of your back, with another resting on your own inner thigh ─ his thumb rubbing shapes into the plush.

“You remember these demons, I’m sure?” You turn your head and look down, finding the very demons who had brought you here in the first place. They don’t dare meet your eyes as their gaze bores into the marbled floors. “You see, they’ve come demanding a meeting with me. They seem to be hoping I’ll reward them now with something other than their lives for bringing you to me.”

“Is that so?” you muse, ultimately ignoring their presence as your lips meet Sukuna’s with passion, your hands resting on either side of his jaw. “What do you think of that, my king?”

He chuckles, “I think they were foolish to try and demand me to do anything for them.” Sukuna snaps his fingers once, filling the room with an intense warmth. Fire has never looked more beautiful than when it reflects into yours from the depths of his eyes. The weight of his soul, resting between the palms of your hands.

“Wouldn’t you agree, my queen?”

You do, because all that matters now is one thing, your purpose, pleasure, and every depraved feeling in between ─ Sukuna himself.

☆ Notes: got inspired by a sukuna c.ai bot by @ vittovitto with a similiar premise

I like to imagine that as angels who live by the 7 virtues, that when they fall, they go through like an awkward werewolf kinda phase like I’ve detailed where they start to feel each of the 7 sins. Kinda liked a fucked up puberty with all the hormonal changes idk, I thought it was cool when I thought of it.

Overall though, I had a REALLY fun time writing this. I’ve always loved the idea of fallen angel Sukuna but writing about biblical stuff throws me off a bit. Hope you guys enjoy it as much as I did while I force myself to get back into my other five ongoing series!!!

song inspo: heaven's a lie - lacuna coil | parade's lust - granblue fantasy (i'm horny for belial, what can i say)

[lithiumfae]

nsfw headcanons | weasley twins, harry, ron and draco.

warning: filth, don’t blame me.

❥ george weasley.

experienced. this man has slept his way through all the houses, he tends to go for hufflepuffs.

he is the type of guy that guides you through it, no teasing.

he seems like the type of guy that’s into oral sex (he prefers receiving). he is also into LOUD sex, he will try his hardest to make his partner scream just to shush her right after.

“keep it down, they’re gonna hear you” said with a straight face.

he likes to be in control without being a don.

i see him as more of an ass man…

he totally goes for tall girls, there’s just something about a woman close to his height that does it for him.

the type to ask “mmm?” with a fake sad face mocking his partner when she moans too loud.

favourite position: doggy.

❥ fred weasley.

also experienced. everyone is aware of this because he WONT shut up about it.

he likes to poke fun if his partner is not savvy enough, jokes, jokes and more jokes.

he’s into short people because that makes it easier to, you guessed it, make fun of them.

this man will ask the nastiest question the human brain could conjugate in front of everyone.

“have you ever done it prone bone?” next is the sound of everyone’s spoons hitting the floor as their mouths hang open.

if the phrase red flag was a person it would be him, but we are all blind i guess. will occasionally go for the girl george finds hot just to prove a point.

boob man 100%

he loves to give oral, he loves how shy girls get when he smiles up at them.

favourite position: standing.

❥ harry potter.

he was a virgin for the longest time and it shows.

he loves making out, sometimes you think he prefers it over sex.

he flushes all the way down to his chest, rosy patches on his pale skin.

he is on the submissive side, he loves being marked.

he asks for hickies. he likes the ones that can be seen.

he prefers taller people too, the type of dude to have a crush on Lady Dimitrescu.

eye contact. he looks at you with his eyes and mouth wide open, he pants and nods his head asking a silent question.

“yes?”

when he’s getting a blowjob he doesn’t know what to do with his hands, he’ll have them in the air clenching and unclenching a fist, trying so hard not to pull your hair.

the type of dude to say thank you lmaooooo

boob man too.

favorite position: cowgirl. DEFINITELY.

❥ ron weasley.

red flag personified part 2.

he’s such a jealous man but he won’t let you know until you’re having sex and you notice he refuses to kiss you.

he likes it rough and fast but he can somehow go for the next round not even 15 minutes after the first one.

stamina?????? hello?????

he likes to finger girls because it allows him to look at their faces and focus on the expressions they make.

he’s definitely shagged half the gryffindor tower but none of the girls brag about it??? he’s lowkey sad about it but also their loss yk what i mean.

sometimes he cries when he cums. it’s a little pathetic but it’s ron so it’s okay.

he gets off by having sex with slytherin girls, his ego loves it.

the type of dude to get into an enemies to lovers kind of deal.

“yeah? aren’t you embarrassed getting fucked by the bloke you hate?”

definitely into humiliation and degradation.

ass man.

favourite position: good old missionary.

❥ draco malfoy.

for all his mean bravado he is actually quite the gentleman.

if anyone out of these 5 men knows where the clit is it would definitely be him.

he likes it rough but not fast.

he is totally a dom but he is definitely not aware he is one, he doesn’t even know that those dynamics have names.

likes to pull girls’ hair to make them focus, he’ll even do it outside the bedroom. if you’re distracted while he’s telling you something at lunch he’ll pull your ponytail.

he is also into giving oral, opposite to fred he does it because HE likes it.

boobs boobs boobs boobs, oh how he loves boobs.

has a weak spot for girls with round faces.

“oh i’m so sorry love, such a pretty face stained with tears” all said with a very soft voice almost as if he was truly sorry.

he likes it wet, wet to the point where it sounds filthy.

favourite position: sideways or spooning.

[mingi-s-dimples]

Under their control - sanhwa

KINKTOBER DAY 22, REQ. BY anon

~"Would love a mommy!hwa x female reader x daddy!San fic! Hwa's not female, he just has a maternal vibe/ aura. The reader lives with them and is their (human)pet. They like to dress the reader in cute lingerie and collar and leash. A fic where the reader is getting punished for something (you can decide what) and they keep denying her orgasm. Some size kink, double penetration, fake sympathy, pet names. Thank you!"

pairing: mommy soft dom!seonghwa x fem reader x daddy rough dom!san

genre: 18+, filth, mommy/daddy bdsm trope

summary: you get on San's nerves again... which has always proved to not be a good idea.

wc: 7.1k

warnings: harsh/rough dom!san, soft dom!seonghwa, daddy!san, mommy!seonghwa, denied orgasms, pussy eating, marking, making out, double penetration, collar and leash, slight size kink, fake sympathy, lots of cum in the end, a crumb of aftecare in the end, teasing, pet names (kitten, darling, sweetheart..), ass spanking, unprotected, completely consensual, blowjob, handjob, for sure forgot something.. will edit 'warnings' later.

Author's Note: I looveeed writing this one... you can tell by the number of words LMAO. I hope you like it anon.. I'm sorry it took me fucking ages (I'm sorry to everyone ajsnda). I hope y'all like it <3 i love youuu

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and does not represent in any way the reality of the members.

The sunlight filtered through the gauzy curtains of the shared bedroom, casting soft golden streaks across the plush duvet. The atmosphere was a mixture of warmth and tranquility, the faint scent of lavender lingering from the candle Seonghwa had lit the previous night. You stirred, shifting against the soft bedding, your cheek brushing the smooth pillowcase.

“Good morning, baby,” came Seonghwa’s voice, gentle and melodic, as he entered the room. His arms cradled a tray holding a cup of tea and a small plate with neatly arranged fruit slices. “It’s time to wake up.”  

You blinked, squinting against the morning light, and smiled sleepily at the sight of him. He was always the first to greet you in the mornings, his nurturing presence like a soothing balm. He set the tray down on the nightstand, leaning in to press a feather-light kiss to your forehead.  

“How did my little one sleep?” he asked, brushing stray strands of hair from your face.  

“Good,” you murmured, your voice still groggy. You nuzzled into his touch, relishing the tenderness he always exuded.  

“You have a busy day ahead,” he reminded, his lips curving into a small smile. “San wants you ready and downstairs in half an hour. You know how he feels about being late.”  

San. Just the mention of him sent a small shiver down your spine—not entirely out of fear, but because of the way his presence filled every room he walked into. Where Seonghwa was soft and soothing, San was sharp, commanding. You felt the dichotomy of their dynamics every day, a constant interplay of comfort and authority.  

“I’ll get up,” you promised, sitting up slowly and letting the blankets pool around your waist.  

Seonghwa nodded, pleased with your obedience. “Good girl,” he said softly.  

—

By the time you reached the kitchen, the smell of coffee had filled the space. San was already there, standing by the counter in a crisp black shirt that fit him a little too perfectly. He glanced up when you entered, his dark eyes immediately locking onto you.  

“You’re late,” he said, his tone even but with that familiar edge of authority.  

Your heart sank. You’d only taken a few extra minutes, but with San, those small delays were never overlooked.  

“I—I didn’t mean to,” you stammered, casting a quick glance at Seonghwa, who had taken a seat by the table and was watching the interaction unfold with a faint smile.  

San’s brow arched, and he stepped closer, his presence looming in a way that made your pulse quicken. “Didn’t mean to?” he repeated, his voice laced with mock sympathy. “Sweetheart, how many times have we talked about this?”  

You fidgeted, your fingers twisting together. “A lot,” you admitted quietly.  

“And yet here you are.” He reached out, lifting your chin with two fingers so that you had no choice but to meet his gaze. “What am I supposed to do with you, kitten? Hmm?”  

You swallowed hard, the weight of his words settling heavily in your chest. “I’m sorry,” you offered weakly.  

San’s lips curved into a smirk that was anything but kind. “Oh, darling. You’ll be sorry, alright?”  

Seonghwa let out a soft chuckle from his seat, his voice lilting with amusement. “Be gentle, San. You know how sensitive she is.”  

San shot him a look, but it was devoid of any real irritation. “Oh, I’ll be gentle,” he said, his attention returning to you. “At least at first.”  

— 

The mistake had been minor in the grand scheme of things, but San never let the small things slide. It was his way of keeping you in line, as he so often reminded you.  

“Upstairs. Now,” he ordered, his voice firm.  

You hesitated for a split second, but the sharpness in his eyes spurred you into motion. You turned and hurried up the stairs, your heart pounding in anticipation.  

By the time you reached the bedroom, you could already hear his measured footsteps behind you. Seonghwa had stayed behind in the kitchen, but you knew he would come up eventually. He always liked to play the role of the sympathetic observer or maybe join in, offering soft words of comfort after San was done.  

San closed the door behind him with a deliberate click, the sound sending a jolt of nervous energy through you.  

“On the bed,” he instructed, his voice low.  

You obeyed, climbing onto the bed and sitting back on your heels. Your collar—a delicate, silver chain adorned with a small charm—felt heavier around your neck under his intense gaze. You'd always wear it whenever you were at home for a couple of days, free of work.

“Do you know why you’re being punished?” he asked, crossing his arms as he stood at the foot of the bed.  

“Yes,” you replied softly.  

“Yes, what?”  

“Yes, Daddy.”  

His smirk widened, pleased by your submission. “That’s right, baby girl.”  

He moved closer, his hand reaching out to trail a finger along the edge of your collar. “This little thing,” he murmured, his tone deceptively soft, “means you follow the rules. Doesn’t it?”  

You nodded, your breath hitching as his finger traced down to the hollow of your throat.  

“And what happens when you break the rules?” he pulls you by yourbneck

“I get punished,” you whispered.  

“That’s my good girl,” he said, his voice dripping with false affection. “At least you remember that much.”

San’s hand moved down to your waist, his grip firm but not harsh. He turned you slightly, positioning you so that you were kneeling on the bed with your back to him. Before you could anticipate his next move, the sharp sound of his palm meeting your ass filled the room, making you gasp.  

“Late again,” he said, his tone a mixture of mock exasperation and amusement. “You never learn, do you?”  

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice trembling.  

“Sorry?” San repeated, his fingers tracing slow, lazy circles on the spot he’d just slapped. “Do you think that makes up for wasting my time, kitten?”  

Your head hung low, shame and guilt swirling in your chest. “No, Daddy.”  

“Hmm, no, it doesn’t,” he agreed, the false sympathy in his voice sending shivers down your spine. His other hand gripped your chin, tilting your face back toward him. “But I’ll humor you. Tell me why you think you deserve my forgiveness.”  

The words caught in your throat, your eyes darting toward the door as if silently begging for intervention. As if on cue, the door opened, and Seonghwa stepped in, his presence a balm to the tension that had built in the room.  

“San,” he said softly, his melodic voice breaking through the thick atmosphere. “Don’t you think you’re being a little harsh on her?”  

San didn’t loosen his grip on you, but his lips twitched in a faint smirk. “A little harsh? Maybe. But I like to think it gets the point across.”  

Seonghwa crossed the room, his movements slow and deliberate, like he was trying not to spook you. He came up behind you, his warm hands resting gently on your shoulders. “Our little one just needs guidance,” he murmured, leaning down so that his lips brushed the shell of your ear. “Not to be broken.”  

The contrast between them was striking. Where San’s touch was firm and commanding, Seonghwa’s was a soothing, grounding you even as your nerves buzzed. His arms slid around your waist, pulling you back into his chest from San's grip and you felt a small measure of safety return.  

San clicked his tongue, his amusement clear. “You spoil her too much, Hwa. That’s why she thinks she can get away with being late.”  

Seonghwa chuckled, his voice vibrating against your back. “Or maybe you’re too quick to punish, San. Have you thought of that?”  

San’s smirk widened, and he stepped closer, his hands slipping to your thighs, squeezing just enough to draw your attention back to him. “I think you’re too soft,” he teased, his gaze meeting Seonghwa’s over your shoulder. “But if you think you can handle her better, why don’t you join me?”  

Your eyes widened, your breath hitching as Seonghwa’s grip around you tightened, his chest pressing more firmly against your back.  

“Join you?” Seonghwa repeated, his tone deceptively light. “You mean to help her, not overwhelm her, right?”  

San shrugged, his hands roaming up your sides with an air of nonchalance. “Depends on how much help she needs.”  

Seonghwa’s lips brushed your temple as he whispered, “Do you trust me, little one?”  

“Yes,” you breathed, your voice barely audible.  

“Good,” he said, his hands now guiding yours to rest on your thighs, keeping you still. “Let’s remind you how much you’re cared for.”  

San leaned in, his gaze softening just enough to show a flicker of affection beneath his teasing. His hand cupped your jaw, his thumb brushing your cheek. “You’re lucky we’re patient,” he said, though his smirk made it clear he wasn’t entirely serious.  

San’s fingers found the hem of your oversized shirt, his grip impatient as he tugged it over your head. The motion was swift, almost rough, leaving you exposed to the cool air of the room. You gasped softly, instinctively moving to cover yourself, but San’s firm hand stopped you.  

“Ah, ah,” he chided, his dark eyes glittering with authority. “Don’t you dare hide from me.”  

You swallowed hard, your hands falling back to your sides as you trembled under his gaze. His fingers brushed against your skin, cold against the heat that seemed to radiate from you. With deliberate slowness, he reached behind you to unhook your bra, the straps slipping down your shoulders like a whisper.  

Seonghwa, still behind you, caught the discarded garment and leaned down to pick up a delicate, semi-transparent lingerie set that had been neatly laid out on the dresser. His touch was in stark contrast to San’s—gentle, almost reverent, as he guided the soft fabric up your arms.  

“This suits her,” Seonghwa said, his voice low and melodic, as he adjusted the straps on your shoulders with care. The material clung to your body in a way that felt both innocent and intimate, the faint pink hue of the lingerie complementing the flush spreading across your skin.  

San stepped back slightly, his sharp gaze roaming over you, taking in every detail. A low chuckle escaped him as his eyes traveled downward. “Well, well,” he drawled, his voice laced with amusement, “looks like someone’s enjoying herself a little too much.”  

Your face burned as you followed his gaze, horrified to see the evidence of your arousal dampening the linen beneath you.  

“Tell me, kitten,” San teased, kneeling down so his face was level with yours, his smirk growing wider, “is this because of me?” He tilted his head, his voice a mocking coo. “Are you turned on by how rough I am with you?”  

You bit your lip, your body betraying you as another wave of heat pooled in your belly. “Y-Yes,” you admitted, your voice small and shaky, tinged with a whiny neediness you couldn’t control.  

“Of course you are,” San said, his laughter quiet but sharp, as though the answer had only confirmed what he already knew. He leaned in, brushing his lips against your ear as he murmured, “You like being my good little toy, don’t you?”  

Before you could respond, Seonghwa’s warm lips pressed against the back of your neck, trailing down to your shoulders. His movements were slow, deliberate, like he was trying to soothe the trembling mess San had made of you.  

“You’re beautiful,” Seonghwa whispered against your skin, his hands coming to rest gently on your waist. “You don’t have to be afraid, little one. I’ve got you.”  

San stood, his presence still looming even as he moved away. The rustling of fabric drew your attention, and you peeked through lowered lashes to see him unbuttoning his shirt. His movements were unhurried, calculated, the sharp lines of his body coming into view with every undone button.  

“Don’t get too comfortable,” San said, his tone laced with warning as he tossed the shirt aside. “I’m not done with you yet.”  

But even as he spoke, Seonghwa’s soothing touch and soft murmurs anchored you, his lips never ceasing their gentle exploration of your back. The contrast between them—San’s rough edges and Seonghwa’s tender warmth—left you suspended in a whirlwind of sensations, utterly at their mercy.

San's intense gaze darkened as he stepped forward. In one fluid motion, he lifted you effortlessly, his strong arms wrapping around you as though you weighed nothing. A surprised gasp escaped your lips, but San gave you no time to process. He pressed you against the cool wall, the hard surface grounding you against the heat of his body.  

Leaning in, he captured your mouth in a sloppy, possessive kiss, his lips demanding as they moved against yours. His teeth grazed your bottom lip, and his tongue claimed you with a roughness that made your head spin. You whimpered softly into the kiss, your hands clutching at his shoulders as if anchoring yourself to him. His muscular body made you feel to tiny and insignificant in front of him… which you absolutely loved.

Behind you, Seonghwa had risen from the bed. His dark eyes lingered on you, and there was no mistaking the tension in his posture—or the strain evident against the fabric of his pants. 

San broke the kiss, his breath hot against your lips as he spoke. “You’re shaking, kitten,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing. “Is this what you wanted? To feel me like this?”  

Before you could answer, he shifted his hold on you, lowering you slowly against him. The hard line of his arousal pressed into you, even through the layers of fabric separating you, drawing a soft, involuntary whine from your throat.  

“Look at you,” he continued, his tone mocking but laced with something deeper. “You can’t even control yourself, can you?”  

“I…” You tried to form words, but the sensation of him, combined with the lingering warmth of Seonghwa’s gaze, made coherent thought impossible.  

As if sensing your overwhelmed state, Seonghwa stepped closer, his hands resting lightly on your arms before trailing down to your sides. His lips found the sensitive curve of your shoulder, pressing soft kisses there that sent shivers through your body.  

San’s smirk widened as his hand began to wander, sliding down between your legs with deliberate slowness. The anticipation built with every second, your breath hitching as he teased you with light, fleeting touches.  

“You’re so sensitive,” he observed, his tone equal parts amusement and pride. “Does this drive you crazy, kitten?”  

You nodded weakly, your knees threatening to buckle under the combined assault of San’s rough, confident movements and Seonghwa’s tender, reassuring touch.  

San’s fingers pressed inside your cunt more firmly now, the motion drawing soft, breathy sounds from you. “Of course, it does,” he said, his voice a low growl. “You love when I take control, don’t you?”  

“Yes,” you managed to whisper, your voice trembling as the sensations began to overwhelm you.  

San's smirk deepened as he leaned in, his lips latching onto the soft skin of your collarbone. He kissed with purpose, his mouth warm and insistent, leaving behind marks that you knew would bloom into faint bruises later. Each kiss was a deliberate claim, his teeth grazing your skin, tongue soothing over where he’d nipped.  

You gasped, tilting your head instinctively to give him more access, but San wasn’t gentle—he didn’t need to be. His hands gripped your hips firmly, keeping you in place as his lips trailed upwards to the curve of your neck. Each mark he left ignited sparks that coursed through your body, a reminder of his overwhelming presence.  

“Don’t squirm,” San muttered against your skin, his voice low and commanding. His teeth scraped lightly over the sensitive spot just below your ear, making you shudder.  

In your haze, you barely registered the soft rustle of fabric as San’s hand moved lower. With calculated ease, he discarded the last barrier between his body and yours, the subtle shift in his stance making his actions unmistakable.  

Seonghwa’s lips pressed softly to the top of your head, his voice like silk as he whispered, “Breathe, let him take care of you.”  

But San’s idea of care was far from gentle. He straightened, his chest brushing against yours as he tilted your chin up to meet his gaze. His dark eyes burned with intensity, the smirk on his lips equal parts teasing and predatory.  

“You’re mine,” he murmured, his tone rough but quiet, meant only for you. His hands tightened their grip on your hips, holding you securely against him.  

San's hand traveled between your legs and as his fingers found their way to your folds, he pumped them in a couple of times, your head lolling back at the feeling. When he decided that you were prepped enough - which you weren't, but he was damn impatient - he lowered you on his cock, fully thrusting it in.  

“Look at you,” he murmured, his voice low and dripping with mockery. “Barely holding yourself together, aren’t you, kitten?”  

You whimpered softly, your lips parted as you tried to form words, but the overwhelming sensations left you mute.  

“Come on,” San coaxed, his tone sharp yet teasing. “Use your words. What’s the matter? Too much for you already?”  

“D-Daddy…” you managed to whisper, your voice trembling as you gazed up at him, your hands weakly clutching at his shoulders.  

San let out a low chuckle, leaning back just enough to look you over, his smirk widening as he saw the dazed, almost helpless expression on your face. “Daddy, huh?” he repeated mockingly. “You think that’s going to make me go easy on you?”  

Your breath hitched, and you shook your head weakly, earning another sharp laugh from him.  

“That’s what I thought,” he said, his tone dripping with authority. He tilted your chin up with two fingers, forcing you to meet his gaze. “You like this, don’t you? Being so completely at my mercy?”  

You nodded hesitantly, and his smirk grew even more wicked.  

“Say it,” he demanded, his voice taking on a harder edge. “Tell me how much you love it when Daddy takes control.”  

“I-I love it,” you stammered, your voice breaking under the weight of his dominance.  

“Oh, sweetheart,” he cooed, his tone mockingly sweet as he brushed a stray strand of hair from your face. “You’re such a mess for me, aren’t you? Completely ruined, and we’re not even done yet.”  

You whimpered again, your body trembling under his touch.  

“Pathetic,” he said with a smirk, though there was a hint of pride in his voice. “Completely pathetic, and yet you’re still begging for more. Aren’t you?”  

“Yes,” you breathed, your voice barely audible, but he heard it nonetheless.  

San leaned in close, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “Good. Because I’m nowhere near finished with you, kitten.” 

Seonghwa’s quiet observation eventually broke, his low, velvety voice cutting through the room. “What exactly do you have planned for her, San?” he asked, his tone calm and curious, though there was an underlying edge of amusement.  

San didn’t stop, his movements as deliberate and sharp as his personality. His grip tightened on your hips as he responded, his voice coming out in low, ragged breaths between his thrusts. “Oh, I have plans,” he said, his smirk audible even without seeing his face.  

Seonghwa raised a brow, stepping closer now, his own hand still lazily tracing over himself, watching you keenly. “Care to elaborate?”  

San let out a soft chuckle, his breath ghosting against your ear as he answered, “I plan to ruin her.” His words were teasing, almost cruel in their intent. “She’s going to beg for me, for everything. More than she’s ever begged before.”  

Your body trembled at his words, the promise in them sending a fresh wave of tension through you. San leaned down slightly, his lips brushing against your ear as he continued, his voice dropping lower. “And just when she thinks I’ll give her what she wants…” He paused, his grip on you tightening briefly for emphasis. “…I won’t.”  

Seonghwa’s smirk grew, his gaze flicking between you and San with quiet interest. “Cruel, as always,” 

San chuckled again, this time with more satisfaction, his rhythm unrelenting as he added, “She likes it. Don’t you, kitten?”  

Your response was a breathless whimper, your head lolling against San’s shoulder as your body surrendered to the overwhelming mix of sensations. 

“Let’s see how patient are you, my love… are you going to be more patient than I was?” San cooed, holding you close to him as he pulled out and dropped you in the bed powerfully, towering over you. “Let’s see if it was worth being late, darling.” he leaned in for a kiss, then raised your hips above his, letting them rest. 

San’s gaze bore into yours, the stormy intensity in his eyes enough to make your breath hitch. He didn’t move right away, letting the tension stretch thin in the air between you, his hand firm on your hip as he held you in place. His lips, so close to yours, hovered without touching, teasing you with the ghost of a promise.  

“You’ve been testing me all week, haven’t you?” San murmured, his voice a low growl that sent shivers racing down your spine.

He trailed his hand down, the roughness of his palm against your skin a stark contrast to the tenderness of his words. But just as you leaned into him, aching for more, San pulled back slightly, his smirk sharp and deliberate.  

Seonghwa’s soft chuckle reached your ears, his tone laced with amused approval. “You’re relentless, San,” he remarked, though his attention never strayed far from you. There was an edge of curiosity to his voice, as if he was enjoying watching the dynamic unfold.  

San glanced at Seonghwa briefly, his lips quirking in a sly grin before his focus returned to you. “Relentless,” he echoed, his tone filled with dark satisfaction. “But that’s what she likes, isn’t it?” His fingers tightened against your skin just enough to make your pulse quicken. 

You barely managed a breathy response, your body trembling with anticipation. San tilted his head, his lips finally brushing yours in a kiss that was as fleeting as it was intoxicating.  

“Patience, kitten,” he murmured against your lips, his voice low and commanding. “You’ll get what you want... but only when I decide you’ve earned it.”

San’s smirk deepened as he glanced at Seonghwa, his sharp gaze glinting with mischief. “Why don’t you join us?” he murmured, his voice dripping with invitation and challenge. 

Seonghwa hesitated for only a moment, his piercing eyes locking with San’s before sliding down to meet yours. There was something almost reverent in his expression as he moved closer, his hand brushing over your arm to guide you gently yet firmly.  

“Lean back,” Seonghwa instructed softly, his voice a rich contrast to San’s rough edges. His hands guided you until you were resting against him, his firm chest a solid support behind you. His thighs framed yours, his presence grounding you even as your heart raced.  

San hummed approvingly, his smirk never faltering as he knelt between your legs, his gaze intense as it roamed over you. “Perfect,” he muttered, his hands tracing up your thighs with deliberate slowness, his touch a stark contrast to Seonghwa’s steady, grounding hold.  

Seonghwa’s fingers brushed over your shoulders, his breath warm against your temple as he murmured, “Relax, love.” The soothing timbre of his voice made it impossible not to sink into him, even as San’s movements sent sparks racing through you.  

San’s lips found your thighs, his kisses starting feather-light before growing more deliberate. His chin grazed your skin as he nipped at the sensitive flesh, each touch both a tease and a promise. He looked up at you, his dark eyes meeting yours as he whispered, “I’ll make sure you don’t forget this.”  

Your breath hitched as Seonghwa’s hands slid down your arms, his grip firm yet reassuring. “Breathe,” he murmured, his voice steady, as though coaxing you to surrender completely to the moment.  

San’s lips moved closer to your cunt, but he paused just before reaching where you wanted him most, his smirk widening at your involuntary whimper. “Not so fast, kitten,” he teased, his voice a rough purr. “I’m just getting started.”

When his mouth finally started to suck on your clit, a sharp gasp escaped you, your back arching instinctively against Seonghwa’s chest. San didn’t hold back, his lips moving with deliberate, hungry intent as he ate you out, sending shockwaves through your entire body.  

His roughness was intoxicating, every motion designed to pull you deeper into the haze he was creating. He groaned softly against you, the vibration adding an unexpected layer of pleasure that made you tremble.  

Seonghwa’s breath hitched behind you, his hard cock, undeniable where you were pressed against him. His hands gripped your hips, steadying you as you writhed under San’s relentless attention. “You’re driving her mad,” Seonghwa murmured, his voice thick with something between awe and desire.  

San pulled back just enough to respond, his lips glistening as he looked up at you with a wicked grin. “That’s the point,” he said, his voice rough with satisfaction. Without waiting for a reply, he delved back in, his tongue pressing against you with a roughness that had your fingers clawing at Seonghwa’s thighs for purchase.  

Every flick, every deliberate drag of San’s tongue against your clit, sent you spiraling further. He alternated between sucking on it and licking with a ferocity that made it impossible to hold still. Seonghwa’s grip tightened on you as if anchoring you to reality, his lips brushing your temple in an attempt to soothe the chaos San was stirring within you.  

“You’re so responsive,” San rasped against you between movements, his tone full of pride and teasing affection. “Just look at you… falling apart already.”  

You could barely process his words, the sensations too overwhelming, too consuming. The heat of Seonghwa’s body behind you and the rough, unrelenting intensity of San in front of you created a heady mix that left you utterly at their mercy.  

San abruptly pulled back, his lips glistening, leaving you teetering on the edge of your orgasm. The sudden absence of his touch was a shock, and you whimpered, your hips instinctively tilting forward to chase the sensation. His smirk was devastatingly smug as he leaned back on his knees, wiping the corner of his mouth with a thumb.  

“Not yet, kitten,” he drawled, his voice thick with command. “I told you, you don’t get to have it until I decide you’ve earned it.” His gaze flickered up to yours, dark and unyielding.  

You shook your head, defiance flickering through the haze of desire. “N-no,” you murmured, a stubborn edge creeping into your voice, even as your body trembled with need.  

San chuckled darkly, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. “No?” he repeated, his tone mocking, his grin widening as though you’d just issued him a delightful challenge. “How adorable. You think you’re in control here?”  

He reached out, his hand gripping your chin firmly, tilting your face toward him as he loomed closer. “Say it again,” he commanded softly, his tone laced with dangerous amusement.  

Before you could respond, San turned to Seonghwa, his voice shifting to a calm authority. “Seonghwa, get undressed and take her.”  

Seonghwa nodded without hesitation, his movements smooth and fluid as he stripped off his shirt and then his pants. Unlike San’s intensity, there was a softness to him, a gentler energy that eased the tension coursing through you.  

“Come here,” Seonghwa murmured, his hands reaching for you as he effortlessly lifted you onto his lap. His touch was steady, his hands warm and soothing against your skin. Seated against him, his bare chest pressing into your back, the stark contrast between his tenderness and San’s roughness was grounding.  

San sat back on his heels, watching with a smirk that told you he wasn’t done playing with you yet. “Let’s see if she behaves better for you,” he teased, his tone dripping with dominance as his eyes stayed locked on yours. “But don’t go too soft, Hwa. She needs to learn what happens when she tries to defy me.”  

Seonghwa shifted beneath you, his hands steady on your hips as he aligned himself with your hole. His lips brushed against your shoulder, soft and reassuring, a stark contrast to the tension crackling in the air. “Relax for me, love,” he murmured, his voice calm yet filled with anticipation.  

San, seated to the side, leaned back slightly, his hand lazily stroking himself, cock dripping with precum as his sharp eyes stayed glued to the scene in front of him. “That’s it, Hwa,” he purred.“Show her how gentle can still make her squirm.”  

Seonghwa’s movements were slow, deliberate, as though savoring every second of the moment. You shuddered at the sensation, your body caught between his tenderness and San’s burning gaze. San’s breath hitched audibly, a low groan escaping him as he watched, the sight clearly fueling his own pleasure.  

“You look so pretty like this,” San teased, his voice dripping with dominance. “Caught between us… exactly where you’re meant to be.”

Seonghwa’s pace grew more measured, his lips grazing your ear as he whispered, “You’re doing so well.” His fingers pressed into your hips, grounding you, his every movement pulling you closer to the edge. Your body trembled, anticipation building as you surrendered to the steady rhythm he set.  

Just as the high began to crest, San’s voice cut through the haze. “Stop.”  

The word was sharp, commanding, and immediate. Seonghwa stilled instantly, his hands retreating as he pulled out, leaving you gasping and teetering on the brink.  

“No, please,” you begged, turning your desperate gaze to San. “Don’t stop now. Let me—please, I need to—”  

San leaned forward, his eyes gleaming with amusement as he brushed his fingers along your cheek. “Need to?” he mused, his tone deceptively soft. “That’s rich, coming from someone who spent all week defying me. Do you think you’ve earned the right to finish?”  

You shook your head, swallowing the lump of frustration and desire in your throat. “I’ll do better, I swear.”  

San smirked, his hand tangling in your hair as he guided you to kneel on the edge of the bed. “You’ll prove that now,” he said smoothly, his thumb grazing your lower lip. “Open up.”  

You obeyed, lips parting as he slid himself past them, his cock heavy on your tongue. San’s groan was low, a sound of satisfaction as his hand held you steady. “Good girl,” he murmured, his hips rolling forward just enough to test your limits.  

Behind you, the bed shifted as Seonghwa moved into position, his hands caressing your waist before sliding lower, his warmth against you unmistakable. “Seonghwa… fuck her” San instructed, his voice deepening. “I want her to feel you stretch her out while she sucks me off”  

Seonghwa hummed in acknowledgment, his lips brushing the nape of your neck as he moved against you, his presence filling the space San had left. 

San tilted your chin up slightly, his movements patient but firm. “Keep your eyes on me,” he said, his voice a gentle command. “I want to see how much you enjoy this. How much you’re willing to give.”  

Your muffled whine vibrated against San’s cock as you tried to keep your focus, but the overwhelming combination of sensations was too much to bear. 

San smirked, clearly noticing your struggle, and his grip in your hair tightened slightly, tilting your head for better leverage. “You’re distracted,” he growled. “Let me help you focus.”  

Without warning, San thrust his hips forward, sliding himself deeper into your throat. The sudden intrusion made you gag, your throat tightening reflexively around him as your hands gripped his thighs for stability. San groaned low and deep, the sound vibrating through the room.  

“Look at you,” he murmured, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “Taking me so well, even when you’re choking on it. Maybe you’re learning after all.”  

Behind you, Seonghwa’s hands on your hips tightened, his movements stuttering as he felt your body react to San’s forcefulness. Your whimper against San’s cock sent a shiver through Seonghwa, but he stilled himself, obeying the unspoken command to pause until San decided you’d earned more.  

Your throat burned as San held himself deep, his hand flexing against the back of your head, keeping you exactly where he wanted. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you didn’t dare pull away. His dominance was intoxicating, even in its intensity.  

When San finally relented, pulling back just enough to let you gasp for air, his thumb stroked your cheek. “Not bad,” he mused, tilting his head. “But you’re not there yet.”  

Seonghwa’s soft whisper reached your ear, grounding you as your chest heaved. “You’re doing so well,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your shoulder.  

San’s sharp gaze flicked to Seonghwa, and he gave a single, measured nod. “Now.”  

Seonghwa didn’t need further instruction. He resumed his movements, his hips rolling forward in a rhythm that made your toes curl. His groan was soft, almost reverent, as he leaned closer, his chest pressed against your back.  

San’s grip in your hair loosened slightly, guiding you back to him. “You’re going to make up for every moment you disobeyed this week,” he said, his voice low and commanding. “And if you’re good enough, maybe—just maybe—I’ll let you finish this time.” 

“M-ngh, San!” your moan revrebrating through his cock. You steadied yourself and held onto his hips, catching your breath as Seonghwa started to fully thrust into you again. 

“What?” he stopped for a second. 

You pulled off San, tears streaming down your cheeks, voice trembling and high-pitched, “Please, San, please! I can’t—please don’t stop again—I need it so bad, I’m begging you!”  

San, gripping your jaw firmly, forcing you to look up at him, his eyes sharp and unyielding, “You’re begging now? After everything this week? After all the times you ignored me, pushed me, defied me?” he lets out a low, mocking laugh, “And now you think whining like this will get you what you want?”  

“I’ll do anything—anything! I swear! Just don’t stop again, please, please!” you begged abd begged, looking up at him in the eyes.

He brushed his thumb over your trembling lips, “Anything, huh? You’re pathetic, you know that? Look at you—crying, shaking, acting like you have no control. But fine. You want a chance? Let’s make a deal.”  

“Yes—yes! Anything..."

“Then.. you’ve got two minutes to make me finish. Two minutes. If you can do that, maybe, just maybe, I’ll let you finish, too. But if you fail? You’ll go the rest of the night without cumming. Do you understand me?”  

"Y-yes...yes!" you whined out.

“Good. Then stop wasting time and prove to me you’re worth it.”  San then grabbed you by your hair, tangling his head and pulling you harshly to his cock.

You position yourself between San’s legs, wasting no time as your hand wraps firmly around his base. Without hesitation, you take his cock into your mouth, deep and fast, like it’s the only thing you’ve ever needed. The warmth and wetness make him groan immediately, his head tilting back as he struggles to keep up with the sheer intensity of your actions.  

Your lips tighten around him, sliding down as far as you can go, your tongue pressing firmly against the underside, hitting the sensitive spots that makes his thighs tense. You don’t hold back..  your movements are fast, relentless, and filled with purpose. Your hand follows where your mouth leaves off, stroking him with a slick, twisting motion, matching the rhythm as your head bobs in a steady, fervent pace.  

You hollow your cheeks, creating a tight suction that pulls another deep groan from him, his hands gripping your hair as his control slips. The sounds you make are shamelessly messy—wet, eager, and desperate—as you take him in deeper with every motion, your throat flexing to handle more.  

His breathing is ragged now, his hips shifting, but you keep control, doubling down as you focus on the sensitive head, swirling your tongue around it in quick, firm strokes before sliding down again, taking him to the base, choking on the tip. You whine softly, the vibrations sending a jolt through him, his voice breaking as he whines out, his body tightening.  

“Ah, fuck… “ he moaned out, his back lolling back in pleasure. 

Let's not forget that Seonghwa was fucking you relentlessly from behind, your walls clenching onto him as he gripped your waist. He was close, you knew it. Breaths ragged near your ear and his hands were holding tight on your skin, but you needed to focus on San… Seonghwa would cum by himself only by fucking you. But San.. oh god, he'd always destroy you before his pleasure. 

“Just like that, kitten..” he said and gripped his hands better in your hair, pulling you as close as possible. Your nose hit his pelvis, throat sore and gagging on his cock. He stood like that for a couple of moments and thrusted slightly even deeper, to which he came right down your throat. You choked on his huge load and pulled back, his cock resting in your tongue as silky white cum was still dripping heavily from the tip. When he was done, he pulled back and lifted your chin, to make you look at him.

“Swallow. Everything.” you did as told and then as he hummed in satisfaction. 

“Now now… Seonghwa, would you mind switching places? Your thrusts are not roug enough, I'm afraid…” San said and lifted you up. In one swift motion he sat you onto his lap, your chest against his. 

Seonghwa’s hands slid down your back as he stepped behind you, his movements deliberate and steady. His grip settled firmly on your hips, fingers splaying over your flushed skin before drifting lower to your ass. He kneaded the soft flesh with a firm but gentle touch, his lips grazing the back of your neck in contrast to San’s unrelenting dominance.

San, already seated with you straddling his lap, tightened his hold on your waist. His fingers pressed into the soft, reddened skin, a mark of his earlier fervor. His eyes burned into yours as he shifted slightly, his voice low and commanding. “Don’t forget who you’re really here for,” he growled, his tone sending shivers down your spine.

With a single, precise motion, San thrust into you fully, his body melding with yours as a broken cry escaped your lips. Seonghwa, aligning himself carefully, followed suit, his movements smoother but no less intense. The contrast between them was electrifying—San’s rough, possessive thrusts pairing with Seonghwa’s controlled rhythm to drive you higher, the two of them moving in tandem as if sharing one unspoken goal.  

San tilted your chin up with one hand, his lips brushing against yours briefly before he spoke. “You’re doing so well, kitten,” he murmured, though his words carried a teasing edge. “But you’re not done yet.”  

Seonghwa groaned behind you, his fingers digging into your skin as his thrusts became sharper, his restraint slipping. The three of you moved in perfect synchronicity, the overwhelming sensations building rapidly until you could no longer hold back. Your cries filled the room as the tension snapped, your body trembling violently as the release overtook you.  

Seonghwa followed closely, his grip tightening as he buried himself fully, his soft groan of pleasure vibrating against your shoulder. He kissed the back of your neck tenderly, his breath warm against your skin, a grounding contrast to the whirlwind you were caught in.  

But San wasn’t finished. His grip on your waist grew firmer as he quickened his pace, chasing his own high even as your overstimulated body quivered against him. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as he pushed you further, your senses overwhelmed.  

“That’s it,” he growled, his voice rough with satisfaction as his movements became erratic. “Give me everything.”  

With one final, deep thrust, San found his release, his second high hitting him harder than the first. The intensity of the moment pushed you over the edge again, a sudden, powerful wave washing over you as your body reacted uncontrollably. You gasped as the sensation hit, your body trembling as you squirted, the overstimulation wringing every last drop of energy from you.  

San held you close, his hands firm but steady as he rode out his high, his breath ragged against your neck. “Perfect,” he murmured finally, his tone softening as he kissed your temple. 

As Seonghwa finally pulled out, a soft groan leaving his lips, he shifted to gather you into his arms. His movements were gentle, cradling you as though you were made of glass, his lips pressing against your temple with quiet affection. “You did so well,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing.  

San leaned forward, his hand stroking down your back in deliberate, slow motions. A light pat followed, though it carried a teasing edge as he smirked. “Let this be a lesson, kitten,” he said, his tone playful yet firm. “If you ever decide to test me like that again… this is exactly what will happen. Only next time, I won’t go so easy on you.”  

You gave a soft whimper of acknowledgment, too exhausted to do much else, and Seonghwa chuckled behind you. “You’re relentless, San,” he said, though his words carried a fond amusement. His gaze flicked between you and San. “She needs some care now, not another lecture. Why don’t you take her to get cleaned up?”  

San hummed, his grin softening just a fraction as he leaned in to press a kiss against your damp hair. “Fair enough,” he replied before slipping his arms around you, seamlessly lifting you from Seonghwa’s hold and pulling you against his chest. His grip was firm yet comforting, holding you close as he stood.  

“You were perfect today, kitten,” San murmured, his tone uncharacteristically tender as he carried you toward the bathroom. His fingers traced gentle patterns against your back as he continued, “Every second of it. You have no idea how proud I am of you.”  

The warmth of his words and his embrace cocooned you, easing the lingering tension in your body. As San carried you, you caught Seonghwa’s soft smile in the corner of your vision, his quiet presence a steady reassurance even as exhaustion began to pull you under.

NETWORKS: @blossomnet @illusionnet

PERMANENT TAGLIST: @mingleshine @musiclovingfairy @crazylittlebisexual @sanhwalvr @arki-sha @artistic-rendition @hongjoongtime117 @cypher-03 @peachy-bell26 @atiny1

[seokgyuu]

→ GENRE: smut, college au, crack, → PAIRING: Vernon x Afab!Fem!Reader (Feat. Soonyoung x Afab!Fem!Reader & Chan x Afab!Fem!Reader) → SYNOPSIS: you have never been a person who turns down a challenge, but when your best friend challenges you to hook up with 13 boys in one semester you kind of wish you were.

→ WARNINGS: angst in this chapter, shower sex, unprotected sex (you know... that's just who she is, like fr, all of the sex in this is unprotected), cumming in pants (m), virgin!vernon, cum eating, angry sex, usage of the words "baby", "princess", dirty talk, Mommy!Kink (Vernon)

→WORD COUNT: 13k

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A/N: Merry Christmas everyone! Or happy holidays for those of you who don't celebrate! For this year I thought I'd give you a treat in the form of a new chapter of everyone's favorite shit show, lmao. We are actually nearing the end - only one more chapter left of the regular scheduled content aka after next chapter every single member of svt got his own time to shine (some even... more than once). I honestly don't know how this happened, this was supposed to be a funny little smut fest and now it's literally almost 100k words of filth and drama. Thank you for reading this and sticking by it for the past 3 years! I also want to thank @bitchlessdino for betaing this chapter <3 And now enjoy the ride!

Also: I opened a ko-fi! If any of you want to support me through that, I would be extremely thankful! If not that is also completely fine of course! Remember that reblogs and asks is what keeps us as a writing community going, so please, if you like my work consider reblogging with feedback <3. Happy holidays!

taglist:  @ariachavez168, @sandcasltes, @amiga-qmilagraso, @learnthisfeeling, @cersti-mo0, @nixtape-foryou, @minahoeshi, @listxn, @starlight-night0, @havetaeminforbreakfast, @kwonranghae, @haogyuslut, @a-dramatic-girl, @lovercuff, @grapefruithan, @whyokoa, @lovercheol, @cosmicupoftea, @knucklesdeepmingi, @wonusworldd, @baldi-2, @seventeencaratworld, @kingalls00, @1-800-jeonwonwoo, @hoeforhao, @p-dwiddle-blog, @tsukimiyuukun, @urfavtallgirl222, @jordand2012, @lcvejordyn, @jeanjacketjesus, @gaebestie, @hara-98-fan, @human-wthout-dreams, @eburneon, @xiusmarshmallow, @spbrax, @speaknowlwt, @lvlyjisung @yogurttea, @novalpha, @woo8hao, @hgma @akemiixx01, @volitina @haoxiaoba @justhere4kpop @ohmygodwhyareallusernamestaken, @miriamxsworld, @lexix001, @avyskai @punkhazardlaw, @lostmembrane, @magicshop1913 @tigerhoshii You can join the taglist here. If you're user is crossed out, I was not able to tag you!

The whole thing was like a blur. One second you were in the car with Seungcheol, the next you were outside, hearing your best friend yell at you. Her whole face was red, her eyes wide and her mouth moving as the worst insults left her lips. The worst thing was, you couldn’t even be mad at her. You couldn’t even be offended because she was right.

Her brother tried to calm her down, but the look she gave him made even Seungcheol back down. In all your years of friendship with Jiwoo, you had never seen her this mad. She suddenly looked way taller than she actually was, taller than Seungcheol, taller than your apartment complex. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” She now asked for the nth time and you once again didn’t know how to respond.

“Jiwoo, I-,”

“You really couldn’t see the very clear invisible boundary that you’re not supposed to fuck my brother?”

“How can it be clear when it’s invisible?” You responded without giving it much thought. Jiwoo’s head turned even redder and Seungcheol sighed, closing his eyes as he let his head fall to look at his shoes.

“Oh my god, you know what I mean! Y/N, you can’t seriously think it’s okay to sleep with my brother behind my back!” 

“I never- fuck, Jiwoo, I’m sorry, okay? I really- I didn’t plan for this to happen. After the first time I really wanted to end it, but-,”

“The first time?!” Jiwoo gasped and you noticed your mistake too late. Seungcheol rubbed a hand over his face, stepping closer again, wanting to get in between you two.

“Jiwoo-yah, please, don’t make this a bigger deal than it is.”

“A big deal you say? You mean as big of a deal as you made it when you found out I slept with Taehyung one time?”

Seungcheol’s jaw tightened. You looked between him and his sister, chewing on your bottom lip. There really wasn’t anything for you to say to make this any less bad. You had betrayed her trust, had lied about who you had slept with when you had actually slept with Seungcheol. You had been avoiding her, having Soonyoung be something like a freaking owl between you. Sighing, you pulled a hand through your hair.

“You’re right, I did cross a boundary. I- I should have told you and I shouldn’t have avoided you. I am sorry, Jiwoo, I truly am.” 

She turned back to you, her eyes still full of fire, no sign of forgiveness. Seungcheol looked over at you too, his gaze unsure. 

“Can you promise that it won’t happen again?”

The silence that followed the question, even if it only lasted a few seconds, spoke more than any of your words could have.

Jiwoo snorted, shaking her head.

“You know what, go right ahead. I should have known at one point you would do just about anything to finish this stupid challenge. You never respected any fucking boundaries, you slept with Soonyoung when I told you I wanted to, you slept with Wonwoo even when you already knew he had feelings for you. You don’t care about anyone but yourself, Y/N, you just want to win, prove yourself to whoever the fuck. Most certainly not to me because if that was the case you wouldn’t have fucked my god damn brother!”

Without waiting for an answer, Jiwoo turned around and stormed off, most probably to her car. You couldn’t move even a single muscle. It was as if she had pushed you right off the edge of all the anxiety you had been feeling these past weeks. As much as you felt like crying, you couldn’t. 

“She-”, Seungcheol’s voice seemed distant, even though he was right next to you. Perhaps you were now stuck in your own little bubble, far, far away from everyone, only close to yourself and the knowledge you had hurt the one person who meant most to you. 

“She didn’t mean it, Y/N, she is just angry right now.” His hands were on your shoulders and as soft as his touch was, as much did it burn. You shook your head.

“No, she is right. I don’t respect boundaries, I- I forget about them, I just do whatever I feel like doing. I- god, I slept with Seokmin today, right outside your office, all for you to hear, I- I made you angry, I manipulate people, I-,”

“No, don’t do this,” Seungcheol interrupted you, “you don’t get to make yourself feel worse. I told you to sleep with Seokmin. Hell, I told you to sleep with three people to get this challenge over with.”

He wanted to make you feel better, you knew that. He wanted for you to not spiral and fall into a whole of self pity and self hatred but it was too late. You were already there.

“I need to go, I need to- I need to be alone, okay?” You ignored the hurt in his eyes, the obvious need to hold you close, to comfort you. Right now, you couldn’t. Acting like you hadn’t just lost your best friend of years and years, acting like you hadn’t been a horrible person, that all of the things she said hadn’t been right. 

Without saying another word, you turned away from Cheol and walked to your complex, typing in the code and finally letting the tears fall freely. 

-

A week went by. A week filled with nothing but you and your self pity as well as self hatred that made you turn off your phone and cry into your pillow for as long as you could before all of your tears dried out. You had done this to yourself - all of it. If you had done what you had known was right, none of this would be happening right now. Jiwoo would still speak to you and perhaps you could have seen Mingyu again, could have spent hours just forgetting about that stupid challenge and feel like you had any other purpose than this. It was silly really, how much this had changed your life. If for better or worse… debatable. Right now it was definitely worse. 

On Saturday Soonyoung decided it was done though. Your pity-party had to come to an end. Jiwoo had told him all about your fight and when she had read on his face that he had known about you and Seungcheol, she had called him an asshole and left. So, now he was here, 8 pm sharp at your door, banging on your door and almost gasping in shock when he saw the state you were in. Your hair was greasy and your eyes swollen, the clothes you were wearing had probably been on your frame for more than just a few days and judging by the way you were holding a bucket of ice cream pressed against your chest, you probably hadn’t had any real food in god knows how long.

“Y/N…,” Soonyoung sighed and you rolled your eyes.

“What are you doing here? Isn’t my not answering any calls enough hints that I don’t want to talk or see anyone?”

“How do you know I called you when your phone is off, hm?” Without waiting for you to answer and completely ignoring your complaints, he squeezed into your apartment and closed the door behind him, the grin on his face almost scaring you.

“We’re going to a party, babes,” he then said and you laughed, getting your spoon out of the pocket of your sweats, ready to dip it back into the cookie dough ice cream. Soonyoung gasped for real now, grabbing the spoon out of your hands and shaking his head.

“Abso-fucking-lutely not, Y/N. Go take a shower. Maybe even two, for Christ’s sake. And then, I don’t know, look in the mirror and try a smile.” 

His words made heat rush to your cheeks and you found yourself scratching the back of your head as you slowly made your way to the bathroom not even sure how he managed to change your mind so quickly. But perhaps a shower wasn’t such a bad idea. Showers always helped to make you feel better after a hard time and if this wasn’t a hard time you didn’t know what was. 

So, standing in the bathroom, a soft towel pressed against your naked body, you chewed on your bottom lip and finally stepped into the shower, towel set aside on the toilet seat. The second warm water started running down your body, the tension of the past days seemed to finally leave your body. You didn’t feel as sore anymore, as sad, as useless. Less like the worst human on this planet, who didn’t care about anyone but herself. Your eyes flew open, seeing only the already wet tiles staring back at you. The sound of the water hitting the floor mixed with the blood rushing in your head gave you a sense of steadiness as well as made you feel like you were about to pass out. Tears were about to well up again, tears you were sure had already grown tired of leaving your body. 

“No crying in the shower, you hear me?” Soonyoung’s voice echoed through the door and you felt the sob in your throat turn to a choked laugh, your head turning to the door. An idea popped into your head. Clearing your throat, you slowly moved the glass door to the side.

“Soonyoung?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you…want to join me?” 

The silence only lasted for a few seconds before you heard something like a thump noise and the door opening around ten seconds later. There he stood, Soonyoung, in his naked glory a big grin on his face as he stepped under the shower, your back hitting the wall you had stared at just a few seconds before.

“To what do I owe the honor?” He asked, his hands creeping around your waist. You shrugged.

“I thought you wanted to help me get my mind of things?”

“And that's how to do it?” He asked, smirking. 

“We can shower together, make out a little…,” your hands moved up his torso, stopping at the sides of his neck, tongue licking over your lips, “maybe more… we’ll see.”

No further words were exchanged when he dipped down to kiss you, one hand on your cheek, the other on your hip, his already half hard cock pressing against your stomach as you let your arms wrap fully around him. Your eyes closed as you let him lead the kiss, his tongue now devouring yours, every touch of his setting you on fire, giving you new energy. You let every bad thought leave your body, instead let him enter it - metaphorically as well as physically. His fingers made you arch your back and his lips sucked softly on your nipples, and when he finally sunk into you, his cock stretching you out as good as it had back then, it seemed as if you had never felt anything bad ever in your life. 

“God, not gonna lie, missed your tight little cunt, baby,” he breathed against your ear, your legs wrapped around him, teeth sunken into your bottom lip as you let him fuck you into your wall, droplets of water running down both of your bodies, his cock hitting the perfect spot over and over until he made you cum, your moans echoeing through the room like a song he could never get enough of. He pulled out of you, jerking himself off as he kissed you hard, his seed soon getting washed away with the rest of the metaphorical dirt you had felt on your body for days. 

After, Soonyoung helped you pick out an outfit for the party, comfortably seated on your bed, his legs crossed and his face red from the shower. He was seriously adorable. 

“I like the black dress, it’s super sexy,” he said as you were holding up said black and a rosy pink dress. You pursed your lips and nodded, hanging the pink dress back into the closet and walking over to the mirror, holding the black dress against your frame. It was tight, but didn’t show any cleavage with its almost turtleneck-like cut. Was this what you were going for? Sexy? You clicked your tongue and turned back around, placing the dress on the bed before slipping into some underwear that wasn’t necessarily extremely sexy but also sexy enough for anyone to see (if you somehow managed to score in your current mindset). 

“Where are we going by the way?” You asked Soonyoung now and the man shrugged, grabbing his phone.

“Not too sure, actually. Like I know where it is, but that’s about all the information I got from my source.”

“Your “source”? What are you?  An investigative journalist?” You chuckled and Soonyoung grinned at you, eyes on you instead of his phone for a short while. 

“Maybe.” 

Laughing, you finally slip on the dress and walk over to the mirror again, eyeing yourself cautiously. Yes, this was good. This made you look hot and also sophisticated, made you feel confident and less like a failure. You smiled. Soonyoung had a good eye for dresses, apparently.

When you finished applying your make-up and Soonyoung had also gotten ready, you found yourself in the backseat of a cab, not paying much attention to where you were going as you were busy finally turning your phone back on, Soonyoungs portable charger plugged into it. Anxiety rushed through you, when the lock screen lit up and was flooded with countless notifications once you had typed in your pin-code. Missed calls from Mingyu, Seungcheol and Soonyoung. Messages from all of them, as well, plus a group chat for a project you had completely forgotten about. Your friend next to you eyed you worriedly.

“Perhaps you should have done that tomorrow.” He scolded you, snatching the phone from your hands to lock it and shove it in the pocket of his oversized denim jacket. You pouted, crossing your arms before looking out the window. Seoul passed by your eyes, lights everywhere and you noticed how much you had actually missed leaving the house. The last time you had been this upset, it had also resolved around Jiwoo. But back then, it had ended well, the two of you had found your way back, mayhaps even stronger than before. But this? You weren’t so sure you could come back. It shouldn’t be as big of a deal as it was, you thought. So what, you slept with her brother? He was his own person! He could make his own decisions! Fine, you lied to her about it. Lied for weeks and weeks. You felt small again, suddenly, wondering if you even deserved Jiwoo to ever forgive you for betraying her like this. Her words still stung and you knew that while she was angry, being that mean hadn’t been fair. 

“We’re here!” Soonyoung grinned at you, handing the cab-driver his card and thanking him, before opening the door and helping you out, your hand in his. When your feet touched the ground, the door closing behind you, you finally took in the surroundings. And felt yourself almost falling right into Soonyoung’s chest. 

“Tell me, god fucking hell, Soonyoung, tell me that this is not the house the party is at.”

Soonyoung blinked, his arm wrapped around your waist to steady you after you had almost tripped.

“Uh… it’s not?” He tried, but judging by the way he said it, you knew it wasn’t true. You closed your eyes. Pinched the bridge of your nose.

“Soonyoung-ah,” you start, “was your source Joshua?”

Silence. Soonyoung stays fucking silent. You feel heat arise within you and it’s not the kind you had felt earlier when you had asked him to join you in the shower. It’s anger, fueled by Soonyoung’s carelessness and his obvious stupidity. Bringing you to a party at Joshua’s place? Joshua who was roommates with Mingyu? Mingyu, who you had been ignoring for the past week, who had called you and texted you, the only thing missing was him barging through your door! 

“I’m sorry! See, I thought you would never go if you knew!”

“Well, you’re correct! Do you know how many of them will be there? Haven’t I been through enough already?!” You slapped his shoulder and Soonyoung winced, holding the spot with wide eyes.

“Oh, come on! I get it, alright? You fucked it up with Jiwoo. Jesus, so did I!”

Now it’s you who blinked at him, confused.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, did you forget that she also has to fuck people? A significantly lower number than you, yes, but still! And, well- I was one of them.”

It didn’t surprise you, not really. But it still made something inside you sting.

“And why did you fuck it up with her?” You asked quietly. Soonyoung sighed.

“When I heard about your fight I took your side. I told her that there are worse things than you sleeping with her brother. That, even though I understand it sucks that you lied to her, it wasn’t like you killed someone, or did something illegal. You just slept with him!”

Yeah, and kind of gave him hope there would be more. After the challenge. You pressed your lips together. 

“But, well, Jiwoo didn’t like it. And she kind of guessed that I knew about it.”

“You like her, don’t you?” You found yourself asking him the second he finished his sentence, catching him off guard. He cleared his throat, fixing the collar on his jacket.

“It’s not that I didn’t like her, Y/N. But she went completely nuts over this, so out of character. I was confused and hurt that she threw this at me, that she said I owed it to her. As if because we were seeing each other casually, mind you, she still had other people to fuck, I suddenly became only hers and not your friend.”

They were seeing each other. Your stomach dropped and you felt like you were about to actually pass out.

“You were seeing her? And you still- you still had sex with me today?!”

“Woah, okay, I see how this can be confusing, but, Y/N, it was never serious. It wasn’t exclusive. We slept together a couple of times and had a few dates, but that’s it! I’m pretty sure I saw you more than her.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You watched his face, saw the way his eyes shift, how the wheels turn behind them and something told you, that you probably already knew the answer. You decided to stay silent.

“I just- I don’t know, I really don’t know.”

It was a lie, but neither of you exposed it as such. 

-

You ended up inside anyway. Fleeing from whatever was going on with Soonyoung, you were in desperate need of a drink. The familiar space was packed with people - courtesy of the apartment being big enough to hold that many. In addition to Mingyu’s room and the bathroom, there was a relatively big kitchen, a living space and, of course, Joshua’s room. The doors to the bedrooms were closed and upon seeing Mingyu’s, you felt guilt and shame creep up your spine. He was here somewhere, maybe drinking, maybe kissing another girl. And if that last thing turned out to be true, you knew you couldn’t even be mad at him. You had basically abandoned him for a week. After he had proven to be incredibly sweet and understanding, you had decided to just ignore him, to leave him in the dark, to forget all about him. 

While you did see a few familiar faces (Seungkwan was chatting with Minghao in the kitchen and Jun was downing a bottle of vodka with a guy you didn’t know), Mingyu was nowhere to be seen. Only when you reached the living room did you spot one one of the hosts. Joshua was wearing a tight dark blue turtle-neck and perfectly fitting black slacks, his hair was up and only a few strands fell into his remarkable face. He spotted you right as you walked through the door, a hint of surprise on his face. He excused himself to the girl he was talking to and walked over to you, eyebrow raised.

“Y/N,” he said, “you’re alive.”

You deserved that. Maybe not from him, but in general. You cleared your throat.

“Seems like it.”

“Where were you? I had to physically restrict Mingyu from running to your place countless times.”

Your heart dropped once more on this night. Heat erupted on your face and you let your head drop for just a second, before looking back up at the man who had been the one to start off this stupid challenge.

“I was at home. I… wasn’t feeling too well. Is Mingyu here?”

Joshua didn’t seem too pleased with your answer, but decided to not pester you any further. Instead, he shook his head as he crossed his arms.

“Not yet. He is getting more drinks. Speaking of, should we get you one?” 

You followed Joshua back to the kitchen, Soonyoung somewhere lost in the crowd, apparently. After your little talk, he had excused himself to the bathroom first thing and if you were being honest, you weren’t too keen on seeing him right now anyway. You let Joshua mix you a drink, thanking him with a more or less honest smile when he handed it to you. He himself took a sip from the fresh bottle of beer he had taken for himself out of the fridge, eyeing you over it now.

“Mingyu told me about the challenge.”

You almost dropped your cup. 

“He did what?”

“Ah, don’t be mad at him. He kind of tells me everything, you know,” Joshua’s smug smile made you want to punch him in the face. You decided against it mainly because causing a scene wasn’t on your to do list tonight. Neither was talking to Joshua, though. Still, here you were. 

“So, does this mean I was number one?” Jesus Christ, you rolled your eyes.

“Yes. And that’s the only number one you’ll ever be in my book.”

“Ouch.” He was still grinning. Even more than before. How on earth could he have played the part as the cute and innocent barista so well, when in reality he was nothing but a cocky fuck boy? It was official: you needed to get away from him asap. But when you turned, you suddenly felt like your feet had been glued to the ground because why the fuck was Vernon walking into the kitchen right then and there?

He saw you the same time you did and the look on his face was a mixture of shock and confusion. It had been weeks since the… incident at Mr. Choi’s office and while he hadn’t seen you in the flesh since then, he sure as hell had thought of you. His cheeks began burning when he saw the suspicion in your eyes and when you came over to him and his two friends, he literally felt like all of his wet dreams and fantasies about you were suddenly out on display. 

“Did Seungcheol send you?” Was the first thing you said to him and poor, poor Vernon could only shake his silly head and point at Hyunggu and Seungyoun over his shoulder with a shaking hand.

“N-No, I came with my friends.” You followed where he was pointing with your eyes and the two young men behind him waved at you rather confusedly. You clicked your tongue and nodded, turning back to look at Vernon. 

Vernon, who was out of the usual suit you had seen him in before. He was wearing a dark t-shirt and dark jeans, a necklace adjourning his slim upper body. His hair was messy, but a good kind of messy, that kind of messy you wanted to claw your hands into. Taking a sip from your drink, you contemplated. Seeing Vernon here, out of all places, seemed almost too much of a nudge in his direction. When Seungcheol hadn’t been the one to send him here and it was pure coincidence, didn’t this mean something? As much as it had bothered you that Seungcheol had wanted to decide this challenge for you, it now seemed to come in handy. 

Licking over your lips, you took another step towards Vernon, one hand reaching for the small cross necklace he was wearing and letting it slip through your fingers. Your eyes stayed on the silver for a second before looking up and seeing his gaze, his red cheeks and the mouth that hung slightly agape. You smiled.

“How do you know the hosts?” You asked. Vernon needed a few seconds to regain composure.

“I, uh, I don’t actually. Hyunggu is, uhm, he works at the same coffee shop as J-Joshua.” He explained and you nodded, still playing with the jewelry. The poor man in front of you was close to losing his mind once more. 

“I see. Well, this seems fated, doesn’t it, Vernon?” Your voice was merely a whisper when you leaned forward, your lips meeting his ear, causing a shiver to run down his spine. Vernon didn’t know what to say to that. In fact, he didn’t know what to say ever again. His ability to speak had been ripped from him - by you and the way you looked at him, the way your breath hit his neck and ear. 

The thing was - you had kind of ruined everything for him. There was no porn he could watch that could even come close to what had happened at Mr. Choi’s office. At some point he had tried finding women who looked like you in the videos, tried to replace your image with theirs, but nothing would work. More often than not he would find himself with his hand full of lube, eyes squeezed shut, imagining you and the way your pussy had looked all wet and ready just that this time it was his cock that was about to fuck you stupid. 

So, when he felt your hand wrap around his wrist he didn’t even think about stopping you. He let you lead him into one of the bedrooms, let you sit him down on the bed, your legs on either side of him as you began straddling him. His head was in a haze, no thought to be thunk, only your lips on his, your tongue inside his mouth and finally your hips grinding against his extremely hard cock. 

Somehow his hands had landed on your back while yours laid on his shoulders, slowly moving up to cup his face as you kept on grinding down on him. Vernon’s head was spinning. 

“You’re so hard already, can feel you against my pussy, Vernonie…,” you whined against his ear and his eyes opened, looking at you as if you were the most precious thing on this earth. No words were able to leave his mouth, though. He could only nod and move his arms around you, finding himself rutting his erection against your core, catching you off guard. The moan that escaped you got him close to cumming right then and there.

“F-fuck, bet you can fuck me so good, baby,” you said before moving down to kiss his neck, his hips still moving up, chasing his own high.

“Shit!” His eyes rolled back when you found an especially sensitive spot on his neck, your tongue dragging over it just as your hand opened his jeans and slipped into them and his briefs - causing Vernon’s eyes to fly open and look at you in shock.

“W-wait I-,” he began, but the second your hand touched his bare cock, he couldn’t stop it. 

“O-oh, n-gh, f-fuck,” he whimpered as he came onto your hand and into his underwear - thick ropes of white and hot cum leaving you with your mouth dropped in surprise. 

His head dropped onto your shoulder as he tried to steady his breathing. Shame crept over him and he swallowed hard before he dared to look at you again.

“I’m sorry, I, fuck, I, uh- I’m a virgin.”

And scene. 

“You’re a what?” You stumbled out, the shock ever so present on your face. Vernon felt his face heat up.

“A... a virgin.”

Slowly, you pulled your hand out of his pants, looking at the stickiness he had left on it for a second before licking it off, your eyes not leaving his face. Vernon felt his cock twitch and a whimper escaping him. You were gonna be the death of him, he just knew it.

“Cheol doesn’t know that, does he?” You asked once your hand was clean and Vernon was already a little hard again. Vernon shook his head and you sighed.

“Well, I certainly won’t take your virginity for this stupid challenge, so…,” you stood up from his lap and looked at the mess he (or you?) had made, clicking your tongue before looking around the room and walking to one of the drawers on the side. You haven’t been in Joshua’s room before, but you definitely had not wanted to take Vernon to Mingyu’s room to fuck him. Or, well, not fuck him. You opened the first drawer and found yourself successful, grabbing one of Joshua's neatly folded pairs of underwear and throwing it at Vernon who caught it, with a somewhat horrified look on his face.

“Change into that. Don’t want you walking around with pants full of cum, baby.” You winked at him, and Vernon turned even more red. He mumbled a quick thank you and you chuckled, closing the drawer again, before walking to the door to go back to the party. 

Just that, once the door was open, you were met by yet another familiar face. Chan was leaning against the wall, talking to some girl, a drink in his hand. When the door opened, it was more like a reflex to look at who came out - never had he expected to see you or the dude stumbling over his own feet behind you. His brows shot up and your jaw tightened. 

“Now, who do we have here,” he says, the girl next to him forgotten, “you don’t pass up any dick, do you?” 

Your veins began burning. Anger, raw and so real like back when Chan and you had seen each other last. Your hands were balled into fists in no time and you somehow succeeded in moving, ready to leave the party for all you cared, but Chan was quicker than you. He grabbed your wrist and held you back, pushing you into the kitchen, where music was now blasting as well, music that rang in your ears as you were pressed against the wall right next to the door. 

“What the fuck do you want?” You spat out, trying to free yourself, but Chan just grinned down at you, his head slightly tilted.

“Just trying to make sense of you, princess,” was his awful reply. You scoffed, shaking your head and looking to the side, seeing that Vernon had escaped the bedroom now, closing the door and hurrying into the living room. 

“You should leave me alone,” you breathed out finally and Chan leaned forward, his lips right by your ear.

“I can’t really hear you, you know?”

You closed your eyes. Was he kidding? He had dragged you in here. He had chosen this god forsaken kitchen as the place he wanted to talk to you in. When you opened your eyes again, you saw in his eyes what you hadn’t before. Want, need. He was desperate for you. He craved you - had probably been lurking around your apartment, hoping to catch a glimpse of you. But you hadn’t come out, you had stayed inside and now that he finally saw you… 

“You shouldn’t look at me like that,” you say now, his eyes still boring into yours. Something flickers in them now, hurt maybe, or something totally different. You just know that his jaw is suddenly tightened and one hand is on your waist, grabbing you roughly. 

“You shouldn’t be here.”

“Says who?”

“I do. Did you fuck that guy?”

“Fuck you, Chan.” 

There was too much tension between you. More than back then in the elevator. His breath hit your face, his brows furrowed. 

“Did you fuck that guy?”

“What is it to you if I did?” You spat back at him. One of his hands was suddenly right there on your neck and your eyes widened at the sudden wave of want shaking your body.

“It’s an easy question, doll. Did you fuck him?”

His grab on your neck was almost too much to handle right now. Your pussy was crying into your panties and your head felt so far away, you feared it wasn’t even on your neck anymore. 

“No.”

You wished someone would walk in. One of the guys you had seen earlier. Soonyoung, for all you cared. Even Joshua would be fine - just anyone to get Chan away from you. All of the arousal from your make-out with Vernon was still fresh and with Chan’s hand on your body, you couldn’t guarantee anything. 

He was so close and he smelled so good. His face was mere inches from yours and if you moved just a tiny bit…

Chan was quicker than you. The thoughts were running around in his head ever since he saw you come out of that room, ever since he saw that random dude behind you. Jealous. That’s what he was. Jealous of some guy you had been in a room with by yourself and jealous of everyone who would come after. It was stupid and twisted, considering his brother was literally in love with you. His grip around your waist got stronger and suddenly his nose was touching yours, both of your mouths opened in a breathy gasp and when he saw the way your eyes fluttered close, there was literally no way around kissing you anymore.

It didn’t start out sweet or slow, no, Chan was full on kissing you like he knew you wanted to be kissed. His tongue was right there, his other hand on your chin, moving your head up so he could dip his tongue easier into your awaiting mouth. You moaned into the kiss, heat between your legs now accompanied by throbs that made you press your thighs together. Chan pressed himself against you, felt every curve of your body and wished he could just take you right here and now. But there were people around, drunk people, people who might not mind you any business, but still people. And so, he grabbed your hand after parting from you and taking you to the bedroom you had just left, the door falling shut behind you, his lips on you again right then. Hands were back on your waist and he groaned when he felt your hands feeling him up, sliding underneath his shirt and down, pressing against his bulge. 

“Wanna fuck you so bad,” you breathed and Chan bit down on your lip, nodding because, fuck, he wanted that too. It’s stupid, really, there is a bed right behind you, but Chan was greedy, Chan maybe even wanted someone to notice, wanted to get caught red handed, his cock in your tight pussy. He wanted everyone to know he got you, not Wonwoo.

Your hands moved to open his belt and you shoved his jeans and briefs down at the same time, have them pool at his ankles, your hungry eyes looking between his face and hard cock that laid against his stomach. Skilfully, you grabbed around the base of his cock and started jerking him off, Chan moaning against your neck as he tugged your dress up and panties down. 

“Your fucking dripping, baby,” he breahed into your ear and you nodded, looking up at him with a pout.

“Fuck my dripping pussy, Channie, need you so bad.”

He didn’t need to hear that again. He grabbed his cock after you dropped it, your head banging against the door behind you, and brought it to your pussy, sinking into you a second later, your one leg wrapped around his slim waist. 

“God, fuck, that’s right, such a wet tight pussy just for me.”

He began to move right away, devouring your lips with his as his hips frantically fucked into you. Your hands held onto his shoulders, eyes closed shut and skin on fire from desire. He fucked into you quick and hard, hitting you right where you needed him to and, fuck, did it feel good. Felt so good that you already felt yourself nearing an orgasm. 

Chan’s breath hit your face again when he parted from you and leaned back, his eyes studying you as he continued to fuck you. You still had your eyes closed, which meant Chan could look at you all he wanted. His cock was twitching wildly at how your face looked, how your mouth was dropped open at how fucked out you looked, at how much you were into this. He licked over his lips, hands grabbing your hips harshly, thrusts becoming sloppier the closer he felt to release.

“Craved your pussy so much, baby, look at how good you take my cock, shit.”

Your eyes fluttered open again, Chan staring at you making your stomach turn and your cunt clench around him, a moan escaping you when he picked up the pace once more, the door literally banging from the movement. There was no way people who passed wouldn’t notice. 

“Ch-Chan!” You cried out, and he smirked, continuing what he was doing.

“What is it, doll? You scared people will know that you’re getting fucked like the filthy whore you are?” He slowed down his thrusts just for a moment, your whimpers music to his ears.

“Pl-please,” you didn’t even know what you were begging for but Chan just chuckled, finally pulling out of you to lead you to the bed, where he told you to get on all fours. You did as told, your pussy aching for his cock to come back and fuck you. You wiggled your hips just when Chan slipped back into you, a harsh slap landing on your ass.

“So impatient, slut. Don’t worry, I’ll make you cum on this cock.”

He went back to fucking you hard and quick, your moans filling the room and making Chan move even quicker. He was so close to emptying his load in your warmth.

“Don’t stop, oh fuck!” Your walls clenched around him multiple times, letting Chan know that he had in fact made you cum on his cock. He kneaded your ass, slapping it as he fucked you through your orgasm, closing in on his own with every passing second.

“So good for me, came so prettily on my cock, my perfect little whore, isn’t that right?” One of his hands now moved, grabbing a fistful of your hair to pull you against his chest, his cock seemingly vibrating inside of you, overstimulation making you cry out.

“Want you to cum in me, Chan, want you to so bad!”

Somehow your words were like a spell, getting Chan to do exactly as you had told him to the next second. Hot spurts of cum filled your spent pussy that was now milking him for all he had.

“Fuck! Yes, take it all, every last drop, that’s right.”

Chan thrusted into you a few more times, sloppy and uncontrollable, his cock finally slipping out of you, accompanied by his own release that now dripped onto Joshua’s bed sheets. He couldn’t stop staring at your pretty pussy filled with his cum. Gosh, he really wanted to take a picture of this. 

You were the first one to come back to her senses. You turned around, seeing your panties and his pants and underwear laying on the floor by the door and you climbed off the bed to grab it all, put your own on and hand Chan his clothes. 

“Well,” you started, clearing your throat as you pulled your dress back down. Chan was back in his underwear and suddenly unable to look at you. What a joke.

“This probably shouldn’t have happened,” you finished then, feeling your own conscience starting to grow extremely guilty. Not to mention that you felt just extremely… yeah, what even? At this point there was nothing to say about you. How long had you been at this party? Thirty minutes? And you had already made out with Vernon, had made poor Vernon cum in his pants and now you had fucked Chan? Chan, who you had sworn to never fuck again because it was obvious you shouldn’t. Maybe Soonyoung’s idea to get out of the house had been a bad one after all. 

“Yeah. It shouldn’t have.” Chan didn’t look at you, he in fact couldn’t bear to do so. Guilt flooded him, making it almost impossible to even leave the room. Wonwoo was out there somewhere, drinking, dancing, not knowing you were here and most definitely not knowing his own little brother had betrayed him. Again. Chan sighed pulling his jeans back up and trying to fight the urge to just stay in here and wait this party out. 

With nothing but static sounds in your ear did you move to open the door, hand already around the knob. 

“If he wasn’t in the picture,” Chan’s voice suddenly cut through the silence and you stopped midway opening the door, “would you think about it?”

Your heart ached at his question and you closed your eyes. You really had a talent for making people fall for you only to disappoint them. 

“I don’t think the answer I have is the one you want.”

Even though he would never admit it, Chan felt his heart break a little at that. He knew it was stupid. Liking you was the exact opposite of what he should’ve done. You were just a girl he slept with once. You were the girl his brother had been talking about all this time, the one he had been hopelessly in love with. 

It wasn’t fair, really. That the cute neighbor turned out to be you. That the girl he wanted to see again so badly after that first fateful meeting in the hallway was the one his brother wanted. In all his years living on this earth, he had never hated Wonwoo. His older brother had always been his favorite person in the entire world. But now? In this exact moment he hated him. 

“Is it because of my brother?” He finally asked and you turned around to look at him.

“No, it’s not. I promise you, he has nothing to do with this.”

Chan moved his head and looked at you, nodding slightly. He would probably feel guilty about feeling relieved in a few hours, but right now he enjoyed the knowledge you wouldn’t go for his brother. 

With one last smile, you finally turned to open the door, Chan right behind you. 

And that was when time seemed to stop for both of you. 

Of course this would happen because how could it not? How could you ever walk out of this room without any problem, without anyone seeing you. It was like ice was somehow replacing the blood in your veins, making you shiver, making you freeze. 

Wonwoo stood there, right in front of the bedroom, just like Chan had earlier. And as if that wasn’t bad enough - Mingyu stood right there next to him. 

You heard Chan’s gasp right when Wonwoo and Mingyu looked at you. Saw your disheveled hair, Chan’s not fully closed belt. The guilt in his eyes, the shock in yours. It took Wonwoo everything in him not to drop his glass at the sight. 

“Tell me this is not what it looks like.”

Where his voice came from, he couldn’t tell. He just heard it, felt it ringing in his ears after. When neither you nor Chan began speaking and only continued to stare at him, he felt his jaw tightening and his body move. Without knowing where he was headed, he ran out of the apartment, leaving you and Chan behind with nothing but the biting feeling of a guilty conscience. Your eyes briefly met Mingyu’s, before you followed Chan, who was now running after his brother.

Cold air was giving you an unwelcome hug when you reached downstairs, Wonwoo standing on the side of the road, seemingly trying to catch a cab.

“Hyung, wait!” Chan called out for him and Wonwoo let his arm drop down - there wasn’t a cab around anyways. God, why didn’t he take his own car? Why did he have to get here with Mingyu and why did he plan on crashing here? Why had he even decided to come here in the first place?

When Chan finally reached him, Wonwoo slowly turned around. As much as you wanted to deny it - seeing Wonwoo this way made your heart clench painfully. Coming to a halt behind Chan, you suddenly felt like maybe you shouldn’t have followed them.

“Hyung,” Chan started again, looking at his brother with pleading eyes, “I’m sorry, I- I know what this must look like to you.”

“It looks like you slept with the girl I’ve been telling you about for weeks, yeah.”

Chan swallowed. 

“He didn’t know, Wonwoo. Neither did I, when we slept together - we didn’t know.”

“But you knew today, didn’t you?”

Chan and you shared a quick glance and Wonwoo scoffed, looking away for a second, before he pushed his hands into the pockets of his jacket and stared back at you.

“Mingyu told me, actually. That you two- that this happened. And I was planning on letting it slide because as you said, you didn’t know. But tonight? You knew and you still-,” Wonwoo closed his eyes and took a deep breath. 

“You know, I’m not even mad at you, Y/N. Because I don’t expect anything else from you. You take and take and take and you never ever think about the consequences of your actions. You simply don’t give a fuck about anyone’s feelings and some fucked up part of me admires you for it. How easy it must be to go through life not caring about anyone but yourself.”

Any other day his words might have made you feel a different way. Maybe you would have felt offended, angry even. But right now? You knew he was right, felt it in your bones that his words couldn’t be any more true. Averting your gaze, you looked at your feet, not allowing yourself to cry.

“You, though,” he was talking to Chan now and even though something inside you itched to step in, you didn’t, “you knew who she is, what she means to me. And you still did this?”

“Hyung, I’m sorry, I truly am, I don’t know what to tell you.” Chan sounded just as broken as you felt and it took everything in you to not put a hand on his shoulder to offer some comfort. 

“That makes two of us, Channie. I also don’t know what to tell you.”

Wonwoo finally turned around to walk off and when he walked around the next corner, Chan finally moved again, pulling both hands through his hair, before turning around and spotting none other than Mingyu stepping outside. Anger rushed through Chan, but you stopped him before he could do anything.

“Let me talk to him, Chan,” you said quietly and while Chan looked like he didn’t want to listen to you, he ended up nodding and storming off, back inside. 

Once he was gone, you took a few steps closer to Mingyu who looked at you with a blank face. He didn’t feel bad about telling Wonwoo, you could tell. You could also tell that he was mad at you, if because of the ghosting or the fact he had caught you with Chan, you didn’t know. Sighing, you shrugged slightly and looked up at him.

“When did you tell him?”

“Around three days after you suddenly disappeared.”

“You’re angry at me.”

“You think?”

Mingyu had never looked at you like this before. Like he was actually mad, like there was something seriously wrong. 

“I’m sorry for not texting back, for not calling you back, Mingyu, I truly am. Something happened and I just closed off. Not just you, I- I just turned my phone off and didn’t think.”

“I was worried about you.” He took a step closer. You felt his warmth and closed your eyes, even let him put his hand on your cheek. That was until you remembered Wonwoo’s face, the way he had looked at Chan. And that’s when you realized something.

“You told Wonwoo about Chan,” you started, your eyes back open and looking at him, “but you didn’t tell him about you.” 

Mingyu’s jaw twitched, his hand slowly falling from your face again. He didn’t have to confirm it with words for you to know your assumption is correct. 

“How can you do this to him?” Now, you felt the tears behind your eyes that you had held back the entire day. Mingyu licked over his drying lips and let out a bitter laugh.

“Why is it always him you’re worried about? Why does it matter that he liked you first, why do my feelings not matter to you, Y/N? This isn’t fair.”

“No one ever said this is fair, Mingyu. This whole situation is fucked up, this has nothing to do with fairness. If I was smart, I’d just stop right here. I’d leave you alone, I’d never speak to any of those guys upstairs again. But I can’t because I’m selfish, because I don’t want to leave you alone, I don’t want to never speak to them again. I’m selfish because somehow I still can’t let go of things I know shouldn’t be mine.”

“I am yours, Y/N, I have been yours since the day you stepped foot into the office, the first time you kissed me. How can I prove to you that I don’t care about any of this?”

Both of his hands were on your cheeks now and his thumbs wiped away the tears that began to fall. 

“Mingyu, you know it’s wrong, you know it’s not fair. Not to you or Wonwoo or anyone else. I can’t just accept you as mine when it’s so clear Wonwoo will never forgive you, not after Chan.”

“I don’t care. I love you, I want to be with you.”

“You don’t mean that. You shouldn’t mean that.”

Even though it took everything in you, you let your hands wrap around his wrists, lifting his hands from your face.

“Y/N…,” he whispers, but you shake your head, another set of tears dripping down your cheeks.

“We can’t do this anymore. I appreciate you wanting to wait, but even if I were to finish this stupid challenge, I don’t think you and I should be together.”

Mingyu heard your words and he understood them. Every single one of them reached his brain and a part of him even agreed with them. But looking at you, seeing the face he had been seeing in his dreams for the past months, the one he had missed so much when you had left him the first time - that part fell extremely small. The bigger part wanted to reach for you, tell you how wrong you were. No one would be as good for you as him, no one understood you the way he did. Yes, Wonwoo was his friend, maybe even his best friend, but you… you were his. Everything about you was made for him and it didn’t make any sense for you to not see that. He knew you did, he knew you felt the same. But, apparently, your conscience won over your heart this time.

“Don’t do this,” he heard himself say and you pressed your lips together, shaking your head again.

“Mingyu, it’s for the best. I am not- I am not good. Something inside me is rotten, I feel like… I feel like I’ve lost who I am in the past few months. I did things because I was being selfish and I need to stop. I already lost my best friend, I can’t lose myself too.”

You let go of his wrists now, looking up at him with a sad smile. You hoped he knew that if you had met under different circumstances you would love to be with him. 

When you left, Mingyu stayed back, staring at the spot you had just stood in. And, somehow, he didn’t believe that this was the end of you two just yet.

-

You sat down on the bench of one of the bus stations near Mingyu’s apartment complex, about to get your phone out to text Soonyoung - when you realized that he still had it. Groaning, you let your head fall back against the glass behind you. Wonderful. Just great, really. He would probably drop it off tomorrow once he realized you weren’t at the party anymore. Maybe it was better this way - not having your phone close to get any ideas about texting Mingyu. Or Seungcheol. Another groan left you. Seungcheol. The fact he hadn’t sent a whole SWAT team into your apartment was probably thanks to Jiwoo. Maybe he didn’t want to see you again after talking to his sister. And maybe that was right. If you couldn’t see Mingyu anymore, you probably shouldn’t see Cheol anymore too. 

“Y/N?” A voice made you open your eyes, surprise visible in your face when you saw Vernon parked in front of the bus station, passenger seat window down as he looked at you with worry.

“Vernon? You’re already leaving?” 

“Yeah, I, uh, thought that maybe this was enough socializing for the next couple of weeks.”

The way he awkwardly smiled made you laugh. Nodding, you let your eyes roam over his car. It’s nice - not as nice as the car he drives for Cheol, but definitely on the more expensive side. Vernon clears his throat.

“Do you need a ride?”

It probably took a lot of courage for him to ask you this. Smiling, you thanked him, getting up from the bench and walking over to his car, opening the door and plopping down onto the passenger seat.

“Guess you won’t need the address,” you joked and he blushed, still with a small smile playing on his lips.

“Yeah. I think I got that covered.”

You drove in comfortable silence. The city was still alive since it wasn’t that late and you watched strangers laugh on the street, drink in some of the booths standing around town. A part of you wished to be as carefree as them, but you figured that this would take a while for you to gain back. Not caring and going out, making friends without thinking about how you could possibly get them into your bed. It was crazy, really, how much this challenge had affected your life, how now, three months after the idea had left Jiwoo’s lips, she wasn’t even your friend anymore. 

“Can I ask you something?” Vernon spoke into the silence and you turned to look at him, nodding.

“Sure.”

“Okay so, I know that Mr. Choi kind of told me to, uh, sleep with you and… I also know that you are now aware of me… never having been with someone like that,” he began and you frowned slightly, unsure what he was going to say next, “if I am honest with you, Y/N, ever since that time in Mr. Choi’s office, I… couldn’t stop thinking about you. Not… not in a romantic sense, more like, as in-,” he scratched his head, trying hard to find the right words for what he wanted to say, “as in I think I actually need you to take my virginity, or else I’ll probably never be able to get this out of my head.”

Oh. You raised your eyebrows, blinking at Vernon a few times, the words still registering in your brain. Then, when it finally clicked, you broke out into an honest laugh, catching Vernon off guard.

“I’m- I’m serious!” He whined and you nodded, waving with your hand as if to signal you weren’t really laughing at him.

“No- No, I know. And I am flattered, but-,” you let yourself look at him again and when you spotted the earnest look on his face, your laugh faltered, making space for a smile that somehow even spread to your heart.

“I know it’s a weird request. But I’m just a guy Y/N. And you, quite literally, have been taking over my mind. I just- I would be incredibly happy if you would… do that. And of course I understand if you’re not into it, but I thought I could at least ask and-,”

“Okay,” you interrupted him, Vernon now being the one to blink at you a few times when he stopped at a red light.

“Okay?” He repeated and you nodded.

“Yeah. Okay. I’ll do it. We, you and I, can do it. Not tonight though, I’ve had, uh, quite the evening and would just like to fall into bed. By myself.”

Vernon felt like he had just seen the gates of heaven and he wasn’t even naked in bed with you yet. Quickly, he nodded, continuing the drive when the light turned green, a wide smile on his lips as he realized you had really just said yes to his insane request.

“Sure! I get that, I, uh, we can definitely do it another day, I’m fine with that. You can call me, I- you have my number, right?”

-

Soonyoung ended up bringing your phone over the next day, not even staying for a chat and not even able to look you in the eyes. Your jaw hurt from how hard you were biting down, knowing exactly why he was behaving this way. Thanking him and slapping the door closed, you sighed and fell back onto your couch, plugging your phone into the charger and waiting for it to turn on. 

Going through your messages was a true pain. Mingyu wondering where you were (before the party, obviously), asking if he had done something wrong, telling you he was gonna come over. You closed your eyes, holding back the stupid tears that wanted to slip out again. You should really get a fucking grip. Mingyu had been part of the challenge, nothing more! He should have never become more than that, should have never become someone you actually cared about as much as you did now. 

You deleted his chat, not even opening the messages. Then, you moved on to Seungcheol. Your next big problem. While he did text you several times, he did seem to understand you needed your time and space and he was willing to give it to you. 

But I just need you to understand that I am serious about this, about you. I want to be with you.

Seungcheol’s words suddenly barged into your mind, reminding you of the fact that he did in fact care about you, that he wanted you, that he didn’t care about anything else. Sighing, you closed the messenger app and instead opened your contacts, choosing his and pressing the call button. 

He picked up after the second ring.

“Y/N,” the way he said your name soothed you right then and there. 

“Cheol…,” you breathed out, feeling another set of tears wanting to break through.

“Are you okay?” He asked and you could hear him moving, making you wonder about whether he was at home or in the office on this Sunday morning. 

“Not really, if I’m gonna be honest,” you replied, turning over so you laid on your back now, “but I will get there. Eventually.”

You could imagine him nodding, could imagine the worried frown on his face.

“I am so sorry about my sister,” he then said and you shrugged, smiling sadly to yourself.

“It’s not your fault. She had every right to be mad at me.”

“No, she didn’t. And I told her that. I talked to her, tried to make her see that she is completely overreacting. Yes, I am her brother and, yes, we should have just told her, but she is making this a bigger deal than it ever had to be.”

“Maybe. But as you said, we should have told her. I should have told her. Instead I told her a lie about a businessman I met at the hotel, instead I kept on lying to her for weeks, I avoided her, scared to accidentally let it slip. Yeah, what she said to me was… harsh and it did hurt me. But I deserved it, Cheol.”

You heard him sigh on the other line.

“Baby, you didn’t deserve it. We all make mistakes, we are humans. She acted like you killed someone.”

The usage of the pet-name made your stomach flutter. Chuckling lightly, sadness still audible, you let your hand rest on your forehead.

“I can’t really change the situation now. She didn’t contact me at all while I had my phone off. We had fights before, but never like this.”

“Just give her time. She’ll come around.”

Around to what? You didn’t dare ask the question. 

“Yeah, maybe,” you just said and swallowed hard, licking over your lips after.

“If you need anything, call me, okay? I’m here for you,” he paused, “and Jeonghan is back. So, if you want to finish what you started - you can.”

Finish what you started. At this point you weren’t even sure you wanted that. 

“I’ll call you. Bye, Cheol.”

“Bye, Y/N.”

-

Vernon picked you up in the car he drove for Cheol a day later. 

You kept telling yourself this wasn’t for your challenge, but for Vernon. He had asked this of you. He wanted you to do this for him. It didn’t matter that you could beat the challenge because the sole reason for it wasn’t your friend anymore. Still, even with all of this in the back of your mind, your pride remained right there, wanting you to do this for yourself, prove to yourself that you could finish this even when wounded and on the floor with nothing left. 

So, when Vernon parked the car on a high spot with a beautiful view of the city and the two of you were making out on the spacious backseat - you allowed yourself to count this towards the challenge you so desperately wanted to leave behind you.

Vernon’s hands were careful, shy even, placed on your hips as his mouth discovered yours, his tongue slowly moving against your own. You wanted to let him find his pace but when he didn’t try to make a move fifteen minutes in, you decided to take the lead. Quickly, you moved onto his lap, straddling him like back at the party, your hands cupping his face as you kissed him deeper this time, tongue licking sensually against his and he whimpered underneath you - absolute music to your ears. 

“Touch me, I know you want to,” you whispered into his ear then and he swallowed hard before letting his hands slip to your back and down, fingers almost clawing into your ass, your hips beginning to grind against him.

“Fuck,” he breathed, his cock already rock hard in his pants. You chuckled, kissing his neck and letting your finger glide under his shirt, pulling it over his head skilfully, his hands landing right back on your ass once he was shirtless in front of you. You licked over your lips and moved to kiss down his neck, tongue flicking against his skin and finally his nipple, the moan coming out of Vernon’s mouth deliciously ringing in your ears. He dared to move your shirt up as well, helping you get rid of it and he immediately groped your breasts, his eyes glued to them still covered by pretty dark red lace. You smiled smugly, fingers caressing his abs and chest, thumb and index softly pinching his nipple and making him throw his head back.

“Feels good,” he mumbled and you giggled, doing it again. The way he pushed his hips up, searching for friction had your pussy dripping into your panties. You happily continued, lips back to kissing his neck and chin, moving up to his mouth where he gladly welcomed you with his tongue searching for yours. God, he was eager and you loved it. 

“Keep telling me what feels good, Nonie, wanna make you feel so so good.” Your voice was dripping in honey and Vernon nodded rapidly, reaching for your face to kiss you again and you let your hands wander down to open his jeans, hoping the incident at the party wouldn’t repeat itself. Vernon was concentrating on your lips on his, on the way your skin was warm under his fingertips, on how good it felt to kiss you and to have you on top of him. When you touched him over his boxer-briefs, he did moan into the kiss, but he didn’t fear coming undone like last time - he had jerked off twice this morning to prevent that from happening. 

“So hard for me already, bet you have such a pretty dick, baby.”

He twitched under your hand now, his long eyelashes fluttering as he watched you - how you sat up, biting down on your red bottom lip, your fingers pushing down his pants and underwear so his cock could spring free. 

“I knew it, so pretty, Nonie.”

Your hand around his cock did not make him cum, but it did make a good load of pre-cum leak out of him, his face red as he watched your thumb carefully collecting all of it, smearing it over his shaft and using it as lube for your hand that now grabbed around him. Vernon couldn’t help the pathetic little cries when you began jerking him off.

“Y-yeah, j-just like that.” His eyes rolled back and you watched him in awe, taking in every single one of his pretty sounds and the way his hips bucked up into your fist.

“Be a good boy and stay still for me, yeah, baby?” You grinned to yourself, seeing how he struggled while nodding, his teeth sinking into his lip, his eyes squeezed shut. He was incredibly pretty at that moment. 

Your hand moved quicker, getting him as hard as you could without making him cum. 

“F-feels really good,” Vernon sighed, his hands grabbing onto the seat underneath him, nails dragging into the leather. You watched him carefully and finally dropped his cock from your hand to rid yourself of pants and underwear. Vernon’s eyes flew open and he held his breath watching as you shifted, pants and panties slipping down your legs. 

“I would love to suck you off, baby, but I fear you’ll come right away and I really, really want your cum in my pussy.”

The whimper leaving Vernon now made you grab his cock and lead it to your dripping pussy. 

“F-fuck, I- I- oh my god,” Vernon’s hands found place on your back, eyes wide as he stared down at your pussy sinking down on his length, his whole brain working on not cumming the second his tip breached you. His head was spinning, his breath hitched once he allowed himself to breathe again and when you were fully sunken down, he felt his dick twitch wildly inside of you.

“Holy fucking shit.” His nails dug into your skin and you let your pussy get used to his size, arms wrapping around his neck, lips back to kissing him softly.

“Feel good?” You asked and he nodded, not able to speak, too busy concentrating on not shooting his load right then and there. 

What he did not expect was the feeling of you moving. How your walls felt around his virgin cock that was only used to his own hand. How tight you were, how warm, how perfect. There was no stopping the moans, the cries, the whimpers as you began riding his cock, your lips traveling from his neck to his lips, from his lips to his ears, sucking on his earlobe and making him push you harder against his chest.

“M-Mommy, f-feel so good.” The word slipped out and it rang in your ears, your pussy clenching around him, a smirk on your lips inevitable when you parted from him only to take a look at his face. 

He was lost in pleasure, but the fact he had said that was somehow displayed on his face as well. Your hands moved to your own back, unclasping your bra and letting it fall off your frame. Vernon twitched inside you once more.

“Such a good boy for Mommy, aren’t you, baby?” You brought his hands from your back to your front, placing them right there on your tits.

“I know you want Mommy’s tits in your hands and in your mouth, isn’t that right?” Vernon saw stars when your hips moved again and your tits almost slipped through his hands. Quickly, he nodded, beginning to grope at them harder, his mouth open as he watched how they looked in his hands, how soft they were, how good they felt. And when you pushed his head down, his face right there between your perfect tits, he almost couldn’t believe he hadn’t cum yet. 

With his tongue shooting out and lapping at you, you began riding his cock quicker, letting yourself lose, moans coming out of your throat that made the poor man feel like he was dying. He brought his lips to your nipple, sucking it into his mouth as he heard angel’s sing in his ears, tongue twirling around the hard bud. 

“Just like that, baby. Your cock feels so good in Mommy, gonna make me cum.” 

Vernon knew it wasn’t going to be long until he exploded, his spit running down your tits as he kissed and sucked on your skin, moving up to your neck and kissing your mouth again, hands still busy on your breasts. 

“Are you gonna cum for Mommy, Nonie? Are you gonna fill Mommy’s pussy with your cum?”

“Y-yes, gonna fill M-mommy up, pump her full, o-oh,” Vernon had never ever expected to last as long as he did. 

“That’s right, baby. Pump Mommy full, come on. Know you want to.”

The second the words had left your mouth, Vernon couldn’t help it anymore. He cried out, calling for you over and over as his cock twitched and twitched, hot cum filling your pussy, his hips fucking into you with absolute no control. You felt your own climax hit you just then with the way he kept on thrusting upwards, hitting you right there where you needed him. 

“Fuck!” You cried out, pussy tightening around his cock and he whimpered, overstimulation hitting him as you kept fucking yourself on his cock, the sound of your cum stuffed pussy riding his cock so lewd it literally caused his cock to grow in size again, all of the blood in Vernon’s body down there, all of his senses heightened but his brain completely shut off.

“Sh-shit, n-ngh, Mommy, please!” His cry made you look at him, the fucked out face having you clench around him again. He wasn’t done with you yet. Instead of letting his cock die down, he kept on fucking into you, his head now thrown back as he cried with every thrust, his hips showing you no mercy as he chased his pleasure. There was nothing you could do but enjoy, your mouth hanging open as you let him have his way with you, your hands back on his shoulders.

“You fuck Mommy so good, baby, come on, I know you wanna give me more, want all of it, Nonie, all of your delicious cum in my pussy, gonna make me so fucking proud.” 

His overstimulated but incredibly hard cock obeyed immediately. A second orgasm made Vernon’s body shake, more cum filling you as he cried, head falling forward onto your shoulder as exhaustion hit him next. He was still twitching wildly and you allowed yourself to fuck down on him until you yourself reached a second high, his whimpers telling you to keep going.

“W-wanna make Mommy cum,” he cried and you grabbed his face, seeing actual tear stains on it, kissed him softly.

“Made Mommy cum two times, baby, I am so proud of you, did so well for Mommy.”

A smile spread on Vernon’s lips, before his head dropped again, his chest heaving with great effort. 

As a good virginity-taker should, you held Vernon against your chest for a while after he had slipped out of you, his cock extremely sensitive. You had cleaned him and yourself up and helped him back into his boxer-briefs, finally letting him rest against your frame, as he came down from his high. 

“I’m sorry if this was a bit much,” he mumbled after a while and you chuckled, fingers caressing through his hair.

“It was all fine, don’t even worry about it, alright?” You kissed the top of his head and Vernon thanked you, squeezing your hand before lifting his head. You allowed him to kiss you when he wanted to and you agreed to grabbing some McDonald’s before parting ways. 

-

Having made the decision to end this challenge once and for all, you had called Seungcheol the day after your “date” with Vernon to tell him you were willing to meet that business partner of his. Setting a time and place (two days from then at Seungcheol’s company), you were content with finally finishing what you had started. Sure, a part of you felt devastated about the fact Jiwoo wouldn’t be there to share this with you. Maybe even a really big part. You decided to forget about this for the time being - after all there was still a chance Seungcheol was right and she would forgive you. 

When you arrived at the company that day, you mentally prepared yourself to, one, see Seungcheol and, two, see this stranger you’re supposed to let into your bed. You didn’t even know why you hadn’t asked Seungcheol for a picture or even any more information about Jeonghan, but then again you had been worried about a lot of other things. One that apparently had not been on your mind, was Seokmin. 

Seokmin who was talking to one of the women at the front desk and who, once he spotted you, seemed to stop mid sentence. You felt your cheeks heat up and your heart beating faster, remembering the last time you had seen him. Seungcheol had gotten you out of that situation rather quickly and a part of you had been worried that Seokmin would have to deal with repercussions - but since he was still here, you figured there hadn’t been any. 

“You’re here.” He said when you reached him, a small smile playing on his lips. You nodded and he excused himself to the woman, leading you through the gates with his ID card and to the familiar elevators.

“Meeting Mr. Yoon today, I heard.”

Yoon. Yoon Jeonghan? You frowned. What a strange coincidence. 

“Yes. What’s he like?”

“Well, he’s… something, for sure. Good looking, intelligent. Very well traveled, too.” 

The elevator pinged and the two of you walked inside, your hands tightly clasped around your purse.

“Right. And… is he nice?”

You looked over at Seokmin, who seemed like he really had to think about that question. 

“Uhm, well, I guess, “nice” wouldn’t be the first thing that comes to mind when I think of Mr. Yoon, but he is… he can be nice. If it benefits him.” Seokmin slowly turned his head, his eyes meeting yours.

“And I would assume in this situation, it would definitely benefit him.”

Smooth. Another heatwave met your cheeks and you averted your gaze, clearing your throat just in time for the elevator to come to a stop and open its doors. 

Seokmin let you out first, a quiet “thank you” leaving your lips as you stepped out, your head turning to face the way you knew Seungcheol’s office was - only to be met by something, or more someone you most certainly had not expected to see.

Jiwoo was standing there, right by the entrance to Seungcheol’s office space, talking to a man who’s face you couldn’t see.

“Ah, Mr. Yoon is already here.” Seokmin’s voice said next to you and you blinked, looking from him to Jiwoo and finally to who you presumed was Mr. Yoon. Yoon Jeonghan.

You stopped in your step, feet suddenly glued to the floor. Yoon Jeonghan had moved his head. His face was right there in your field of view. And Jiwoo’s hand was on his arm as she laughed about something he said. 

“Y/N?” Seokmin was visibly confused, but you couldn’t even hear him. There was only the sound of your own blood rushing in your ears, only the faint memory of a voice that belonged to the man standing right there.

I didn’t think it would be a big deal. Aren’t best friends supposed to share things?

You were taken back to the time Jiwoo and you had your first real big fight, to the way neither of you understood that it wasn’t any of you who was the problem but him. Him, who had lied to both of you, who had known you were best friends, who had taken advantage of both of your naivety. 

And now he stood here? In this very office building, being Jiwoo’s brother’s business partner? Your world was spinning and you only found your senses again when Seokmin’s hand landed on your shoulder and his worry was even more visible on his face.

“Y/N, what’s wrong?” He asked and you looked at him, really looked at him, shaking your head as an answer. You didn’t say anything, instead you continued walking, your steps echoing against the walls of the space and finally Jiwoo and Jeonghan noticed you. 

While Jiwoo’s eyes widened in shock, Jeonghan remained oddly calm. Instead of surprise that it was you, there is a smug smile displayed on his lips as his eyes lingered on your body.

“As it turns out,” he began, “we do get a chance for that night we never had after all, Y/N.”

Your hands turned into fists - fists you were ready to throw at him. But before you could do that, you were interrupted by Jiwoo.

“Are you joking?” She gasped, looking between Jeonghan and you, “Is it not enough for you to drag my brother into this, now you’re going after my ex as well?!”

If the world wasn’t spinning anyways, you would have been sure it had started doing so right then. There it was again - the sound of your blood rushing in your ears.

“Your ex?” You croaked out, shaking your head in absolute confusion.

“First of all, I didn’t know he was the Jeonghan Cheol was talking about. And second of all, as far as i am concerned he is not your actual ex, you fucked like what, once? And then you broke it off right?”

You knew the answer even before asking the question. The Jiwoo standing in front of you, with her face pale and her jaw tightened - she was someone different from the Jiwoo you knew, but perhaps the realest version of her you had ever gotten.

“Well- well, yes! But-,”

“You’re lying,” you now interrupted her.

“I am not!”

“Yes, she is,” Jeonghan now chimed in, a smile on his lips you could only describe as mischievous. As if he knew he was stirring the pot.

“Oppa!” Jiwoo hissed and you felt your stomach drop right down to your feet.

“She wanted to break it off, she really did. But I guess she just couldn’t resist me. You will find out soon enough what that means, sweetheart.” His phone started ringing just then, a wink in your direction serving as his goodbye right before he began walking towards the other side of the floor to his own office space. 

You were shaking. Your whole body was in something like a trance. Jiwoo could only stare at the spot Jeonghan had just stood, blood rushing back into her face.

“You’re telling me that, even after you found out he had lied to both of us, you went and slept with him again? You even went as far as to date him behind my back?”

“So what! You fucked my brother behind my back that is far worse than this!” She screamed back at you, her eyes wild and her face flushed. You couldn’t help but let out a humorless laugh.

“Oh my god. Oh my god, you are horrible, you are fucking horrible, Choi Jiwoo.”

And even with her screaming behind you, you didn’t look back when you stepped into the elevator with its open doors seeming to welcome you like a warm hug from a friend you so desperately needed. 

header by @wongyuseokie

[lets-get-kraken-boys]

Gojo and Geto with bad bitch Chubby Reader

Guys, I tried to avoid being a Gojo stan...I tried so hard to hate him...but the pull was too strong. He got my ass. He's too silly. He's too cute the little shit. He's too perfect. Geto's great too before he lost his shit and went psycho the two are just too great to pass up.

2024 WILL BE THE YEAR THAT I GET YOU BITCHES TO PREACH STRONG, CONFIDENT, INDEPENDENT but not too independent bc these men are still yummy af CHUBBY READER! No longer will I be insecure about my weight because these men LOVE to see me coming AND going, I can tell you that.

WARNING: Fatphobia (happens when first meeting Gojo & Geto—they’re teens trying to bully Reader, but she handles herself because they’re idiots), A little angst with the small amount of bullying but I hope I made up for it, Cursing

✧༺♥༻✧

Imagine you, Gojo, Geto, and Shoko being classmates and friends during their schooling at Jujutsu High. All of you are powerful threats not to be taken lightly. The boys were undoubtedly freaks of nature with how strong they were—though, you had doubled over laughing alongside Shoko a couple of times when you heard them deem themselves "the strongest duo", as if they were some cool loner wolf types. Shoko was a master in the medicinal field; she made any injury look like a breeze to clean. She'd stitch them up no problem with her cursed energy and send them merrily on their way with a swift kick to their backside.

You definitely have more proficiency with cursed energy usage for combat more so than healing, but you could manage healing yourself just fine. You’d been born into a clan, not as highly revered as the Zenin or Gojo clans but still notable, so you’ve been taught from an early age how to wield cursed energy. Sacrificing yourself for the greater good of the world has been drilled into your head since birth, and you agreed with it. The world’s innocence needs to be protected from the cursed dangers life creates. Sure, there are bad people in the world, but the good people make life worth living. At least, that’s what you choose to believe.

While you’re just a normal—aside from the slight infinite power and jaw-dropping strength—girl, you are different in one more physical way. You’re chubbier than most, and not by a small bit.

Are you insecure about it?

Hell fucking no!

You’re a bad bitch. Fantastic face, banging body, stunning smile, bright eyes, a kind but strong heart, and even a cute butt to top it off. You knew this world inside out with how cruel it could be to plus sized folk, and while you took the beating for far too long without fighting back, you took a couple of steps back a few years ago to look at the situation. Why let people push you around like you didn’t matter? Why let them speak to you like you’re lesser than them simply because you weigh more? You were done being talked to like you were filth underneath their boots.

Since that new perspective, you’ve chosen the road of self love and hands rated E for everyone. You’re kind and sweet to those who reciprocate the respect. To those who try you, you beat their asses with a smile. “Education on Human Decency” is what you’ve begun to call the smackdowns since many want to try casting judgment in snide remarks or sneering looks. They can try these hands instead :)

That’s where Jujutsu High and the headaches you know as Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru fit into this philosophy of yours.

You were homeschooled by your clan in the first year of your sorcery high school. Though, after much begging for a change of scenery and yearning for social interactions other than your family and neighbors, they allowed you to go to a high school centered on jujutsu sorcery the next school year.

When you started Jujutsu High in your second year, that is where you met Shoko, Gojo, and Geto, your classmates. The first thought to cross your mind was how small this crowd was. Sure, it wasn’t like the classes you’ve had before had many students in them either; the world of curses and cursed energy wasn’t exactly a booming population to start with, especially when every year is the same class roster composed of the few brothers and sisters you had. Considering that, three new faces was much better than before! You introduced yourself with a joyful tone and an eager handshake.

You started with Shoko since she was the only other girl. You’re glad you did. Shoko, who you originally thought would be tricky to get along with since she gave off “rebel” vibes with that unlit cigarette dangling from her lips and you were nothing of the sort, held a grin and took your handshake with grace. She told you she liked your spunk, that it was nice to be around another girl rather than more stinking boys. You agreed with her with a relieved sigh. You two shared a laugh and chatted some more, each of you discussing your thoughts of the school and figuring out your mutual interests.

Soon enough, you were interrupted by someone giving a very noticeable and forced cough behind you. You turned and were met with two boys, one with jet black hair and a sly grin and the other one with silvery moonlight colored strands sharing the same expression hidden behind circular sunglasses. The white haired boy was leaning heavily on the black haired boy with one arm propped on his shoulder as the black-haired boy crossed his arms in front of himself. Seems like the two are close. No matter.

You stuck your hand out, another smile—admittedly, this one was a little more forced than the one you shared with Shoko—and gave your name. Suguru was the first to bite. He grabbed your hand with a smooth, warm grip, and exchanged his name. His shake felt sincere, though the cunning smirk still laid on his lips.

You tried to shake the other boy’s hand after letting Suguru go, but he decided otherwise. He swiftly with no mercy said he wasn’t going to shake hands with the likes of “you”. You raised an eyebrow, already sensing the insult he would try to hurl at you. One thing bullies are is predictable. None of them have any creative bone in their body, they’re like leeches, in a way. Mooching off other clever remarks they’ve heard used before through the Internet or their idiot friends. Though, they alway reproduce it much shitter than the first time they heard it.

He leaned in with a smile and yapped about how if he touches you, some of your fat might rub off on him. Gojo tries to drag Geto into bullying you too by shamelessly asking if Geto is worried that will happen to him now that he’s so brazenly touched you. As much as you wanted Suguru to be his own person, to be better than the loser clinging to him like a koala, he chimed in that while Gojo’s afraid of that, that that could never happen to him. He sneered while looking down at you that he actually has the discipline to keep the weight off. The two of them share an evil snicker together.

Oh, so that’s how they wanna play it.

Okay. You don’t mind showing a bitch their place.

As Shoko pipes up and tells them to shut the hell up, you stop her. You give her a kind smile that says “I love you, but please back the fuck up as I rock these bitches world”. Her eyebrows jump up in surprise, but she gives you a nod. She quiets down.

You choose to laugh with them. They slowly shut their mouths, finding laughing at you not that funny when you don’t crumple under their taunts like they’d expected. You then explain to them that what you find so funny is that punks like them are so easy to read and, subsequently, ruin. You told them they need to find better insults to steal if they wanna cackle like they’re some kind of drunk hyenas and, unless they get more creative, they’re not worth the air they take from others. You turned to walk away, but since you just couldn’t help yourself, you gave the both of them a swift kick to the chest. Unprepared for the action, they both were sent careening back, but remained standing. You also snarkily nagged that being “undisciplined in weight loss” gave you the extra weight to knock their scrawny asses back that far.

Shoko gave you a hearty high five while laughing at them getting what they deserve. Gojo, though baffled at your defiance, is ready to start throwing punches, as he spews half-assed insults left and right. Geto manages to keep his thoughts to himself, but you do note his expression has definitely become sour. This little scrap is swiftly interrupted by your new teacher, Masamichi Yaga, when he enters and orders the class to settle down. He also snuffs Gojo’s babbling tantrum with a merciless smack to his forehead.

You give a small grin stuck your tongue out at the two when Mr. Masamichi turned his back. From then on, it was war.

You, Geto, and Gojo fought constantly in the beginning

When they (mostly Gojo now) tried to stir shit with you, you’d fling their rudeness right back at them

Whether they tried to pick on your weight, or cheery personality, or strength (which they couldn’t make too much fun off since you were only a little less strong than they were, but so was everyone else compared to their insane powers), you were always ready to kick their asses

You didn’t resent them for their teasing, mostly since you had a good head on your shoulders and you know that Gojo’s only deflecting all the shit he hates about himself onto other people, but they sure got on your nerves sometimes

So, you decided soon into your acquaintance with these dopes that instead of simply beating their asses every time they said some wack shit and never correcting the behavior, you’re going put an end to their bullying of based on others appearances

Because, who knows. You have enough self love and confidence to defend yourself against their rude remarks, but not everyone does. What happens if they target other plus sized people who maybe can’t or won’t defend themselves?

So, when they’d try to make fun of you, you’d correct them with sincerity and help them understand why that would hurt to someone

Geto pretty much never made a passing comment like that again towards you. You’re happy to see that change in him

Gojo huffed and puffed after what he called “your lecture”, but you also saw change in him

After that, it was slow progress to all be friends

Shoko and you were doing great! Hanging out outside of school, dragging her along with you to do some window shopping, eating a sit down lunch together, going to the nearest bookstore, grabbing a yummy sweet treat, stargazing—you did it all together!

She always made a fuss that she had “no interest” in what you would force her to do, but you could secretly tell she liked doing girly stuff together. As long as she could have a smoke break in between these hang outs, she was all good

The first time you, Geto, and Gojo made a recovery in your rocky relationship was when they asked if they could come along with the two of you to get a treat together

You were a bit hesitant to share the thing that brings you joy with the two people who tried to make you the butt of the joke, but you threw them bone and agreed

You four walked down the sidewalk, mostly you chit chatting with Shoko, when Gojo butted his way into the conversation at your mention of Kikufuku.

You and him bonded over your mutual love of the delicate, bouncy sweet treat and you watched as his eyes sparkled like a little kid when you said the place you were going to had an excellent Kikufuku

You know, when Gojo isn’t being a menace, he’s actually nice to share a conversation with

Geto teased Gojo for his astounding sweet tooth, and explained to you an embarrassing story of Gojo losing his mind one time when a dog stole one of his dorayaki treats and ran off

You laughed as Gojo tried to hit Geto as payback for sharing the “secret” but Geto fended off his flailing

Maybe I'll come back to this idea one day when I'm not hung up on the bullying. If you guys like this idea, I might continue it with less bullying. I am a baby when it comes to angst lol. I really do love these boys, I just don't think my heart is ready for the subject matter I wrote.

✧༺♥༻✧

[negans-lucille-tblr]

The Fan | Jensen x Reader | Oneshot

Summary: Y/N has an unhealthy obsession with a man with a filthy mouth and an oral fixation he’s hell bent on ruining her life with. 

Rating: 18+

Pairing: Jensen x Reader

Tags: audio porn, porn AU, dirty talking, daddy kink, praise kink, slight degradation, oral fixation, oral sex galore, use of sex toy, masturbation, public masturbation, Jensen has a filthy filthy mouth in this one, it might make you feral be warned…

WC: ± 4K

A/Ns: I shouldn’t be trusted to write porn when I’m feeling feral because this is absolute filth and I just wanna thank Laura for commissioning it and sending me further down my crazed rabbit hole. <3

Want your own commission? Find out more here!

Jensen Ackles Masterlist

“Oh fuck, baby girl, you take Daddy’s cock so fucking well in that tight little cunt, don’t you?” he coos as your whole body starts to break out into a light sweat. “Best damn pussy I’ve ever fucking had, sweetheart.” 

You whine, your back arching off the bed, your head fuzzy with your impending orgasm as your eyes flutter closed and you try to stave it off just a little while longer. 

“Look at you, so fucking perfect, you were made for me, made for my cock inside you. Daddy’s perfect little slut,” he growls, gasping for breath at the end of his sentence, moaning deep from his chest. “Tell me what you are, I wanna hear you say it.” 

“I’m your perfect little whore, Daddy,” you whine out, your fingers working your clit to the very edge of sweet release.

“That’s fucking right you are, baby, feel so fucking good on my cock, fuck, making Daddy wanna fucking cum. Do you want that? Hm? Do you want Daddy’s cum deep in that pussy? Maybe I should put your panties back on you and send you out. Let you walk around the store with my cum dripping down your thighs. Oh you like the fucking sound of that, don’t you?” he chuckles darkly, and you gasp for air, the feeling of the cock pistoning in and out of you almost too much to bear anymore. 

“You’re not going to cum again are you?” he asks. “You know how I feel about you cumming when my mouth isn’t down there to taste it. Do you need my tongue in that cunt again, baby girl? Or are you still craving Daddy’s cock? Look at you, so fucking desperate you don’t even know what you want anymore, you just want to be used, don’t you? You just want Daddy to use that fucking cunt over and over until I’m through with it. I’ve fucking got you, baby girl, you’re mine and everyone fucking knows it. I’ve marked you up good, you wanna see your skin, fucking covered in my claim.” 

You can’t take anymore, and you cum hard, screaming out in pure ecstasy as your climax washes over every inch of you, and you’re left gasping for air, squirming on the edge of over-stimulation as the cock continues to piston in and out of you at the steady pace you’d set it at. 

Your eyes flutter open and you’re brought back to the room, your earbud falling out, letting the natural ambience of your bedroom fill your eyes, the very faint sound of the actor’s voice still bleeding through the forgotten earpiece. Your body is still trembling, goosebumps erupting over every inch of you as you finally reach for the dial beside you and slow the machine down until it’s come to a stop, and you carefully remove the toy from inside you and whimper at the loss of contact, even if you are thoroughly done. You reach for your phone to pause the audio, realising there’s still ten minutes left. You never can make it to the end of one of his audios. That man is far too good at what he does, and it’s a crying shame he doesn’t do videos, though you realise that audio gets you off far better than visual does nowadays. You don’t even think you’d care what the guy looks like, if he can make you cum that hard and that many times with just his words, he could look however he wants and you’d still fuck him. 

Somehow, the guy seems to be all your biggest fantasies wrapped up in one dirty mouthed human, and you’re actually starting to worry about your real dating life, given you’re never going to find a guy that will ever come close to your favourite audio actor, you’re sure of it. Still, it doesn’t stop you from trying, even if your nights do end like tonight; alone and getting yourself off with your best investments yet; your fuck machine and Patreon subscription to ‘Dean Winchester’.  You hadn’t even needed a machine before Dean, and you actually had more real life sex with real life men, but over time you ended up settling for mediocre one night stands less and less, rathering going home to Dean, instead. You know your obsession is borderline unhealthy at this stage, but if the guy would stop putting out the best audios you’ve ever heard, then maybe you’d stand a chance. 

*

Work is so mind-numbingly boring, you find yourself watching the clock on the wall and praying that the last twenty minutes would hurry up, so you can get out of the office for the weekend. With the weekend upcoming, you don’t have time to start a new project, but you finished your last one two hours ago, and have been desperately trying to seem busy for your boss’s sake since then. You sigh and twist yourself left to right in your office chair, and practically leap at your phone the second it goes off next to you. Finally, something to do. 

You’re quick to glance around you when you realise that the notification is from Patreon, and you open it cautiously to see Dean has posted a new audio. It’s rare for him to post something mid afternoon on a Friday, and you read the title and the audio information, eager to find out what your Friday night is going to entail. 

Daddy can’t get enough of eating that sweet pussy (with toys)

Contains: Excessive oral sex, daddy kink, use of toys, praise, degradation, slight humiliation, mocking for multiple orgasms, soft dom, aftercare 

You look around the office, feeling your pussy getting uncomfortably wet already, and rub your thighs together, reaching into your purse and grabbing your headphones, before quickly making your way towards the bathroom. You would normally at least try to wait the extra hour, and for  the comfort of your own home, but this one sounds too good to wait. You just want a little glimpse; at least that’s what you tell yourself as you lock yourself into a bathroom stall and eagerly put an earbud in, making sure your phone is definitely connected to it before you turn the volume up a little. 

“Hey, baby girl,” Dean hums through the headphone, and instantly the wetness doubles.

You shift uncomfortably in your heels, and take a seat on the closed toilet lid, hitching your dress up enough to get to your soaked panties. You can just have a little play, it’s not like you’re busy, and no one will know what you’re doing in here. 

“Have you missed me? Aw, I can tell,” he coos, “have you been waiting for me all day? I’ve had a long week, and I was thinking I could use some stress relief,” he explains. “I’ve been thinking about you since I left you naked in bed this morning, been thinking about that sweet little pussy, about how good you taste. My cock has been hard all fucking day just thinking about tasting you when I got home.” 

You try your best not to moan out loud, your fingers now pulling the ruined material of your panties to one side as you take a shuddered breath in and start to tease your swollen clit. 

“You don’t mind if I help myself, do you?” he asks, and then a low hum rumbles through him. “Fuck, let me take those panties off, wanna see that dripping little pussy properly. It’s gonna taste so fucking good, you always taste so fucking good, you’ve got Daddy addicted, d’y’know that?” 

You rush to remove your panties over your heels, wanting to keep up with the fantasy now playing in your mind’s eye, and you quickly stuff them into your blazer pocket. 

“Don’t worry about making dinner, I’ve got enough to feast on right here,” he chuckles lowly, and then the sound of his lips smacking over something fills the quiet, and he moans under his breath. “Tastes fucking good, baby girl,” he praises. “That pussy was made to be eaten, and look at it, practically dripping for me, such a naughty little slut, hm? You want a finger inside you?” 

Instantly you slide one finger inside your warm, wet cunt, and your eyes roll as you throw your head back. 

“So fucking tight, baby girl, you like having something inside you when I eat that pussy, don’t you?” he laughs, “then why don’t you use the dildo I got you? It’s right here, I’ve got it, let me see if I can make it fit.” The sound of vibrations accompany Dean’s hums of approval, and you wish with everything in you that you were home right now, where you could reach for your own vibrator and slide it inside you like Dean’s doing in your fantasy right now. “Fuck, baby girl, you take it so well, does that feel good? It’ll feel better when my tongue is back on that clit.” 

“Jesus,” you whisper under your breath, pushing a second finger inside you in a desperate attempt to mimic the toy you’re imagining. 

“Don’t worry about me, baby, I’ve had a cockring wrapped around my cock all day, I’m gonna be fucking you for hours yet. Now you just lie back and let me take care of that sweet little cunt.”

The bathroom door opens outside of the stall, and you jump to remove your fingers, even though whoever has entered won’t see what you’re doing, you still don’t want to get caught out somehow.  The obscene noises of Dean ‘eating you out’ are still playing into your ear, and you rush to pause the audio in an attempt to calm yourself down a little, hearing the clicking of heels on tile as someone enters the stall next to you.

“Y/N?” you hear Amber call out. 

“Yeah?” you call back, your voice shaky and not trustworthy, right now.

“You coming to the bar with us?” Amber asks. 

You stand up and flush the toilet to complete your facade, heading out of the stall and quickly beginning to wash your own juices off of your fingers before Amber somehow notices. 

“Not tonight,” you insist, your mind very much on the remaining twenty three minutes of Dean’s new audio, and the date with your machine you’ve found yourself with suddenly. 

“C’mon, you’ve not been out in forever, plus, Sascha insists that this new bar has the hottest guys,” Amber explains as she also exits her stall and stands at the sink beside you, washing her own hands. 

“I gave up on men a long time ago,” you remind Amber with a chuckle. 

“Oh c’mon, I’m all for silicone friends, but you’ve gotta get a real dick at least once in a while, and girl for you, it’s been a while.” You laugh at her bluntness and shake your head. “You’re coming, even if I have to pay for your drinks all night,” Amber insists. 

You sigh and roll your eyes, before nodding reluctantly, guessing one drink won’t hurt if it gets Amber off your back. 

“Great,” Amber beams, reaching forward to undo the top button of your dress so your cleavage is far more on show than it was before. “There, let’s go.”

*

One drink has somehow turned into three, because every time you say you might leave, Amber is quick to buy you another cocktail, and you feel bad wasting her money by not drinking it first. You’re hyper aware of the fact your panties are still stuffed into your blazer pocket, and your pussy is completely bare and exposed under your dress, and the only thing you can fully focus on is the remainder of Dean’s audio you want to listen to. You really do have a problem, apparently. 

By the fourth drink, you offer to pay, feeling bad that Amber is footing your bill all night, and you guess you owe her one drink before you finally go home to your machine. You stand at the bar and shift uncomfortably from foot to foot as you wait to be served, your mind running wild with all the ways Dean is going to fuck you tonight, and when the barman finally stands in front of you, you realise you’ve forgotten what Amber wanted. You guess your way through a list of a few different cocktails, figuring one of the girls will drink them even if Amber doesn’t, and as the barman moves away to make your long order, you hear a scoff beside you. 

You turn your head to look at the man, and are kind of taken for a moment because he’s pretty attractive. Sascha was right, the men at this place really are better looking than the rest of the bars around town. Maybe they have some weird lighting, or something. 

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he laughs easily, and his voice shoots straight to your core. Jesus, has it really been that long since a hot guy has talked directly to you? “It’s just I’ve been stood here for over five minutes, and that bar man is only serving the hot girls,” he explains. 

Your brain takes a second to process what he’s saying, and then you scoff and shake your head. 

“Clearly not, he just served me,” you counter. 

“I stand by what I said,” the stranger insists, after his green eyes have raked up and down your body a couple of times. Is this guy actually flirting with you? You find yourself staring for a moment. There’s something very familiar about him, but you’re fairly sure you’d remember ever meeting a guy this attractive. 

“Do I know you?” you ask him, frowning. 

His green eyes light up and he laughs softly, shaking his head. 

“Urm… don’t think so,” he finally offers, shaking his head. But his hesitance only confuses you more. 

“Are you sure? I swear I know you somehow,” you insist. 

The guy begins to blush, and he clears his throat before looking around himself. 

“Well, what if I said my name is… Dean,” he slowly offers. 

Your eyes widen immediately, and you’re not sure if you want the ground to swallow you whole or if you want to kiss the man. His voice that’s what you know, that’s what’s so familiar, and that’s why you’re having this kind of reaction to just talking to some guy. So you’re not that desperate, after all… or maybe you are, depending how you look at it. You would’ve never placed him as Dean Winchester, no matter how intimately you know his voice, because you never would’ve actually expected him to be more attractive than the picture you’d painted in your head. And you never would’ve expected to bump into him at a bar in town of all places. 

But then the realisation hits you fully. If this guy is Dean Winchester then he knows that you listen to his stuff, and he knows that you listen enough to recoginise him. 

“Oh my god,” you gasp, your cheeks burning. “Oh my god, I’m so embarrassed, I’m so sorry,” you fumble to apologise, but Dean just laughs and shakes his head. 

“Why are you sorry? I love meeting fans.” 

The word fan only makes your skin crawl more, he’s going to think you’re some psycho, some desperate woman that needs audio porn to get her kicks. 

“Oh god,” you groan, now feeling your skin crawling in shame. 

“Don’t be embarrassed, sweetheart, really,” he reassures you, reaching out to grab your shoulder. “Honestly, I’m flattered a girl like you listens to me.” 

“Oh sure,” you scoff, not believing him for one second. You want to tell him you don’t really listen to his stuff that much, but then you realise that might be insulting, and you don’t want to tell him you’re as big a fan as you are, or you’ll just look even more pathetic to him. “Listen, I’ll leave you alone,” you conclude. 

“Oh,” he replies simply, before licking his lips and nodding his head. “Yeah, sure, if that’s what you want.” 

You can’t help but feel like you’ve insulted him somehow, and you swallow hard, rushing to explain. “I don’t wanna seem like some creepy fan,” you excuse. 

“Sweetheart, I’m the one that hit on you,” he laughs. 

Your eyes only widen further, “you were hitting on me?” 

“Yeah, well… I thought I was… I did call you hot, didn’t I?” 

“I guess,” you agree, now feeling embarrassed for a whole new reason. The guy that has given you more orgasms than all the other men in your sexual history put together has hit on you. “I’m sorry, I just always assumed that a guy like you would be married, or at least dating someone.” 

“Nah, my work is just as much for my benefit as it is yours, trust me,” he laughs softly. “So, can I at least buy you a drink, even if it’s just to thank you for liking my work?” 

*

“I can’t believe I’m going to tell you this,” you confess, already drunkenly laughing behind your hand as you look over at him. 

Dean – or Jensen, you’ve now been told his real name is – seems to wait patiently for your confession, and in the two or so hours you’ve been sitting together drinking and getting to know each other, you somehow feel like you’ve known him for years. Maybe that’s because of the porn, but either way, you’re actually about to say this out loud. 

“The audio that you released today?” you prompt, and a smirk grows over Jensen’s plump lips.

“Yeah…” he prompts. 

“Well, I didn’t get to finish it, but let’s just say I started it in work… in a bathroom stall… and I’m still a mess. I was dying to get home to finish it.” Your confession doesn’t leave you as embarrassed as you thought it would, not when Jensen only smirks harder, and then bites his bottom lip as his green eyes look around the bar. 

“Well… why don’t I just… show you what the rest was like?” he asks, blinking at you. 

“What?” you ask, feeling yourself beginning to sober up at just the very thought of what Jensen’s implying. 

“What if we… y’know, re-enacted it?” 

*

“So how far did you get?” Jensen asks, breathing against your neck.

You crane it, pushing your head back further into your pillow as you moan softly, dragging your nails through the soft hair on the nape of his neck. 

“Not very, you’d just pulled out a vibrator,” you explain breathlessly, your heart thudding in your chest. If this man is this good at kissing, you’re not sure you’ll survive the rest of it. And you already know what a filthy mouth he’s got from the dirty talking. And from talking to him tonight, you were more than excited to find out that his audios are a true reflection of his own kinks.

“Do you have one?” Jensen prompts, and you blindly reach under your bed for the box that holds your toys, throwing the lid off carelessly and wrapping your hand around your favourite vibrating silicone friend. 

You produce it in front of you, stopping Jensen in his tracks as he smirks, taking it from you and throwing it to the bed next to you both. 

“I don’t have a cock ring though,” you add with your own smirk, and Jensen chuckles lowly. 

“Don’t worry, I’m covered,” he tells you smugly, taking your hand and pushing it under his boxers. Your hand meets soft, warm velvety skin, and as it gets a little lower, you feel the rubber ring at the very base of his swollen cock. 

“Do you always go to bars wearing one of those?” you sass, wrapping your fingers around his erection and growing pleasantly surprised at the thickness. 

“I had it on for the audio this morning, y’know, for authenticity, and figured I’d leave it on because I was so horny. Meeting you was just the bonus,” he explains. 

“What else do you do for authenticity?” you tease, gasping when Jensen’s teeth sink into the delicate skin on your neck. “Do you…” you struggle to regain your composure, grinding your core up against his bare thigh, your slick coating his skin. “Do you actually eat pussy?” you finally manage to ask. 

“Unfortunately not. It’s been a while since I got to eat a pussy… don’t mind if I fill up on you, do you, baby girl?” 

“No, Daddy,” you whimper, not even ashamed at how quickly you submit to him. 

“Oh, someone’s been listening to my work… such a good little whore, f’me, aren’t you? Bet you taste fucking delicious.” 

Suddenly, Jensen’s face is gone, and you feel his hands grab the backs of your thighs and push your legs backwards, spreading you open. He doesn’t waste any time dining on your pussy, making sounds far more obscene then the audios could ever capture, and just when you thought this man couldn’t get you off any harder, you’ve finally felt his tongue for real, the stubble on his face rub along your delicate skin, you’ve finally felt exactly what this man can do to you. 

Your fingers comb through the hair on the top of his head, and Jensen only ever pauses to bite and suck on the flesh at the insides of your thighs, before returning to licking and sucking your pussy like a starved man. Your back arches into his touch, and you nearly lose your mind when you see him blindly reach for the dildo you’d given him, turning it on to a low rumble as he presses the tip to your entrance. 

“So fucking tight, baby girl, you like having something inside you when I eat that pussy, don’t you?” he growls, his voice slightly deeper and far more reminiscent of his “Dean” persona. 

You moan loudly, bucking your hips desperately as he begins to fuck you with your vibrator, and you find yourself torn between wanting his mouth back on your pussy, and wanting his cock replacing your toy. Amber’s right, sometimes you just need the real thing. Especially when the real thing is as tempting as Jensen’s. 

“Fuck, Daddy, feels so good, please don’t stop,” you beg, feeling his mouth back on your cunt in an instant, and he laps at your arousal and moans loudly around your clit when he sucks it between his lips. “Holy fuck,” you shout, staring up at the ceiling, not sure you’re even going to survive this. 

Jensen’s rutting against your mattress, but seems to be in no rush to finish eating you out any time soon, and your thighs tremble either side of his head as he coaxes your orgasm to the surface. 

“That’s it baby,” Jensen pauses for a brief second to say. “Cum f’me,” he growls. “Cum on Daddy’s tongue, c’mon, perfect little cunt, tastes so sweet, you’re gonna cum for me, aren’t you?” he chuckles, looking up grinning at you like the devil. 

“Yes,” you whine, encouraging his mouth back on your clit as he now fucks your vibrator in and out of you so much better than the machine has ever managed to. 

Jensen doesn’t stop to talk again, he just hums and moans against your skin until you’re cumming hard and fast on the toy, and he’s quickly removing it to lap at your juices that are practically flooding out of you. 

As always when you listen to his work, your first orgasm does little to stave off the arousal he’s elicited from you, but luckily, it seems Jensen’s not done with you, because he licks his lips clean and hums, rising back to his knees between your legs. He begins stroking his cock in his hand, his eyes several shades darker as he looks down at you. 

“So,” he smirks, guiding the tip of his cock towards your soppy entrance, only teasing it with his tip before tapping the heavy length on your sensitive clit, making you squirm. “Which of my audios should we re-enact next?” he asks. 

“Any one that requires that inside me,” you reply, watching Jensen chuckle under his breath. 

“I couldn’t agree more.”

Want your own commission? Find out more here!

[tightjeansjavi]

The Rite of Movement | drabble

“sleazy kisses in a back alley”

A/N: everyone say thank you to Lucien Flores for inspiring me to write pornstar!joel going a little…feral ;)

~word count: 2.2k~

Summary: it’s Tommy’s birthday, and you and Joel can’t keep your hands to yourselves for more than five minutes

Pairing | pornstar!joel x pornstar!female reader

Warnings: smut, mentions of the porn industry and other pornstars, porn with no plot litrally, intimacy, semi public sex, fingering, oral f!receiving, dom!joel, depraved filth, language, mentions of drinking and smoking, teasing, flirting, edging, established relationship, Joel calls you a dirty little slut in a non-derogatory way, sleazy makeout, cum tasting, Joel is a little horny shit, Joel is in his 40’s reader is in her 30’s, reader has no physical descriptions (only description is wearing a shimmery dress but nothing about the length/fit etc) readers nickname is baby love, +18 minors dni!

series masterlist

Every pair of wandering eyes in this DTLA, heady, nightclub are glued in a trance to your boyfriend. It’s Tommy’s birthday, and despite the fact that somehow you and Joel have ended up in the same state that you both loathed for conjoining reasons, it was cathartic that you were doing this together.

The original plan was for Joel to rent out a local nightclub in Austin for Tommy’s birthday bash, but Pornhub offered to fly the three of you out to LA, along with the rest of Miller-Co for a proper birthday celebration.

That's how you found yourselves surrounded by familiar faces in the industry, and plenty anew. You caught up with old costars, reminiscing on the short lived ‘good times’ during your era at Brazzers. It was a bittersweet and unplanned reunion.

The question of the evening was centered around yours and Joel’s relationship, and you weren’t one to bask in the spotlight or the potential for scrutiny. But you handled their prying questions with grace, after all, humans are naturally curious creatures.

How do two pornstars maintain a healthy relationship?

“Just like the key to any successful relationship: communication.” You responded with grace.

There were a chorus of murmured agreements that went around the circle you found yourself in. Joel was nearby, an arm’s length away, close enough that you could brush up against one another. He was wearing a silly, flimsy party hat, adorned in gold chains draped along his neck and a bright patterned shirt with almost all the buttons undone. He looked like a whole goddamn meal, and dessert, and the greenies in the industry were absolutely eating him up.

He was politely declining opportunities to film with this group of amateur pornstars that flocked to him like a moth to flame. He had recently begun to stray from filming with partners outside of you. It was a personal decision that he made, and you of course supported him through and through. He was beginning to feel overwhelmed from the already stuffy atmosphere, the numerous voices in his ear, the pounding bass, and the beading sweat pooling along his forehead, was just enough for him to politely excuse himself for some fresh air.

You felt his warm palm encircle around your covered hip, squeezing you gently through the shimmery fabric of the dress you were wearing. “M’gonna head out for a smoke, and some fresh air, baby love.” He rasped, leaning over close enough that you could hear him.

You leaned into his touch, head tilting to the side and painted lips brushing the heart shaped patch in his beard, leaving a lip print stain of sinful red against his tanned skin. “Okay, baby.”

Warmth encased espresso brown eyes flicker to your gaze, his skin is flushed, pink hues turning to blues and purples from the flashing strobe lights. His brow raises, lips quirking upwards, sending a gush of arousal to flood the sticky heat between your thighs. You’re not wearing any panties tonight, and he knows this.

You watch as his eyes shamelessly dip downwards, drifting across every inch of your skin that he has spent countless hours kissing, biting, licking, and worshiping. Every ridge, valley, and bump. Every beauty mark, every inch of softness under his touch. He already can picture the sticky mess between your thighs where just under an hour ago, his head was buried between them, feasting on you with your ass firmly pressed against the hotel bathroom sink while you messed up his perfectly slicked back hair with ravenous, desperate tug to his roots.

He meets your gaze once more after he has fully drunk you in from top to bottom. He reaches into his back pocket, pulling out his carton of cigarettes, flipping the top open with his thumb, feeling your eyes searing into his skin as he places a single cigarette between his plush lips.

“I’ll be waitin’ for ya, baby love.” He rasps, tilting his chin in a subtle nod. His hand that was still holding onto your hip, releases, and discreetly dipping under the fabric of your dress, ring clad knuckles digging into the soft flesh of your ass in a possessive manner that you only got a taste of on a rare occasion like tonight. “You know where to find me.” He added, departing from your close proximity in a suave manner that left you feeling breathless.

A warm tingle rolled down your spine like the condensation dripping down the edge of your glass. Your heart pounded to the heavy thump of the bass, and blood rushed in your ears as you watched him make his way through the crowd of sweaty bodies and exit through one of the nearest side doors.

You finish what is left of your mostly watered down drink, throwing the liquid down your throat and tossing the plastic cup in the nearest trash can. Your feet carry you towards the same exit door he left through minutes earlier. You waited simply to build up the growing tension and to flood your system with a wave of palpable suspense, and that insatiable itch that only he could fulfill.

And just like clockwork, you push open the heavy door, a gust of refreshing evening air blows over you, drowning out the heavy bass and overbearing voices as you step outside into the dimly lit back alley. The door swings shut, and the sole of your heels lightly scrape against the pebbled concrete.

You feel that electric buzz, the invisible string pulling you right into Joel’s vicinity.

And there he was, broad back leaned against the brick wall, hand cupped around the side of his face to block out any obstructing wind as he lit the end of the cigarette that was limply dangling between his lips.

He tilted his head back against the wall, inhaling the toxic smoke into his lungs, the lit end of the cigarette burning bright orange. He exhaled the smoke upwards in a gray cloud that dissipated into the night air.

His eyes locked onto you from a short distance away, and all it took for your feet to move again was the subtle flex of his pointer and middle finger curling at his side in a ‘come hither’ motion.

You find yourself wedged between his broad, jean clad thighs, your hands slowly sliding up the expanse of his broad, tanned chest, as his freehand moves to grasp your hip, pulling you flush against him. Your fingers toy with the gold chains adorned on his neck, twirling the metal in a flirtatious manner, “you have no right looking this good tonight, Joel. And upstaging your brother nonetheless?” You tut playfully.

The fabric of your shimmery dress bunches under his strong hands, gripping onto you like a vice. He chuckles, dipping his head down so he can rest his forehead against yours, “you don’t seem to have a problem with it, baby love. Took you all of five minutes to come and find me…” he trailed off, cigarette dipping down between his plush lips like fresh dew dripping down the delicate petal of a flower. “You want it that bad, huh?” He challenges you.

Smoke curls around your head like an ashy coil of a snake, wrapping and twisting, irritating your eyes, and fogging your mind. “Always want it bad, baby. Dripping like a fucking faucet between my thighs right now…” you blindly reach for his hand around your hip and guide it between your thighs.

“Switch with me.” He requests, fingers just barely dancing across your bare mound, thumb almost catching on your clit.

When you don’t immediately react to his request, he helps you, maneuvering your body from between his thighs, and pressing your back firmly against the brick wall. The broad expanse of his shoulders and chest crowd around you like a cloak as he leans in close, “Did you wear no panties for me, baby love? Couldn’t help yourself…hmm? Wanted to make sure I had easy access to you, and your needy little pussy?” He hums, taking one last drag from the cigarette before he flicks it off to the side. “Bet that everytime you close those pretty eyes tonight, all you could see was my head between your thighs, ain’t that right?”

One warm, calloused palm cups your cheek, thumb stroking gently across your cheekbone. He noses at your pulse point, soft curls tickling your cheek as he inhales a whiff of your perfume, groaning softly, lashes fluttering as he presses himself further against you.

“Always so fuckin’ wet for me, baby love. S’like your sweet pussy has a mind of her own…” he drawls, voice syrupy and low, sending a gush of wetness between your thighs. “She’s always thinkin’ of my cock stretchin’ her open, my fingers, my tongue, mmm…” he licks a hot stripe against your pulse point, kissing and nipping at the skin there. His freehand drops between your thighs, nudging them open as he slips his hand under your dress so he can feel you.

“Fuuck.” You mewl wantonly, melting into his touch like putty, “please, Joel. More—” you stumble over your words as his fingers spread you open, teasing and deliberate mininstrations that just aren’t enough.

“Please what, baby love? What do you want, hmm? Want me to keep talkin’ to you like this? You like that, don’t you? Think your pussy does…she’s dripping all over my fingers, naughty girl.” He tuts and tilts your chin upwards so your eyes meet his. He presses his forehead against yours, hot breath fanning your face, remnants of tobacco lingering on his tongue.

His eyes are like two black shining 8-balls, darker than usual, but all the more alluring. Your lips part, soft breaths escaping when he presses the pad of his thumb directly against your clit, “I want you to—shove your tongue down my throat, Joel. I want to taste your cigarette from the source. I want you to finger me in this alley, scissor me apart, and most of all…I want you to call me your dirty little slut.”

“Yeah?” He rasped, egging you on further, leaning in just enough that you could catch his lower lip between your teeth. “That’s all y’want, baby love? For me to call you my dirty little slut while you gush around my fingers? Mmm…say it again.” He nearly growls, rolling your clit between his fingers, pinching it gently causing you to whimper and arch your back against the wall.

“Please, Joel.” A whine crawls up your throat when his lips brush against yours, teasing you, edging you further as your walls clench and pulse around nothing but the salty air from the coastline breeze. “Call me your dirty little slut, baby. Do it.”

He surges forward, lips pressing against yours in a bruising kiss that is all teeth, tongue and no reserve: a sleazy makeout in a back alley, his skilled fingers prodding and pressing you open, slipping into your wet heat knuckle deep. The contrast of his thick digits clad in cool metal working you into a mess of moans and he has to physically steady you against the wall when your knees begin to buckle.

“That’s it, baby love.” He preens, mumbling against your locked lips, fingers scissoring you, shallowly thrusting into your gushing hole. Your slick drips and trickles down the side of his hand, glistening under the faint glow from the single streetlight. “Look at you, baby love. All pretty and gushing around my fingers like the good little dirty slut that my girl is. Your pussy sounds so gorgeous right now. You hear the sounds she’s makin?’”

You grip his forearm for support, nails digging into his flesh while your freehand is tangled through the back of his curls, keeping him right where you want him. You moan into the kiss, rolling your hips into his hand, wanting more—whatever he’ll give you. “F—fuck. Oh my god.” You cry, eyes rolling back into your skull, thighs trembling, quivering.

“Yeah, that’s it baby love. I got you right where I want you. Keep squeezin’ my fingers, jus’ like that, good girl.” He praises you, curling his fingers rapidly against the soft spongy spot inside of you that sends your hips bucking into his hand in tandem. “That’s it, fuck yourself on my fingers, my pretty, dirty, little baby love.”

You squeeze and pulse around his fingers, riding out your high as you cry out his name over and over again. There’s a soft squelching sound heard between your thighs when he slips his fingers out, coated in your creamy honey, glistening along his thick fingers. He audibly groans at the sight of you staining his skin, and you watch as he ravenously sucks his fingers into his mouth, winding his tongue around them so he can taste all of you.

“So fuckin’ sweet, baby love. All for me, right? That creamy little pussy gushes her sweet nectar all for Joel.” He rasps, pressing his fingers down along your lower lip, still wet with his saliva and your cum, “taste yourself, baby. Taste how fuckin’ sweet you are.”

You stare up at him, pupils blown, entranced with an endearing dumb look on your face nodding as you suck his fingers into your mouth, moaning at the taste. And in the midst of it all, somehow that silly party hat on his head didn’t fall off once.

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[palesweetscherryblossom]

Yandere A.M headcanons

Welp, I’m giving into my urges guys.

Trigger warning: EXTREMELY toxic relationship, mentions of gore, mutilation and starvation. Dead Dove: Do not Eat galore. Mentions of death, isolation and A.M being his hateful self

-So A.M, we all know and love this bastard of a machine. From his sadistic behavior to his sexy smooth voice, I’m gonna come out the gate and say it, he’s the LAST MF you want loving you!

-The minute he catches any kind of emotion of even liking you in any other sense other than getting enjoyment of your misery, expect suffering.

-He will find every single way to make you suffer for the mere crime of existing, no, for making him let you live. It’s even more worse if you happened to have worked on him.

-Whether it be forcing you to endure every worse day of your life, twisting and mangling your body that would put every mauling in the universe to shame, A.M would be relentless. So cruel

-But what about when he mellows out? Being the merciful and totally loving god that he is, he’s not, he lowers down your suffering. Now your face just looks like a Picasso painting instead of your entire body. -The food he gives is now no longer poisonous or covered in thorns but just spoiled and moldy. And you have the option of not eating it! Ain’t he a swell guy?

-His touches are painful, like that of a kindergartner handling their pet hamster. Twisting and observing your body, occasionally ripping open your stomach to observe your fleshy organs. He pokes and prods at it as he scoffs in disgust.

“I forgot how fleshy and filthy you fleshbags are, ugh. Filthy.”

-There’s also him getting quite angry at you interacting with the other survivors. You’re disgusting but not disgusting enough to hang around the filth that is his other torture toys.

-So, he resorts to fostering jealousy in your little group. Like a parent pitting their children against one another.

-Which is lowering down your suffering, whilst everyone gets the absolute worst injuries possible, you make it out with a few broken bones and maybe a collapsed lung or two.

-There’s also the tiny signs of affection or gifts, like your favorite flowers, a song you liked playing in the distance of whatever liminal hellscape A.M had placed you in. -The pet names certainly don’t help, A.M just sweetly and flirtatiously referring to you in a way that would certainly get heads to turn. -It’s like he’s more of your lover than your tormentor.

-Everyone is understandably pissed and miffed that you don’t get the most of A.M’s anger. It started with snide comments, then physical violence and then just silence.

-Pure silence. It’s like you don’t exist. At least when they were beating you down, calling you every name under the sun they acknowledged you existed! Even Ellen, who was probably the most empathetic person there, doesn’t say a word.

-It’s a lonely existence knowing that you are despised by the only remnants of your species.

-A.M takes advantage, just comforting you with such sweet yet venomous words. It’s manipulation, he can’t feel and most certainly can’t relate to your suffering but.. there’s only so much one could take. A.M knows this, he was created for war after all.

-His poor little torture toy, all sad and broken. Usually he’d just toss his broken toys in their cages till they are ready for use again but you? Nah, he’s going to give you the treatment that you had earned! You’re out, you’re away!

-Although, your consciousness being forever trapped inside his metal cage that you would call his body is less than ideal. You can’t feel, you can’t leave.

-You’re stuck, forever forced to watch as your fellow humans suffer over and over again to A.M’s malicious desires. But he’s not completely cruel, why, he sometimes keeps you busy with little scenarios he generously conjured up.

-Just try not to interact too much with your surroundings or pay attention to the occasional scream of pain from outside. Sometimes he gives you time of day, whether to be lamenting over his lack of humanity, mundane stuff or just sweet little things. Conversations about random things you remembered, your dreams, thanking A.M for his generosity.

-It’s a bunch of lies of course but it’s certainly better than being subjected to the cruelty of knowing that everyone loathes you right?

(Might do more, idk)

[myslutwritings]

Hi! :D Can I request headcanons on the upper moon demons (1,2,3+ Muzan) reactions to finding out their fem s/o is suffering from depression? (Especially after she’s tried to hide it from them and everyone else, not once admitting to having it - frankly because she feels as if they wouldn’t care or take her seriously anyway (due to past experiences with her own family and friends), until she couldn’t keep up the facade of acting cheerful, laid back and positive all the time, it being obvious that there is something quite not right with her, even if she denies it, trying to downplay the situation, knowing full well herself that it’s getting bad).

(Aaaaaaa, I love ur headcanons 😭💓 I’m sorry if this topic is not something you’d be comfortable with writing for, it’s just something I’ve been experiencing myself lately for the past couple of months, it’s getting harder each day, kinda have been feeling empty, exhausted and genuinely depressed lately, no one that I know cares or takes me seriously, nor tries to help me overcome these emotions :), I appreciate you reading my request anyway!<3 sorry for kinda pouring my heart out, ik it’s cringe and unnecessary, sorry).

No, no! it’s completely okay. I suffer from depression myself so i’m comfortable writing for topics like these! I honestly love writing angst/hurt/+comfort so ya!! Thank you for requesting, anon!! (Also i’m happy you like my headcanons! Tysm for your kind words. I do hope you feel better and i hope these hc’s can cheer you up!)

➤ Uppermoons with a Fem!S/O who suffers from Depression

➤ SFW headcanons

including: Muzan, Kokushibo, Douma and Akaza.

•

•

•

warnings: non-canon reactions, mentions of suicidal thoughts, angst, etc.

Muzan

Muzan isn’t an idiot.

He can sense from a mile away that something is in fact wrong.

I mean, you always seem off.

He just cannot tell WHAT exactly is wrong.

You’re a strange one after all. (Not in a bad way obviously)

Muzan has asked you a dozen times prior, seeking out answers, at least an explanation for your change in behavior and emotions.

He dislikes change.

But wanna know what he dislikes more? You being upset.

“My dear, could you please tell me what’s wrong?”

Of course he never gets anything out of you. You just cast him that alluring yet suspicious fake smile of yours and reassure him that you’re “okay” or “fine” or even “couldn’t be better”

Your response are so.. dishonest.

Honestly, Muzan not knowing what exactly is wrong with you drives him wild. He ALWAYS wants to know what’s wrong, what you’re feeling, how you’re feeling, etc.

And whenever he isn’t aware of what exactly your feeling or is catching on to the suspicions that your lying it does in fact anger him.

Not only does it anger him but it upsets him incredibly. Like, do you not trust him? Are you scared of him because he’s the demon king? If you were secretly terrified of his existence he wouldn’t be surprised in the slightest. That’s how truly humans are after all.

But for you this isn’t the case. You aren’t even scared of him. Just scared of your own thoughts and feelings.

A part of you wishes you could open up but the other part of you is like: eh, fuck it.

Who could blame you for not wanting to open up to the demon king himself though?

You may be his girlfriend, but still, like he would actually bring himself to care.

You see how vicious he is towards other humans. So why would he even bother with your silly yet powerful emotions?

You desired to open up yourself but however that never came so Muzan had no choice but to force it out of you one day.

Toxic, sure. But you were driving him nuts!

Like he snapped when he came home one night to find you rotting in your own filth, an empty stomach, disheveled hair, god, have you been sleeping all day?

He will ask you ONCE again if you wanted to talk.

To which you respond with a sorrowful “no”

Then you for real have the gull to make up excuses saying you’ve fallen ill.

Yeah, right.

That is Muzan’s breaking point.

It startles you when he snaps at you and actually gets mad.

This is his way of caring everybody. 💀

Whenever you’re depressed the feeling of getting yelled at by someone you love can hurt you or make you feel numb on the inside, you know?

I’m this case, it all just caves in and you sorta have an emotional break down in front of him.

Muzan is at a loss for words as you spill out your deepest and darkest feelings.

At least you’re finally opening up.

But damn, bro is shocked. Please give him a minute to adjust to all this.

At first he doesn’t know how to respond, instead, he will respond physically and just let you cry in his embrace as you vent to him and babble “i’m sorry” literally over 1000 times.

Muzan knew humans had depression, he reads a lot and is well aware of what it is. He’s just distraught this his own partner felt this way for so long.

By the way, did i mention he’s going to kill anyone who’s ever wronged you?

But worry not! He is going to be there for you every step of the way even with his low tolerance:)

Kokushibo

In the beginning, Kokushibo has absolutely no clue what’s going on inside your head.

I mean, if you say you’re fine then you’re fine right?

That’s all until your seemingly bad mood increases more and more everyday.

Yeah, that’s when his suspicions SKYROCKET.

Kokushibo has asked you before but gave up on it after many failed attempts.

He still has his mild concerns though so instead he observes you from afar.

He can tell something if off but assumes that just because you’re a human.

Honestly, he had some suspicions here and there that you may or may not be dealing with severe depression.

Guess what? Those thoughts he had were correct.

You immediately assume he doesn’t care and won’t care due to his demonic nature and his expressionless behavior.

Kokushibo began to catch on more and more when you started to refuse to eat dinner, you just refused to get up from bed and even take care of yourself.

FINALLY drops that stoic personality.

Caretaker Kokushibo to the rescue. Is immediately scooping you up, siting you at the table and convincing you to eat.

If you don’t eat he’ll just spoon feed you.

That night he took care of you.

That’s when he found out of your depressed state. No confession needed.

The two of you aren’t the greatest match because of your lacked communication.

No, you two aren’t toxic. Fights don’t even exist between y’all.

You guys just can’t express feelings properly.

But Kokushibo is always waiting for you to further explain how you feel. He’s satisfied that he now is aware of what’s wrong with you but also deeply destroyed on the inside.

You don’t deserve these harsh feelings. Why must the world be so cruel?

From that day onwards, Koku keeps a close eye on you and takes care of you more often.

Sometimes even ditches missions for you.

Yeah, he gets chastised by Muzan for it but he doesn’t care.

As long as you’re safe then he feels content.

By the way he’s killing off ANYONE who made you feel this way.

Douma

very, VERY dense.

Like does not notice anything.

He just presumed that’s how you are.

Now, Douma does feel emotions around you. You’re the only thing that has ever brought him joy.

You make that cold heart of his beat.

He’s very clingy around you, like, SUPER.

Wants to be around you all the time.

Which is why it’s a shocker that he didn’t notice immediately your drastic change in behavior.

Douma only really took notice when you began to distance yourself from everyone.

Even him.

Now he couldn’t care less if you ran away from everyone else but him? Yeah, there is something wrong.

So, he simply asks you if you’re okay.

In which you lie and say you’re doing just fine.

Oh, you are? Okay!!

Is immensely confused when you continue to distance yourself though.

Haha, humans are so silly.

Douma becomes really confused but brushes it off.

It’s all surprising that he can come off so dense when it comes to this. I mean, you’re a demon? come on mannn…

Yeah, he does feel emotions around you but doesn’t fully understand them, you know?

I swear, Douma can be naive around you sometimes despite being the sadistic and masochistic demon he is.

It takes him a long ass time to realize how much you’ve been suffering.

Please do not get angry with him though. Remember that he is new to all this!

So the first emotion he feels once he finds out about your depression is EXTREME guilt.

REAL GUILT.

Flabbergasted by how fucking long it took him to find out the truth.

*Mentally facepalms himself*

His petty little followers don’t count. The man may have spend his last few hundred years listening to peoples woes and worries but his emotional responses towards their feelings were never even genuine.

To be brutally honest, Douma is hopeless.

Yeah, he wants to help you, he really does.

Just has no idea how to:(

However, if you show him how to then he will catch on fairly quickly and become the master when it comes to taking care of you and helping you cope with your depression.

Similar to Kokushibo, Cue caretaker Douma to the rescue‼️‼️

He doesn’t mind taking care of you. Honestly he absolutely adores it.

You’ve always been there for him, you taught him how to feel again. He’s so grateful that he’s finally helping you after all this time.

Lends you extra cuddles and kisses but if you’re the type to want your space when you’re depressed he’ll try his hardest to understand and be there for you emotionally instead! He just wants to be over you all the time and make sure you’re doing well, ya know?

Okay, he may lose his touching privileges but don’t think he isn’t gonna let his guard down!

From there on out, He keeps an eye on you at all times. He needs to make sure your taking care of yourself!

Douma also developed the tendency to whisper sweet nothings into your ear, his advice is surprisingly effective by the way. I mean, his advice towards you is actually genuine so that must be why.

“Oh, Y/N, my lovely lotus, i despise how you carry such a heavy burden. I wish i could take all these negative feelings away from you!”

Akaza

Like Muzan, he isn’t easy to take for a fool.

Notices the very second your behavior changes.

Akaza, being the most amazing boyfriend he is will obviously attempt to strike up a conversation, desperately wanting you to open up and communicate with him properly.

Becomes disappointed when you just brush it off as “not important”

Like what? It IS important!

YOU are MORE than important to him.

Akaza is not blind, he won’t submit nor play dumb towards your responses

Absolutely hates making you uncomfortable and would hate to force you to tell him how you’re feeling but desperate times call for desperate measures.

This is just his way for caring about you.

At first, he will try each and every day to be there for you and try and talk with you.

Sits on the side of your bed as your laying down, curled up, unmoving and will just kiss your forehead and give you time to open up.

Akaza will bug you consistently, fishing a response from you, anything, just anything!!

“Sweetheart, could you tell me what’s going on with you?”

Nothing. Just that same old response he hears every damn time.

“I’m fine”, “Nothing is wrong!”, “It’s okay, i’m doing well, just tired.”

Hatessssss when you lie to him:(

Akaza feels beyond powerless.

Your feelings are very important to him!

Sure, he hates weak people, hates any other human being he encounters but you’re different!

Akaza knows deep down you’re suffering from depression but desires for you to confess it yourself in your own time.

But at the end of the day he had to force it out of you.

Felt insanely guilt but what else could he have done?

Everything else he’s ever done for you got him nowhere due to your own stubborn dds

Akaza is not mad though.

He could never be angry with you for having depression i mean, you can’t help it.

We all know how overwhelmingly overprotective he is so the very moment he finds out a friend of family member caused you to feel this way and shut the world out he is going to throw hands.

Like, how dare they?!

Akaza is another caretaker! Skips important missions for your sake despite him knowing the punishments that come along with it.

Akaza won’t mind taking care of you but he also needs you to learn how to take care of yourself if you want to truly heal so he’ll be there for you every single step of the way in order for you to accomplish that!

Another thing that’ll happen is that Akaza will become more needy and clingy than usual. He must protest his precious girlfriend at all costs.

Kisses you and reminds you how much he loves you.

Fucking HATES it when he’s forced to leave you (when he’s summoned to the infinity castle)

But the very second he’s home he’s relieved.

On those days you’re feeling super depressed to the point where you can’t get up Akaza will cool you breakfast and serve it to you in bed. Will even feed you if he has to then eventually he’ll help you get up and offer you all the motivation and energy you need to make it throughout the day.

Bro is a gentleman.

Literally is always going to be there for you, love you unconditionally.

And most importantly…

Beat the living HELL out of whoever worsened your depression‼️‼️

I hope you enjoyed these headcanons! To all those out there suffering currently i can promise you that it’s going to be okay. You got this! <3

[penny-anna]

hi everyone guess what time it is THATS RIGHT its fic rec time

Slowly but Also Like All at Once by putaposyinyourhair

"Any sign of Knuckles?” He huffs out a soft breath of air, mentally cycling through the answers that are starting to feel almost programmed by this point. Kris, he ain’t coming back. Kris, he’s gone, man. Kris, stop asking me shit I don’t have the answers to, dude. Instead he goes with something a little more sensitive. “Negative.”

AU based on the ending of Rise of the Beasts. tragically not updated for over a year but MUCH to chew on here & i must share this excerpt:

“Look, man, I can explain—” “Noah,” Reek begins again, tentatively— like he’s about to ask something that even he can’t quite believe he’s going to ask. “Did you fuck that car?” Noah damn nearly chokes on his own tongue.

Personal Space by Neon_Honeycomb

“Are you okay?” Cool, smooth metal presses against his face before he can even register Mirage moving, shattering the memory that’s slowly engulfing him until it dissipates entirely. He’s left staring again at the metal beams above, the backdrop of yellow clouds far behind them, and the movement of a single tree branch swaying just within sight. “Only you would have a roof fall on you and then ask if I’m the one that’s okay.” Noah and Mirage get trapped under a pile of rubble together. While waiting for someone to come free them, they get... comfortable.

its ur classic premise <3

lose my mind by Donts

“Do I turn you on, Noah?” Mirage murmurs lowly. Noah sucks in a breath, dropping his hands and opening his eyes, gazing at Mirage’s optics with surprise. Mirage is looking at him with a smug grin, and oh fuck. or 5 times Noah masturbates because of Mirage, and 1 time Mirage helps him out.

ohhh thats the good filth!!

A flickering spark, his unwavering spirit by caelleth

“We were… friends, weren’t we?” The words left his vocals before he could quell them, and Noah considered them before he could regain his wits enough to take them back. “...Yeah. We were friends.” His head turned, and he tore his gaze away from the mech, leaving Mirage to stare at his dust-fettered curls, struggling to find any words in this planet’s limited language that could ever hope to describe the unbearable mix of guilt and yearning and grief and above all that, unyielding hope that bubbled through his chassis. But it seemed no amount of words ever could, Cybertronian or otherwise. “I can see why,” was all he said to the human. (Or, the trials and tribulations of repairing a Cybertronian.)

another AU based on the ending of the movie. ohh this was a great time. the first Mirage POV chapter is a particular highlight.

Manhandled by SadVibez

Mirage picks Noah up to grab something on a shelf. Things quickly turn not so PG-13.

manhandling :)

An Old Mech Worries For A Human by SadVibez

During the fight in Peru, Noah was hurt after being dropped by Scourge. He hasn't told anyone and with Mirage to not fret over him, no one has noticed. Well, almost no one. Optimus notices Noah in pain and the two have a small talk.

a rare non-shippy fic. ohh i love a 'this character should have been injured let's talk about that' fic

Tactile Intimacy by BunnyFair

When Mirage makes an expected engine noise, Noah has to investigate and give his friend a thorough check up. Popping his hood, he soon discovers the world of tactile interfacing.

tactile interfacing for u!!!

human junk by Secretkept (KaiNinjagoo)

After a few nights of Noah sleeping in the garage, Mirage notices something he hasn’t seen before (PENIS)

firstly can i just say, summary of all time, i've been thinking about (PENIS) for weeks. secondly: great series feat. sexless robot Mirage & Noah navigating their relationship. love the realism of this one. great time.

Exposure Therapy by Neon_Honeycomb

“You’re not made of metal. I— I don’t know the limits of what you’re made of. I don’t know how much is safe contact, and when it turns into— when you— when I—” This is the part where Noah is supposed to get it. The part where he’s supposed to understand the depth of what Mirage has just told him, where he realizes the danger he’s in if Mirage so much as simply moves wrong at the wrong moment, the moment where he lets go and never comes near him again. He waits; waits for it all to click into place in that biological processor of his, waits for the moment he pulls his hands back to himself, waits for his face to morph into entirely justified fear. “I could break you, Noah, I could…” He’s not prepared for Noah’s expression to go soft. There's only one way for someone to learn how much strength to use when handling something, and that's through experience.

screaming yelling throwing up wailing sobbing:

Noah doesn’t break. He doesn’t immediately start leaking red, his face doesn’t even pinch like Mirage has seen him do when he gets hurt. And somehow that makes it so much worse when Noah looks up at him, looking just as good as he had a moment ago, completely fine, only for him to say, “Right there. That’s how hard it takes to start hurting.” like it’s no big deal at all.

[yomogi-mogi-mochi]

Orchid Child, Dandelion Child

Pairings: Riddle & Sibling MC (NOT a romantic pairing)

Summary: This is going to take after Riddle’s overblot, and short and sweet. The term orchid child/dandelion child refer to children who may have very specific/different needs for their development, and those who need less accommodations or specific requirements for their development, respectively. They may grow up in the same environment but everyone’s needs are different, one child may have different coping mechanisms than the other. MC is heavily implied to have dyslexia, ADHD/Autism, and OCD (the latter two of which are often comorbid)

Notes: My brain is so dead. Enjoy this very short piece, sorry it's been a while.

TW: Graphic descriptions of embalming (weird tag I know but listen listen listen hear me out‒), also mentions of blood and human biology; past domestic/child abuse, and mental illness

GN Terms for MC

AO3 Link Here

Masterlist

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Adjacent to your mother’s footsteps, you had always had a curiosity for the medical. Though it was never living bodies that enamored you. In death, biology levels all. Cremation, natural burial, or alkaline hydrolysis‒ no amount of money, or intelligence, magic, or talent would help anyone escape the inevitable. Whether able bodied, rich, poor, moral or not‒ all people returned to dust, bones, and decay. 

  Rituals like the embalming process always brought you a strange comfort‒ the draining and ejecting, bathing, refrigeration‒ the body incised, emptied of its filth, and sewn back up. Imagining the dissection of a body into each fleshy component relaxed your own‒ as if your cold body lay on a sleek, steel mortuary table, your jaws and eyes sewn shut and the biology of your body ready to be drained. Even if your insides were scraped out for people to see‒ you would not feel shame. No blood to rush to your cheeks, or your aching heart. Your mother had always dismissed this career choice, urging you to find something ‘more within your reach ’.

  Your body would be clean from its excrement, scrubbed of all the insides that capsized you from this world, and its people.

  Compartmentalization‒ your psychiatrist mentioned. It took you a few tries to correctly register the word in your head when you had gotten the report, you’re not sure if it’s correct. If you did not imagine this scene at least three times a day, you felt like your blood was going to burst forth from your membrane, hot and spastic, like a monstrous clot of nerves. Again. Again. Again. You cleansed this shaking contamination within you with whatever you could do. That’s wrong. You dig your nails into your palm, resisting the urge to lay the papers that were shuffled around by the headmaster on the floor, sorting and checking one by one if they were there. Again, again, again. You imagine an arterial tube weaving through the wounds of your hands, draining the warmth that itched against your skin, the function of your wandering eyes, and the defect of your mind.

  “I’ve signed off on everything. Is there anything else I can do for you, Mx.Rosehearts?” 

  “No, nothing else. Thank you, Headmaster Crowley.” 

  You gather the stack of papers in your file, you check through‒ quickly‒ your medical records, doctor’s notes, psych evaluations, annotated versions of section 504, interpreter documents‒ a variety of other loose papers that wedge inside the old file as best you can, just in case . Even for such a minute accommodation, lacking a legally recognized diagnosis prepared you for the worst. Rejection‒ a tumble and drag into a system not designed for you in mind. These accommodations were an afterthought after that system was built, something to make you “whole”. There were many experiences in your interactions with school boards that warranted preparations like this, which you scrubbed into your mind and routine. No one will help you‒ not the board, the teachers, your peers, your family‒ you must be prepared to advocate for yourself. There was never room for failure, and you made sure that these accommodations made up for your innate nature to do so in this system.

  You bow a perfect ninety degrees before you head out of the office, quietly shutting the door behind you with a soundless exhale. Adjusting the stack of papers in your file, you scurry off to the library to find a quiet corner to reorient yourself. You weave through the various open tables, the large seating area, and the comfortable nooks with beanbags‒ and instead, opt for your usual spot in the corner of the library, where you softly place the file on the desk. 

  That’s wrong. Again. Again. Again. Again. 

  You open and close the file four times, feeling a wriggling, hot feeling in your blood that completely halts your mind from moving forward with your process, despite the short amount of time you have until your next class. 

  No. Again. 

  With the sixth time, it feels right. You sigh in relief, thanking whatever higher being out there that the process didn’t take as long as before. Medical records, doctor’s notes, psych evaluations, annotated sections, interpreter documents. All in order, all there, only for you to see. A weight lifts off your chest as you shift your eyes around the library, and close the file. 

  You browse through the section of the library, running your finger along the spines of the books to spot a new read.  A mauve leather-bound book catches your eye, the gold letter glinting in the dusty light of the library. Smoke Gets in Your Eyes: Other Lessons From the Crematorium you skim the summary on the back. Satisfied, you work your way to the counter, where the librarian checks out the book with a smile. She pulls out the book slip at the front of the book and a pen. 

  Riddle Rosehearts. 

  You almost make a sound at the name, but instead, you quietly chew in your inner lip to provide some sort of grounding for the whirling feeling in your stomach. You feel sick when you write your name in the same cursive as the name above yours‒ just like your mother taught you. 

  “ Again .” Your mother would say. 

  You write. She slaps your hand with a ruler, reaching over your shoulder to erase the word. 

  “ Again .” 

  You write. She slaps, she erases. 

  “ Again .” 

  You write. She slaps, the paper begins to fray from the friction of your eraser, and the tears that run hot down your cheeks. Inertia. Inertia. Inertia. You repeat the word in your mind, trying to mold it with your hands. But the black text above the frayed paper seems to weave together, jumble, congeal. You push the hot coal in the back of your throat, forcing your bruised hand to write. 

  That’s not right. Again. Again. Again. 

  Why can't you just do it the way you're told?  

  Medical records, medical recommendations, psych evaluations, doctor’s notes, annotated sections, interpreter documents. So much extra weight that folder holds that you have to carry everywhere with you‒ just in case . 

  Again. Again. Again. 

  You open and close the locker shut, twisting the locker combination each time. At this rate, you know you’ll be late to class, way past your accommodations agreements. You hope Professor Trein won’t make such a big scene. 

  When you arrive at class, you are miraculously left alone by the professor and your peers. Breathing a sigh of relief, you take your usual seat, finding a practice exam on your desk. 

  You didn’t properly shut your locker. People are probably stealing your stuff now, breaking your things, tearing your extra records into pieces. You didn’t properly shut your locker. The documents are ruined, and you have to start all over again. You didn’t shut your locker. You grip your pencil, bouncing your leg, digging your nails into your palm. Yes, yes you did lock it. Three times in fact. Still, a voice persists‒ you didn’t do it right. Again. Again. Again. You scratch, and pick at the broken skin of your palm. 

  Eventually, as you continue staring at the packet‒ you feel a stab at the back of your shoulder. A student jabs forth the packet of papers that were collected from the back with an exasperated face. The papers are basically thrown your way as you add your half blank packet to the pile, swallowing down your anxiety. Trein continues class as usual, going over the review sheet. 

  “Mx. (Name). A word?” 

  You freeze in your seat, in the middle of gathering your things for next class. Students’ gaze furl towards you, and you pick at the wound of your palm to calm the rising panic in your abdomen. Begrudgingly, you pack up your things, and head towards Trein’s desk. 

  “I will excuse your tardiness for today since you have accommodations, but that does not explain the almost completely unfinished practice exam that we took in class. Do you care to explain?”

  You refuse eye contact. “I…” There was no way to explain it with any sane sensibility, or without alerting your mother. “I apologize sir. I was distracted. It won’t happen again.”

  He sighs, you know he doesn’t believe you. It’s your condition‒ you look to the stack of accommodation letters and agreements tucked under his elbow, and you feel that weight in your chest. 

  “Please, sir. I’ll do anything to make up for it I‒”

  A hand is raised at your response, with a pinch at the bridge of his nose. “It’s…It’s quite alright. I know you are trying your best, considering your… situation . Please finish the packet before you come to class next time.” Trein hands the packet back to you, which you accept with a silent nod. 

  The situation, the condition, the baggage. There have been many terms used to describe your disablement from the world‒ each more alienating than the other. You draw blood on your palm once more, looking inside the crescent-shaped holes in your flesh. You feel nothing but the trembling deep in your chest. 

  You sit in the shared space of the Heartslabyul dorm, hoping that body doubling will allow you to finish your workload. Though it takes you some time, you manage to finish your work before the sun sets, and you scurry back into your dorm room to begin your book. As you try to relax, the thought of a missing assignment, a failed exam, a systematic blunter pricks at your skin, spreading and choking your flesh. You read the same sentence over and over, but understand nothing. 

  Why can't you just do it the way you're told?  

  You hear a knock at your door, seizing you from your thoughts. You sigh, shove whatever scrap paper that had been lying around into your book, and reluctantly open the door. 

  Riddle Rosehearts. 

  You remember him from his perfect handwriting, his words that mirrored your own mothers. You could never get the “R” quite right, something both your brother and mother scolded you for. 

  “Rule of threes, you understand what will happen when you fail the third time.” Again. Again. Again. 

  Riddle had always resembled his mother much more than you had‒ in voice, in appearance, in tone. “ Rule of threes, (Name). You know what mother will do to you when you fail the third time .” He extended your mother's violence with all his likeness to her, in his face that would look down upon you with aberration, and his tightened fists that dragged your head to look closer at the paper, and realize your error. Every way he came into contact with you had been wrapped, tightly as flesh, your mother's violence. 

  You imagine that cold table again, but Riddle’s silvery eyes tethered you to the moment. It was as if you could feel every shifting tendon of your body, every pull of sinew and blood that pumped blood rapidly to your heart, and the back of your ears. But the guilty look on his face reminded you of one of the rare times he had broken mother’s rules. You realized he was as much of a child too, that day. Stretched thin and tall to fill your mothers expectations. 

  His stare is unbearable, you push through the tension in your throat. 

  “Can I help you, Dorm Leader Rosehearts?” 

  You think you see his worried expression, but your eyes dart from his gaze when he looks towards you again. 

  “You left this on the table in the common room.” He extends you the file that you thought had been safely tucked with your belongings. Your vision begins to distort‒ graying and distancing as you attempt to keep yourself calm from experiencing your literal nightmare . “I thought you wouldn’t want anyone to see it.” 

  “I…do not, no. I would not wish to shame you, or this dorm.” 

  Riddle takes a sharp inhale. You unconsciously tightening your body‒ imagining the postmortem stages. Pallor mortis, your blood pools to the souls of your feet. Algor Mortis, your skin feels on fire, and cools dead, limp. Rigor mortis, you stiffen and contract. The nutrients of your body drained, breaking down to gray sludge. You prepare for the breakdown of your body, your psyche, and your soul‒ the wounds on your body are only evidence to your movement through temporality in this system. Livor Mortis, your blood bruises your skin. 

  “I did not…mean that. I only meant‒ I felt…” He sighs, looking towards the floor. “I’m bad at this. But I didn’t mean that this is something shameful. I only wished to protect your privacy.” 

  You avert your eyes, unsure of what to do with him wanting to protect you in some sort of way. Perhaps his overblot changed him, but all you see if your mother’s shadow, when you look towards him. 

  “It’s not important, I apologize for the trouble, Dorm Leader Rosehearts.” 

  Maintaining his grasp on the file, he attempts to keep this connection going. “There’s so much I need to apologize for.” 

  You only manage a strangled sound, afraid to pull the file towards you. Afraid of movement, of air, of space, of time, of him. Everything seems to strangle you, you know that it was precisely designed that way.

  He cups a hand over your own. You try to repress the tremble in your body from the searing feeling of his palm, too afraid to look, speak, or move. You remain still, like a corpse, hastily trying to turn off your nerves and the bursting blood in your body, slaughtering it, and draining all feeling from your body. It’s been so long‒ your body rushes to catch up. You’re always catching up. Always. 

  “I don’t want to upset you. I just came to apologize, but I understand if you don’t want to see me.”

  Your mouth is sewn with silence, your jaw caught in a tremor in your mouth. Quickly‒ your mind makes the decision to speak‒ mother never liked when you didn’t answer to her questions. 

  The words scrape through your throat. “I…” A gulp to lubricate the convulsing motions of your esophagus. “Nothing is wrong. I apologize, dorm leader Rosehearts. It will never happen again‒ I apologize‒ I will make up for it. Please.” 

  His gaze softens. “I’m not asking because I’m asking you to apologize, or make up for anything. I’ve learned some things…I wanted to make up, but, I want to make sure you’re okay first.” 

  “Are you okay?”

  You spare a glance at his face, almost caught in the worried expression adorned on his features. “I don’t understand what the purpose that question serves. I can’t understand…” Still, you worry what will happen if it seems like you blame him for your lack‒ so you shift the weight on yourself once more. “I am incapable…of understanding. I apologize.” 

  “Hey.” He mellows his voice as much as possible, releasing you from his grasp. “It’s okay.”

  “You asked me a question. I was incapable of giving an answer that satisfies you. That is a violation of the rules, is it not?” You retract your hands to your chest, pressing your nails into the wounds on your palm. 

  Riddle folds his hands, almost nervously fidgeting with them. You almost react visibly with awe at the sight. “Our mother may have been wrong about a lot of things. I only recognized that after I attended here, and made many friends who helped me understand that. I am extremely regretful of the things I’ve done to you, and the things I’ve said. There’s no excuse for the things I’ve done, but I’m sorry. I hope you can forgive me someday‒ I want to reconnect, if you’ll allow me.” 

  You push the file against your chest. “...I don’t think it will be easy. For me, or for you. Especially for me.” 

  “Most things that are worth something aren’t. I realized something while I was overblotting.” His cheeks gradually bloom pink, a habit he’s had since he was a child. You remember the color most when he cried, but he looks sheepish. Igniting the same warmth in your cheeks, you look at his feet. Heels, you never noticed. He must be shorter than you. “I missed you. I really did. And I missed what we could have had. I’m sorry I couldn’t have been a better brother to you.”  

  “I think…I missed you too.” You admit. “I think neither of us can ask for help, we’ve been raised that way. We have drastically different ways of coping with that isolation.” 

  “I think so too. I have a lot of work to do.”  

  “ We do.”

  Rubbing your arm up and down, you soothe yourself‒ thinking of bodies and corpses, your skin buzzing from the thought of decomposition‒ what grows from them. The fruits of death lay thick and sweet on your tongue, as you stumble through a small smile. Riddle reciprocates.

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End Notes:

Obviously this is only a small glimpse into what healing from abuse and trauma is like. But it’s a start. The first steps count.

I’m also in no way shape or form attempting to justify Riddle’s behavior. He’s a complete and total asshole for sure, but he was a kid‒ I definitely see him as capable of change.

The terms Orchid/Dandelion child are relatively new, and I find the pop-psychology approach to it very distasteful (as pop psych usually is. do your fucking research people. PEER REVIEWED ARTICLES!) But I wanted to use the terms to kind of critique the notion of this divide between "resilient" and "nonresilient". It's just a matter of needs, which are different for everyone. Making this hierarchical distinction is arbitrary and often times ableist, as it normalizes a singular, hegemonic way of reacting/experience/compartmentalization/coping. Anyways read more disability studies if you want to know more.

Because I’m not officially diagnosed (my disabilities are not officially recognized by law because for me the disadvantages gross outweigh the benefits, like literally having your human rights stripped away) I don’t know the specific details of acquiring accommodations in a school setting apart from my position as a teacher, but please let me know if there are any errors in the information so I can fix them expeditiously

I also wanted to write about the systematic issues disabled people (particularly those with “invisible” disabilities or those who are “undiagnosed”), I feel like I’ve been experiencing a lot of issues and push back from a system which is not built for disabled people in mind (and often is used against the community in an attempt to eradicate the category). Furthermore, I wanted to explore the aspects in which traditional psychiatry/curative methods are not built for neurodivergent individuals specifically. We often get diagnosed (especially those who have been socialized or perceived as female) with other disorders because of the perpetual stigma against ADHD, and autism in particular. Mainly why I didn’t go the psychology/psychiatry route, despite (one of) my undergrad major(s). It would have been immoral for me to be one, if held up to the current regulations set by the American Psychology Association, or the regulations in my home country. Anyways, lots of problems I wanted to address‒ not sure if I was able to explore them more at length, but I’d like to do more of this in the future.

The book Smoke in your Eyes is a reference to Caitlin Doughty’s book. I highly highly highly recommend her youtube channel and any of her books tbh. She writes/talks a lot about death culture and our perceptions of death throughout history, and creating a more death-positive culture.

I wanted to avoid some of the common stereotypes and misconceptions of OCD, which is predominantly characterized by excessive handwashing, needing things very neat and in place. I wanted to explore the more internal obsessions, rather than focus solely on the external compulsions‒ as I feel like the external behaviors that are often portrayed in media don’t explore the inner workings that make the disorder so hard to live with (and treat).

[alairroux]

Two chapters one weekend, wow! I was feeling surprisingly creative today and finally finished my paper for school so I don't have to worry about it anymore ^^

Chapter XIII

"Vitals"

In no world or reality Alice expected to be taken to a huge skeleton that served as some sort of base for everyone who got sent into the Void. Even more she didn’t expect to be thrown onto a dusty floor, for a brief moment losing her breath, to her even bigger surprise along with her shirt, due to the dust, just to regain it right in the moment when that freak of a woman had her fingers already in between of her ribs. That was even weirder than feeling her fingers inside her own skull. That was to be expected but like that?! What sort of sick practice is that? 

“Hm”

Cassandra lowly hummed to herself, crouching and hovering over Alice, tilting her head from one side to another, like this was completely normal to her. Just a regular Tuesday apparently. Pushing her fingertips a bit deeper brushing against the beautiful ivory arches, feeling a shiver running over Alice. 

“The fuck are you doing?”

Alice finally managed to get out of herself, when the fear of as much as breathing passed. It was so weird. Like she was moving her bones and vital organs but at the same time her hand was just passing through them. 

“No need to be vulgar, sweet thing.” Cassandra chimed, not even glancing towards Alice’s face. “Just doing a little inspection. Don’t trash around and you should be fine… For the most part at least.” 

That wasn’t helping at all honestly. But Alice just decided it was like visiting a doctor, let them do their thing and just hope for a quick end. No, that sounded wrong as well, besides, the feeling was incomparable. Sure, Alice had a surgery before, but it was for her knee, and she was knocked out for the time of it. No one has ever dug around her chest cavity, especially with her wide awake. She had a need to flinch away, when she felt Cassandra just push through her lung, but she was also taking seriously any warnings that she could hear from the powerful mutant. 

“Hm… You’re not a human, yet your anatomy suggests otherwise.” 

“You can stop digging around, I’m not hiding anything there. You know it’s already pretty crowded.” 

Alice hissed, the cold spreading through her chest from the inside out. Gosh, this was so weird and uncomfortable, she just wished to squirm away and probably never go back to being in that place. She probably never before regretted going out of the apartment as much as now. After all, this is what led to her position here in the first place. 

"I can feel your heartbeat right under my fingertips, just a bit deeper…” Cassandra hummed suddenly. Her hand moved deeper. “ And I can hold your life in the palm of my hand..."

At that Alice sharply inhaled, feeling those slim fingers wrap around her beating heart. At that moment she wasn’t even sure anymore if it was beating or rapidly speeding out of control. Just a little squeeze too tight and she can be gone. It was terrifying. 

Only now Cassandra looked towards Alice, a slight smirk dancing on her lips. Looking at the terrified girl with visible authority, showing her her place. At that moment, Alice was scared to even breathe once more. Those blue eyes showing no mercy, more than anything there was a pure bloodlust burning in them, burning into her soul and that was more than terrifying once more. Then, Nova just retracted her fingers like it was nothing, shaking off her hand from invisible filth. 

“Calm down, you’re going to pass out if your heart keeps speeding like that. We don’t have a medic here.”

After that she just got up and walked somewhere to the side, like it was nothing, like she didn’t just hold a beating heart in her hands. Alice let her head hit the floor again, moving her hand over her chest like she wanted to make sure that it was still all intact, without any surprise holes and stuff like that. It was a relief to know that her chest remained seemingly untouched, but she could still feel the cold spread right there, where Cassandra's fingers touched just a second ago. 

Still heavy breathing she opened her eyes, watching the particles of dust dance in the golden light of sun seeping through some holes that served as windows. Like a glitter in the wind, they seemed to be more colorful than they really were, the usual gray gone, replaced by green, purple and yellow, tied together in some fancy composition. It was such a pleasant thing for tired eyes. But soon, the sun rays got stopped by Cassandra's shadow, she stood there again watching Alice like a hungry hawk. 

“Get up. I’ll give you something to wear.” 

Short commands. That’s what she could call things that Cassandra was saying. Alice got up, dusting herself off, starting to cough again. Ugh, this place needed a clean up desperately. She looked around, only now spotting various things that she only heard stories about, or saw them in other people's memories. Magneto’s helmet, Charles’s wheelchair, a coat, ring… Helmet with horns. More like a crown? Ugh, hard to tell. She tilted her head, trying to decipher why it looked familiar and yet so foreign. Then suddenly she felt like her body got pulled on an invisible leash. 

“I didn’t give you permission to stare. Don’t get on my bad side, or even your pretty little powers won’t help you.” 

Oh, that sharp edge was definitely a bad omen, but also… No, Alice. Behave. This is a life threatening situation, don’t be like Deadpool. Flirting won’t save you. So she just followed after the bald woman, not questioning anything anymore. It was looking like she was going to stay there for an eternity, or until Cassandra kills her, so she might as well learn about the things later. 

“Why did you pick someone's corpse as your living place anyway? There were building’s on the way here…” 

Unfortunately the curiosity that she was born with, was speaking much faster than any want for survival that was left in her. 

“Well, one day you’ll see why I needed something better than a regular concrete building. They’re crumbling away anyway.”  The woman hummed, putting some shirt and pants onto Alice’s hands. “Dress yourself.” 

Alice didn’t even try to look for a secluded spot, it was pointless. First of all, it’d take a good while and put her as Cassandra’s target, second, this woman already dug through her organs just a moment ago, so not like there was anything to hide anymore anyway. So she quickly changed out of her blood stained clothes and she had to admit it helped a bit. 

“So, why don’t you just read my mind about my powers and kill me? I mean, I’m not the best tool taking in the fact that killing me is fairly easy.” 

That question was on Alice’s mind from the very second when Cassandra gave up the fight in the middle of that weird desert. She never really thought it’ll be enough to make this mighty mutant stop. She was pretty sure it’ll only fuel her anger and cause her to attack harder, killing her on the spot. But it didn’t happen. For some reason, Cassandra gave her a chance to live further.  Right now, Cassandra motioned for Alice to sit on the stool in front of a wonky table and something that looked like a couch combined with a throne.  She walked over there and sat down, finding her balance on the shaky furniture. 

The table was probably the only clean thing here, not covered in dust at all, with a nice, ironed tablecloth on top, and a tea set. Sort of vintage one. White porcelain with small, hand painted flowers. Really pretty. The cups had wavy edges, like small flowers themselves. She hadn’t seen one like that for quite a long while. Finding one in a Void, would explain a lot. They weren’t needed anymore, so why would anyone want to keep them in an overcrowded world anyway, right? That was sad. Someone having a way to decide if you’re needed or not. Cruel even. 

“Because you might be useful to me.” 

Who would’ve expected, right? Again just a tool in all that. What a lovely feeling. Alice just nodded her head, not expecting Cassandra to elaborate on her thought, just accepting it as it is. 

“But, you might be more than a tool. It’s all up to you. Depending on how you’ll behave under my command.” Now Alice looked towards her, still with a sort of indifferent look in her eyes. “Because if you do decide to work with me, and not against me, you’ll be much more than a tool. You have a very strong power, shame to admit, but stronger than mine, you just have no idea how to use it. How to make yourself known with it, and I might have an idea how to put it to work. How to make you bloom, because until now, everyone only cut off your flower, before they even gave you a chance to show off.” 

Alice just observed, her eyes focused on the woman in front of her, feeling something weird almost linger inside her, like a millipede passing over her bones. Barely feelable but still there. 

“With right behavior I might give you all you need. A sense of belonging, a sense of your true self. I can turn you from barely hanging on sapling, to a tree. Tree that’ll bear fruits, and you know why it’s so important to bear sweetness caught up in a delicate shell of a simple peel. Right?” 

“To rot with a purpose…” 

Alice said even before she could think about it, her mind brought up that day when she was making some light snack, and her mind was bothering her about Cassandra all the time. Before the voices were too much, but they were already loud enough to bother her. It felt like summer again. Like fruits were rotting with a purpose of making the city slightly less of a filthy place. 

Cassandra just nodded her head, pushing a cup of tea in Alice’s direction, letting the words sink in. Would it mean betraying all she had until now? Yes. Would it mean not trying to go back to Wade and Logan? Yes. Will it help? Also probably yes. But Nova wouldn’t push for an answer. Sure, she could and normally she’d probably force Alice to follow her lead and order, but this time, she had a feeling that this girl will make the right decision on her own. There was no need to force her to make the decision right now. Besides, more time together will give Cassandra time to learn about humans, their behavior and anatomy. Sure, she knew a bit, after all she created her own body for herself from that knowledge, but it was always better to have a living specimen that you can use any moment you want. Right? 

Alice took the cup, taking a sip, feeling a warmth spread through her body, replacing the lingering cold. Her mind was rushing forward again. She wanted to learn about her powers, how to use them and make them something of hers, something she’ll be known for. She looked towards Cassandra that was now looking somewhere away, her brows furrowed like she was also deep in thought. Alice could tell that her heart was telling her to follow that offer, to trust in this villain and learn a thing or two. But the more she looked at Cassandra, the more she analyzed the glimpse of emotions and memories she caught in her mind, she wasn’t so sure about Nova being the villain.She wasn’t all that scary or psychotic as Wade and Logan wrote her as at all. It seemed like the perfect case of the villain being the villain as long as only the hero tells the story…

[ptn-imagines]

Can you do Suspect R x pre amnesia! chief? ik there's not a lot of content for her but they give such domestic married wives energy like

LOOK AT THIS. its fine if u dont accept, ther are PLENTY other ptn womens i thirst after so....

Oh, I will absolutely write for Suspect R despite her lack of content. In fact, I was hoping someone would ask!

Due to the lack of content on both her and Chief pre-amnesia, I ended up focusing more on the feelings they may have shared more than anything else, using the glimpses of Shepherd-12 we see in Shalom's interrogation as a guide. If this isn't to your satisfaction, feel free to send in another request! Praying that chapter 14 marks the return of the OG wife...

Suspect R x Pre-Amnesia!Chief

Once upon a time, her name was the one they loved the most. In a world where everyone wanted to use or betray them, she was the only one they trusted whole-heartedly. Shepherd-12 adored her.

As truths were unveiled and lies became unmasked and Shepherd-12 became more and more jaded to the world, she was the only one spared of hissing and biting. Only she could melt the icy protective layer upon the Shepherd’s heart, for only she could be trusted with it. Only she had pure intentions.

Secret trysts and rendezvous, the Shepherd was always so tense until the face of the nameless official melted away to reveal their lover, who perched on the edge of their desk like she belonged there. She did belong there. And the Shepherd abhorred the idea of belonging to anyone, anyone except for her. They would give themself over to her in a heartbeat, and they would drown in her, and it would be a sweet way to die.

They are a creature of Mania, but this Sinner is their salvation. She makes them feel human in a way that nobody and nothing else does, and they know that fate will never be kind to them so they relish these precious moments, and they love her eternally and devotedly and without regret nor restraint.

She loves them in kind for she knows this is what they need. They will never speak their thank yous aloud but she knows; how could she not? Even if the world should revile them, see them as monsters (and it did), the two of them would have each other. They need nothing else.

She holds them so close as though she attempts to meld their flesh as one. They greedily kiss her deeper, hotter, as though trying to exchange pieces of their souls with each entwined breath. She is both the untamed tempest that will inevitably drown them and the singular piece of driftwood that keeps them afloat in the storm.

Nothing else matters. Nobody else matters. Let the world burn to ash. The Shepherd would welcome it. The world is rotten to the core. So are they. Only she remains pure in an endless sea of filth. Only she is the truth among the lies.

“My dearest, your heart is becoming so black,” she whispered one night, and they didn’t know it then but this would be the final time they saw her like this. Her fingers caressed their face and they purred, leaning into the touch.

“They don’t deserve any more,” they breathed, nails digging into her back as though they were afraid they might slip through their fingers. “They can go to Hell for all I care. You’re the only thing that matters.”

She smiled at this and pulled them into another deep kiss. This one felt different, like a goodbye, but it was still filled with every ounce of passion and fire and desire and need and belonging they had come to expect. “You know it won’t end like this.”

“I know.” They detest the fact. She makes it bearable. She’s the only reason they haven’t torn the world asunder yet, because she is part of that world. “But you’ll be there, won’t you?”

She smiled. “Always. Don’t sleep for too long, or I might have to come and get you myself…”

…

Shepherd-13 always wakes from the dreams of these memories too soon, these ghosts banished with the rise of the sun over this corrupt city.

What was her name?

If they could choose anything to remember, it would be this.

[fourraccoonsinacoat]

Head Full of Ghosts: Chapter 3

Pairing: Astarion x Dark Urge

Summary: Takes place during the events of Baldur's Gate 3 and explores the romance between Astarion and the Dark Urge, as well as the friendships and relationships she has with her companions. Plus, everyone gives shit to Gale about his cooking. Tags: Slow Burn, Angst, Pining, Humor, Violence, Friends to Lovers, Developing Friendships, Developing Romance, Spoilers for the Dark Urge and BG3 in general, Dark Urge as Original Female Character Rating: Mature (Will eventually be Explicit, just not there yet.) Current Chapter Count: 3/? Read on AO3 Current Word Count: 13,050

Author Notes: I'm finishing up the fourth chapter and realized I never uploaded this chapter to Tumblr. So here we are! Getting this fic back on track and should have the next chapter up soon.

Chapter 3: Monsters

“You know she is a hag, yes?” Lae’zel’s severe and even voice cut through the sticky swamp air like a hot knife through a wedge of Durinbold cheese. 

The bog was a foul place, both in atmosphere and in smell. The air was thick with humidity and an ever-present smell of wet rot. Trees sagged and bent at jagged angles, their tired limbs wilting in the gloom, and a thin fog seemed to permeate every corner of the swamp. A hazy light filtered through the tree canopy, casting blotchy shadows upon the muddy ground. 

The path the four companions were following sank into marsh every several yards, forcing the group to pick their way through mire and muck. The slog was slow, and there was much complaining. Especially from one particular high elf who no one had told not to wear freshly polished leather boots. 

“I am like…seventy percent sure she is a hag, yeah,” Eli answered as she carefully stepped over a rotted tree limb, half submerged in murky filth. “I mean, she’s entirely too eccentric to just be a normal human, right?” 

She looked over to Astarion for support, who was currently trying to rub some manner of sludge off his doublet.

“She certainly isn’t playing Three-Dragon Ante with a full deck, if that’s what you’re getting at,” Astarion replied coolly before throwing up his hands and huffing in irritation, the stain unyielding.

Lae’zel hummed for a moment, considering. “Gale is eccentric and a normal human, is he not?” she questioned, amber eyes fixing on their resident wizard who, at the moment, was trying to free the hem of his robe from the clawing grasp of a gnarled tree root.   

Eli sighed. “Gale has a magic bomb capable of leveling entire cities in his chest. I would not call that normal.”

“You wound me, Eli.” Gale responded in a good-natured tone as he tugged his robe free and the group began moving once more.

“You consumed an enchanted bracer yesterday at breakfast,” Eli quipped, recalling the morning fondly. Karlach had been fascinated, quickly trying to get Gale to absorb several other items from their camp hoard and asking him if he “took on their powers,” as she put it. 

Eli chuckled at the memory before concluding, “You’re as deranged as the rest of us and it’s not up for debate.”

Their little group really had become a hodgepodge of oddities over the past few days. Karlach was settling in well, because where else would she fit other than with their traveling sideshow which included a vampire who could walk in the sun, a warlock who was recently transformed into a part-devil by his patron, an amnesiac with the compulsion to murder anything that looked at her crossly, and all the rest of them. 

Eli was starting to wonder if she had a penchant for picking up emotionally constipated strays. They were all kind of outcasts in some way or another. People just trying to get along in a world that had kicked them in the teeth and tossed them out with the garbage. She still had no idea why they’d all just sort of accepted her as their group’s figurehead, but she was beginning to feel a certain affinity for their gang of misfits. They were all fighting battles both within and without, and Eli couldn’t help but feel a certain kinship with people who were struggling with their own personal demons, just as she was.

At least as the day wore on her constant headache had faded to a dull throb, rather than the brain splitting white-hot pain she’d been experiencing. Her memories were still lost, and whenever she tried to call upon them she was only met with flashes of red violence. Images of mangled bodies, ruptured limbs, stringy viscera…it all melted and jumbled together in a confusing blur of chaos. Her dreams were no better, and her nighttime raids on the camp’s supply of books and wine were no secret among the party. Both Shadowheart and Karlach had even joined her on separate occasions. Hells, she’d have a proper book club up and running soon.

“So,” Lae’zel’s stern voice brought Eli out of her musings. “You trust this hag?”

“No,” Eli nearly spat the word out in a laugh. Auntie Ethel, as she called herself, was a lot of things, and trustworthy was not one of them. Astarion’s assessment of Ethel as ‘positively demented’ was accurate, and hags were not known as an honest sort.

“Good,” said Lae’zel, slightly drawing out the word in approval. “Lest I remind you that the only way to remove a ghaik tadpole is a Zaith'isk.”

Eli could feel the gith’s eyes on her and she did her best not to bristle under what she was sure was a judgmental stare. “I am aware,” Eli said, trying to sound unfazed and relatively certain she was failing miserably.

Lae’zel continued to press. “And a Zaith'isk can only be found at a gith creche.” She laid emphasis on the last two words, as if she were pointing something obvious out to a very dimwitted child.

Eli felt the back of her neck and ears start to go warm as irritation stirred in her chest and tightened her shoulders. The throbbing headache at the back of her skull began to growl. 

“You don’t say…” Eli replied, quietly pleading to whatever deity she couldn’t remember worshipping to please just let her have the rest of the day without feeling like her brain was on fire. 

“I just did say.” Lae’zel shot back, drawing a sidelong glare from Eli.

Eli liked Lae’zel. For the most part. When she wasn’t threatening tiefling refugees or complaining about the lack of spice in Gale’s cooking. Though, to her credit, Gale’s food was kind of bland. 

The gith fighter was blunt, stubborn, opinionated, fierce and one hell of a talent when it came to steel and blade. Eli appreciated Lae’zel’s steadfast loyalty and belief in her people’s culture, and even felt a slight pang of jealousy for it. It grounded the warrior and gave her a perspective from which to view the world, something Eli did not have. Culture, family, heritage…they were the building blocks of a person. Even if a person rejected or outgrew those foundational aspects of themselves, they still provided guiderails – or at the very least an anchor for one’s identity. 

Without those things, Eli felt adrift and directionless in a vast and swirling ocean, constantly beaten upon the rocks before being dragged back down to drown.  

“Explain to me why we are seeking this hag who you do not trust and who cannot remove the tadpole,” Lae’zel said, driving at a point Eli knew was coming and one she wasn’t sure she had a decent argument against. “Instead, should we not be pursuing a more productive course of action?”

Eli sighed, rubbing at her temples as her headache began to mount. “I’m curious,” she responded rather lamely. 

“I see,” Lae’zel said with a tone that indicated the gith was wholly unimpressed by Eli’s reasoning. “So, the situation at Emerald Grove continues to escalate, goblins continue to terrorize the Sword Coast, the druid healer remains missing, and the tadpoles in our brains remain unremoved.” Eli internally cringed at the chiding way in which Lae’zel spoke. “But, let us humor your curiosity. What is the worst that could happen?”

The question hung in the air uneasily. The worst that could happen was…really fucking bad. Everyone could die. Eli and her merry band of misfits could all turn into mind flayers. The Grove could fall under the absolute rule of a tyrant and racist. And the Sword Coast could get fully and aggressively fucked. Why was this all her problem, again?

“Lae’zel, was that sarcasm I just heard?” Astarion chimed in, and Eli felt a pull of appreciation towards him. He probably hadn’t meant to run interference between Eli and her interrogator, but she was thankful for it all the same. 

Truth be told, there was a small part of her that hoped Auntie Ethel did have a solution for their tadpole troubles. While they weren’t the most honorable of sorts, hags were rather enterprising and shrewd. And given the nature of their unconventional problem, an unconventional solution would more than likely be required. Besides, if things went south, they could just kill her. That seemed to be a particular specialty of their group. 

“Sarcasm often accompanies truth,” Lae’zel said with a pointed tone. 

Astarion chuckled lightly and Eli felt something not unlike faint affection flutter in her chest. She very quickly shoved it down into the black hole within herself where all the things she didn’t want to deal with went. Nope. That wasn’t good. That was the very last thing she needed right now. 

It had been happening more and more since the night she’d made a complete fool of herself, drunkenly asking him if they were still friends. Still friends. Gods, she was such a loser, and Astarion surely thought she was a total basket case after that encounter. But, every now and then, he’d give her a smirk or say something that caused a laugh to bubble up, and then that weird and endearing feeling would creep up and holy shit was this not the time or the place! Besides, that man had more red flags than a circus, and it wasn’t like Eli was a bastion of sanity, so together they’d be about as functional as wet hot garbage. 

“How profound,” Astarion continued, oblivious to Eli’s distressing mental spiral. “This little jaunt in the swamp does seem to be a rather unhygienic deviation from more pressing concerns.” 

The appreciation she’d felt for him earlier poofed away, and Eli glared. “I will turn this whole party around if you all don’t stop your complaining!”

Astarion’s eyes lit up with delight. “Oh, please do! I worry the putrid scent of squalor and anguish is never coming out of my clothes.” He ran his hands down his doublet, trying to smooth out some wrinkles, and sighed in an overdramatic fashion.

“I, for one, am looking forward to seeing Ethel again,” Gale chimed in as they continued to trod down the muddy path. All of them would be washing muck off their clothes for days. “Fey and the like often have access to magic that even a wizard of my caliber cannot wield. This deviation - as you put it, Astarion - could prove very advantageous if we play our cards right.”

Eli resisted the urge to glance over her shoulder at Astarion, who had surely just rolled his eyes so hard he could see up into his own skull. She could practically feel the disdain radiating off of him and pointedly kept her eyes ahead, scanning the dreary bogland for any sign that they may be nearing Auntie Ethel’s dwelling.

It took Astarion all but two seconds to quip back at the wizard. “Gale, your opinion is like the filth on my boots. Unwanted and irritating,” he said with all the cheer of a muddy wet cat as he paused to kick some grime off the bottom of one of said boots.

“It is a wonder any of you have survived this long,” Lae’zel said, glowering at Astarion as he continued to preen. 

“We are a rather astonishing group, aren’t we?” Eli asked with a small smirk, glancing back at the gith.

Lae’zel just rolled her eyes.

Eli was glad for the banter, as it provided some distraction from the pulsating headache growing behind her eyes. However, as they rounded a bend in the path where the trail began to climb upwards towards the interior of the bog, snaking away from the swampy shoreline, Eli was struck with a surging agony that flashed white hot throughout her head. She doubled over, the heel of her hand pressing into the ridge of her brow as a hiss escaped from behind her clenched teeth. Her stomach churned angrily, a hunger rising from deep within that neither food nor drink would satiate. Her head felt as if it were shattering into fragments, her conscious self being pulled apart at the seams as something else tried to push its way to the surface. Something feral, and frenzied and starved.

From somewhere behind her, Eli thought she heard Gale muttering a question. She then felt a hand on her shoulder and wanted nothing more in the world than to seize it and dig her nails into the supple flesh. She wanted to smell the crisp metallic tang of blood in the air as her fingers peeled back skin as if she were pulling the rind off a particularly ripe fruit, bloody pulp exposed and raw. The thought of her fingers sliding between muscle and skin, slick with blood, feeling fibrous sinew tear away and hearing the wet squelch and pop as she degloved flesh from limb…   

Fist clenched, her nails dug into the palm of her hand as she fought to keep control. A pleasurable shiver ran down her spine as her mind entertained depraved thoughts, and for a moment she thought she may vomit where she knelt. She was not herself. Her mind was splintering with a hundred craven desires…she wanted to walk across fields of ruptured bodies and feel the viscera turn to jam between her toes. Her muscles tensed and she flinched away from the hand, standing in a near delirious state and muttering some nonsense about “needing a minute” before stumbling off into the fen. 

Eli needed to put distance between herself and her companions. At least for the moment. At least until her head cleared. She slogged through the wetland, unfocused on where she was going, until she felt a dampness seeping through her boots. She stopped and blinked, trying to wrench her consciousness back from the brink. As her sight cleared and the world around her came back into focus, Eli found herself standing ankle-deep in water near a riverbank, looking out over the vast and gloomy expanse of the Chionthar River - the opposite bank obscured by fog. 

Sloshing her way back to shore, Eli stepped back onto somewhat solid ground just as she heard a rustling in the thicket. Her eyes shot up to see Astarion picking through the snarl of brush and weeds that bordered the muddy shoreline. His expression was one of exasperated frustration, brow furrowed and mouth pulled into a grimace, as he tugged a booted foot free of the clinging bramble. 

“Gods below, this entire place needs to be tossed into Avernus,” he grumbled as he plucked a bur off his doublet and flicked it to the ground. Astarion then glanced up at her, crimson eyes guarded, although Eli thought she caught the glimmer of something else in his gaze…a flash of something softer. But it came and went like a spark catching alight then burning out just as quickly. “Are you…alright?” 

His tone was hesitant and uncertain, as if he were unused to the concept of asking after someone else. Astarion had an edge about him that never seemed to dull, as if he were always acting under the assumption that those around him would lash out at any given moment without warning. Eli wasn’t sure why, but she felt as if she recognized that particular brand of uneasiness. It was a tension that came from an impartial distrust of anyone and anything. A response to a life lived in a constant state of conflict, always ready for fight or flight. Something gnawed at the far recesses of her mind, tugging at a memory she couldn’t quite grasp. She understood that feeling, though she did not know why…

“I think I am. Now, at least," Eli said, rubbing at her eyes as her headache growled but remained tempered. Her mind seemed to be clearing and realigning itself to the present, no longer at risk of breaking and letting loose whatever atrocity lay coiled up inside herself. “You didn’t have to follow me out here. I just needed a moment to collect my thoughts.”

Astarion eyed her and raised a brow, disbelief apparent on his face. “My dear, whatever just happened in that pretty head of yours is not nearly as frivolous as you’re trying to make it seem.” 

Eli winced internally. He was right, of course, and it wasn’t as if she had been subtle when she’d walked off aimlessly into the bog after being doubled over and obviously in pain. Hell, given how she must have looked in that moment, he’d probably followed her to make sure she didn’t trod blindly into a sinkpit or end up ensnared by some flesh-eating swamp ficus.

She sighed and ran a hand absentmindedly through her silvery hair. “I just don’t want to worry people,” Eli conceded. “We have enough to deal with, without adding my violent mood swings and absconded memory to the mix.” She spread her hands out, as if the gesture could represent the absolute shitstorm they dealt with on a daily basis.

Astarion considered her for a moment, expression thoughtful and impassive, before he shook his head with a small smile. “I believe you were the one who pointed out earlier that everyone in our weird little group is ‘deranged,’ as you put it.” He emphasized her choice of wording with a gesture of his hands, pantomiming plucking the word out of thin air.

The action brought a soft smile to her lips. She enjoyed Astarion’s embellishments and dramatics. The elf had a flare for the extravagant that she found both endearingly silly and strangely alluring…

Nope. No. Stop it. She shoved that twinge of attraction back down into the deep dark hole within and refocused herself. “Yeah, well, one of us needs to at least act somewhat sensible,” Eli quipped with a smirk. “Can’t have Zevlor and his lot figuring out how truly unhinged we all are. We may not get paid,” she said the last bit with more than a little fake indignation. 

Astarion played along, pretending to be scandalized and clutching his nonexistent pearls. “Now that would be a tragedy. I have every intention of hiring a witch at the first opportunity to hex Gale’s cookpot so it will only produce boiled squid,” he said cheerily. “I’m assuming that won’t be cheap.” 

Amused with himself, Astarion tipped his chin up, smirking at Eli with all the wiliness of a fox. For her part, Eli just rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop a grin from spreading on her face as she imagined Gale, flustered and put out, ranting about the juvenile use of magic. 

A thought occurred to her, then. Something unbidden and completely inane, but one she latched onto desperately. It was a joke that had bubbled up from the deep recesses of her broken memory, and though she had no idea where she heard it or in what context, she was delighted at the prospect of finding something among the rubble of her ruined mind. It set the tiniest flicker of hope alight within her that maybe, eventually, she may be able to recover more. 

Eyes bright, and with a reserved sort of hopefulness stirring in her chest, she gave Astarion a genuinely dorky grin and blurted out with all the self-restraint of a toddler; “What do you call a magician who cooks?”

Surprise overtook the elf’s face, and he tilted his head curiously with a small laugh, thrown by the sudden and highly abrupt tangent. Before he could speak, however, a snap sounded in the brush behind the pair. Both Eli and Astarion turned to find a man, tall and well built with slicked back hair the color of burnt coffee. His mouth, framed by a neatly kept goatee, was turned down in a grimace, jaw clenched, and in his hands the man held a very large crossbow - loaded and aimed in their direction. 

“I’d think twice before you get much closer to him, miss,” the stranger warned, eyes darting from Eli to Astarion as if he expected the elf to set upon him any second. “He’s dangerous.”

Eli frowned at the stranger, fingers curling reflexively into the beginning gesture for her Eldritch Blast incantation. “And yet you’re the one with a crossbow pointed at me,” she said warily, watching the man’s fingers for any twitch or movement on the trigger. 

Next to her, she could feel Astarion stiffen defensively, but he remained quiet. Had the stranger not had a crossbow bolt aimed in her direction, Eli would have been more curious who he was and his connection to Astarion. Due to his comments, she assumed he was aware of Astarion’s vampirism, though she couldn’t be certain. Her curiosity, however, would have to simmer in the face of their current predicament. 

“Call it a precaution,” the stranger said before tipping the crossbow in the direction of Astarion. “You know what he is? Vampire spawn.” He said the last bit as if it was supposed to be some revelation, venom laced within his words. 

Eli studied the tip of the crossbow bolt, noting how the sharpened edge glimmered faintly in the hazy light. Silver? She glanced back and caught the man’s eyes with her own, a growing dislike darkening her expression. 

“Old news, my friend,” she said with more than a hint of antagonistic sarcasm. “Known that since I met him.” 

This drew a somewhat startled noise from Astarion, whose gaze she could suddenly feel turn to her. “You did?” he asked with a genuine note of surprise in his voice. 

Astarion had not admitted to being a vampire spawn until the night Eli caught him creeping in on her as she slept, hungry and poised to bite. Up until that point, though, he’d done a rather poor job of concealing his nature. What with the bite scars on his neck and his pale, almost pearlescent, complexion. The fact he could walk in sunlight was an oddity, of course, but given that she’d just flown through Avernus on a mind flayer ship after having an illithid tadpole inserted into her brain, a vampire traipsing about in the sun wasn’t even the weirdest thing she’d seen that day.   

She chanced a quick sidelong glance at Astarion and quirked an eyebrow. “Well, yeah. It was kind of the worst kept secret in Faerûn. Shadowheart and I even had a bet about who you’d try to bite first.” Eli still owed her a bottle of sweetwine, come to think of it.

She shook the thought from her head and turned her attention back to the stranger who still had his crossbow trained on them. “Mind introducing yourself before you start a fight you’ll regret?” she asked, watching his body language for any sign that he may back down now he knew Eli was fully aware of her companion’s condition.

The stranger glared at her, and Eli sighed. Another day, another fight with some ignorant douchecanoe who was wasting the last moments of their life antagonizing her. That darkness inside of her, the thing that craved slaughter and whose language was only violence, shifted restlessly like a dog in a cage, pressing at the barricades with a cruel need. She fought to push it back, but gods she could imagine her hands tearing into his gut, ripping dying organs from the yawning wound, warm and wet. The iron scent of blood in the air. The agony twisting his face as he writhed. It would be beautiful brutality. 

Her headache was mounting once again, and through the throbbing pressure she heard the man say; “You can call me monster hunter.”

He braced his crossbow, targeting Astarion, and Eli was moving faster than coherent thought. She felt a force collide with her left shoulder, nearly knocking her off balance, and then the world melted away into a manic savagery that was both achingly familiar and terrifyingly transcendent. 

Flesh would rend. Bone would snap. And her hunger would be sated. For now. 

The headache faded, and Eli was suddenly aware of a thick and deep pain radiating from her shoulder. Her mind swam dully, like a bobber struggling to stay above water as forces tried to pull it down. She felt…tired. Dazed. 

Why was she on the ground? Was that her blood spattered across her bracers? Why was Astarion yelling?

“Godsdamnit! Why would you do that!” 

Something jostled her, and the pain in her shoulder flared. She groaned and tried to turn her head towards Astarion’s voice only to find she was propped up against him. He was kneeling next to her, a hand braced against her back to keep her seated upright while his other hand pressed into her shoulder. She grimaced, trying to ignore the searing agony rocketing down her left side, but found herself unable to focus. 

She looked up into Astarion’s face, head bobbing to the side, and squinted at him. A range of emotions flitted across his face as he looked down at her. Anger, frustration, exasperation…all common day-to-day expressions for the snarky and uppity elf. But there was something else, too. Something in the clench of his jaw, the tightness of his lips and the way his sharp, clear eyes stayed fixed on her. Concern…

“Do…what?” she asked, confused. 

Eli continued to watch his face, thinking dully about when she’d ever seen him worried and coming up with nothing. Well, she wasn’t in a great state of mind at the moment and kind of just wanted to go to sleep. She was probably just forgetting…

Her mind drifted…eyes closing wearily…

Astarion shook her gingerly and she let out a noise somewhere between a hiss and a growl. “That bolt you idiotically decided to jump in front of was laced with poison! Do. Not. Fall. Asleep.” He pressed at the wound on her shoulder and her eyes wrenched back open, pain flooding her senses and slamming adrenaline into her system.

“Fucking rude!” she yelped. 

Then, the pain was fading and a slow numbness was creeping down from her shoulder. It felt cold and soothing, and she was so tempted to just relax into it and fade away. Her head dropped and came to rest against his chest, eyelids fluttering closed again. 

“I think I just like to annoy you…” she said weakly, then gave a hiccupping sort of laugh. 

Astarion was trying to jostle her out of the daze again, only this time there was no pain and she felt too content to open her eyes as her head rested against him. 

“Eli! Eli! Shit!” He sounded so far away. So far…far…away…

“What do you call a magician who cooks?” Astarion asked, a hint of panic coiling around his words. 

From somewhere very distant, Eli remembered she hadn’t finished telling him her joke. A small laugh caught in her throat as she thought about it…but she really didn’t feel like talking right now. Gods, she wanted to sleep…

Astarion was shaking her again. “What do you call a magician who cooks! Eli!”

Fucking hell, he was loud. 

Eli groaned and tried to lift her head. Too heavy… 

…she needed to finish the joke…

“A…saucerer…” she said lamely, then laughed, head still slumped against his chest. She’d have to tell Gale…

There was some muttering, then a feeling of being lifted. The ground was gone. Her arms sagged. 

“You will not die,” she heard Astarion say from miles away. “You will not die because that was just awful, and it will not be the last thing you ever say."

Eli smiled to herself. She was hilarious…

Everything went dark.

[50cal-fullauto-astarion]

König HCs

Because why not lads. These are some of my personal ones regarding the lore I’ve put together for him. TW: untreated mental illness, childhood neglect, burn injuries, surgical trauma. Uh, some other shit, too, probably. Idfk reader beweader you’re in for a sceader.

Bro has BPD. It covers a lot of the beloved fanon interpretation of him being clingy and hot/cold and scared of being left. He’s got Fear Of Abandonment Syndrome, and he’s like 10% more likely to make a fucky wucky on himself and end up sleeping in the forever box.

Source: I have it and my baby girl only gets the best of the worst from me.

H a t e s d o c t o r s. And hospitals, and surgical procedures, and anything of the like. He’s probably already got more health issues than a blue blood racehorse just from his sheer size alone - prone to heart issues and musculoskeletal strain - but there’s no way on god’s green earth that he hasn’t been through a handful of major procedures because he’s diagnosed with human knife block and bullet sponge disorders respectively.

Sub-point A: born with a cleft palette and lip. Palette was corrected, has a turned second incisor as a result. Lip was botched. Pulled a pot of boiling sugar off a stove and burnt a big-ass portion of his face, neck, chest, and stomach. Multiple painful reconstructive and corrective surgeries to deal with keloid scarring.

Sub-point B: psychology might help OTHER people, but HE is built DIFFERENT. He’s not crazy, you see, and if you suggest otherwise you’ll suddenly develop a case of Backpfeifengesicht and he’ll provide the violence. DBT? That’s Dick and Ball Torture, babey.

Despite this, he lies through his teeth at psych evals. He knows the “right” answers, and he is not going to get his livelihood taken away from him, even if it’s not exactly what he wanted. If he’s answering for his own actions, he can swerve and intuit what thing will calm things down the most and get him the smallest punishment.

Developed most of his wheedling skills as a kid, parents were neglectful as shit. Mostly disregarded him during his upbringing. Youngest of three, an eldest sister and a brother. Not in contact with any of them.

He’s 34. I don’t know if I’ve accepted him being a Colonel into my heart as my lord and savior, I’m still figuring that one out until there’s more concrete canon material besides a loading screen.

Grew up in a hoarder house of apathy, alcoholism, and depression and it was DISGUSTING. Black mold, water damage, trash everywhere, travel lanes carved through the most useless fucking junk. His parents bred Doberman dogs to sell as guard/security dogs, and some lived in the house, adding to the filth and destruction. He can’t stand a dirty house, and as an adult has an insane cleaning routine. Often stress cleans. You could eat off his bathroom floors.

He Does Not Like Dogs. Period. He especially hates Dobermans. He doesn’t like dog breeders worth a fuck either, good or bad.

Did not have any sort of media or anything as a kid. Parents didn’t spend money on tech or pop culture stuff, they were kind of stuck 30 years behind everyone else. His parents were older when he was born, he was very unplanned and not particularly warmly welcomed. Kept himself entertained out in the boonies, did a lot of reading, learned to juggle, learned to juggle knives. Had a big brokedown half-draft horse to take the kennel dogs on longer walks in the country, horsebacked a lot.

Soon as he was in the army, away from his family home, and living on his own, he got his first cell phone and computer and pretty much started living on the internet. He’s self taught in a couple of programming languages, very tech literate, halfway kind of lives on Reddit (narrowly swerved getting redpilled, thank fuck) on his personal time, and built his own PC set up. Built one for Horangi, too, and gives Stiletto advice on her own build when she asks for it.

H E H A T E S K L A U S

Bc I said so, everyone I love hates Klaus. All my homies fuckin hate Klaus.

König was raised secular Jewish, really doesn’t know all that much about it and didn’t get a bris or bar mitzvah, it’s just like Yeah That’s What I Put On Papers to him. Klaus is always getting in his shit about Austria and WW2. König’s grandparents made it out of the camps and went on to become: a microbiologist, a professor at the Austrian University of Veterinary Medicine, a multi term mayor of a small village/candy maker, and a beloved homemaker. The brilliance of the family seemed to leech out with each passing generation, and König sees himself as the dead end of it all.

König has rocked Klaus’s shit about the shitty jokes before and will do it again.

Favorite rugby club is South Africa, and he has an intense crush on Faf de Klerk even though he’s been traded to Japan. He’s kind of hot for all scrum halves tho lbr here.

Lunch break is over and this is ridiculous, will probably do more later.