#and I know that I know nothing and its frustrating

[saltynsassy31]

Reblogging it cuz I want to save it with the art thag inspired me to write this lol

Anyway, here's a fanfic based on this au, I simply couldn't help myself XD

Obviously, the au belongs to @keferon

Go check them out!

~☆~

Swerve had heard of the mythical “human fish” at the aquarium. It wasn't exactly hard when everyone was talking about it - aside from the rising sea levels. He was always intrigued by it, but never really got the opportunity to see it for himself as he worked in a different department.

Until now, that is. He was called in to fix one of the generators near where the “human fish” had been placed, which was an easy enough job from what they described the problem to be. It would give him enough time to take a quick look around and get a glimpse of the creature all the news articles were talking about.

Swerve wasn't sure what he was expecting when he arrived. He had seen the pictures online, but still, nothing could have prepared him for the real thing. Walking down the hallway with his coworker, they passed by the tank of the mermaid (it was a mermaid, right? It sounded so surreal to even think about it) and couldn't help but take a small moment to glance at it.

It was half way out of the water, leaning over one of the “land” parts of its tank with its arms crossed, looking bored (could they even get bored? Probably, animals get bored, too, right?). 

The creature had a beautiful blue coloring to its scales and flesh, looking almost iridescent in certain areas. The fins on its head shaped perfectly like hair, the ones on the side of his face almost like wings. There was one strand protruding out like a graceful thorn. Aside from the piercing blue gaze of its eyes that turned to look at him tiredly, it was one of its most prominent features.

Least to say, Swerve was captivated.

He didn't realise he had been staring for far longer than he initially intended until his coworker called for him. “Dude, we don't have time for that. You can watch all the fish after we're done fixing the generator. Come on.”

Swerve quickly snapped out of it, turning around to follow his coworker in quick haste. “Right, sorry.” He paused. “It's just so…I dunno. Human-like.”

There was a small chuckle from the other. “I know. Weird, huh?”

Despite having been already scolded for getting distracted, he couldn't help but give one last glance at the creature - much to his coworker's annoyance. “Swerve, really? Come on man, we don't have all day.”

The creature stared back, unchanging in its hollow expression, simply looking as if it had nothing better to look at. Despite its cold indifference, Swerve smiled and offered a small wave of goodbye to it.

Seeing this, his coworker gave up all attempts to try and pull him away, figuring the other would simply follow once he was done playing around. Though, that didn't stop the frustrated grumbling that followed.

“Guh, are you a preschooler? I'm done waiting. I'll see you at the end of the hall.”

Swerve gave an absent-minded hum and nod, still observing the creature intently. He was considering following his coworker again, but those plans were briefly thrown out the window when he realised that the creature had taken notice of his action. For a brief moment, Swerve could swear he saw it contemplate something before it offered a half, tired smile and returned his wave.

It understood Swerve's action! It saw him wave, understood it, and returned the gesture! To say he was amazed was an understatement. The gasp that left him could only be described as star struck, a wide smile that took over all of his face, blinding the poor sea creature.

Swerve practically ran back to his coworker to report the news. “Dude! Dude! You won't believe what just happened! The mermaid, fish thingy, it–”

In his excitement, he missed the way the creature stared in stunned silence as he ran off. It rubbed at its eyes momentarily to wipe off the flash that was the human's smile before an amused huff left its gills. It smiled, softer this time. Laying its head against its crossed arms, it didn't look away from the spot the human had been in, long after he had already left.

That wouldn't be the last time Swerve had an encounter with the sea creature. He had been moved to keep maintenance of the general area of that department, which ment plenty more encounters with the mermaid. They were still few and far between, but he'd still wave, even if he didn't always get to stay long enough to see if it returned the gesture.

It sort of became their thing.

With time, he started to notice little things. How it would respond to praises with a certain air of pride, displaying behaviours of vanity and egoism at times. It also had quite the attitude if crossed. But it wasn't always like that. No, sometimes it was playful with some of the guests or workers that passed by - him included - always looking to make them smile. Swerve found it endearing.

It'd also pick up on patterns and behaviours fairly quickly.

One time he was walking around with one of his coworkers during lunch break, they were complaining something about scientists showing concern over the receeding waters and other climate change things that Swerve couldn't really be bothered to pay attention to. 

And either his coworker was oblivious of his obviously bored expression, or the sea creature was extremely attentive, because as soon as it managed to catch Swerve's attention, it smiled triumphantly and began to play some sort of charades. Wait, no. It was mimicking Swerve's coworker. And, if he was seeing this right, it was in a mocking manner.

He couldn't help the small snicker that left him, having to suppress a full blown laughing fit by biting down at his knuckles until it left marks. That seemed to satisfy the mermaid.

And also, finally, caught the attention of his coworker. “What's so funny? This is serious! Aren't you concerned at all for our future?”

Swerve had to compose himself, but that was made almost impossible by the continued mimicry of the creature directly behind his coworker. “S-sorry, sorry. Yes, of course, this is a very serious concern of yours…what are you concerned about again?”

He maybe should have felt bad for the way they exasperatedly threw their arms up, giving up in trying to converse with him, muttering something along the lines of “You're impossible!” But that was quickly shoved in favour of his amusement towards the fish currently still mimicking them.

Sometimes he'd go long periods of time without being able to see the creature, it left Swerve wondered if it could remember him. It looked pretty smart and seemed to understand things pretty well, to an almost unnervingly human level. He noticed that, whenever he returned, it seemed to be able to pick him out of any crowd and would offer him a brighter smile each time.

While one of his superiors explained to his group what they needed to do, they had stopped just a couple feet away from the tank that held the pretty, blue fish.

Swerve swears he was trying to pay attention, honestly! But the bright blue that reflected perfectly against the shine of the artificial lights simply caught at his eyes and it was impossible to look away.

When they had arrived, it was perched against another rock formation, swinging its tail back and forth as it stared at nothing in particular. He wondered if they gave it any form of entertainment or if it simply liked to stare mindlessly into the void. But the moment it caught sight of his team - and Swerve in particular - it lit up with energy, almost immediately jumping back inside the water and swimming closer to the glass that separated them.

Swerve pretended not to pay mind, not keen on getting in trouble again for not paying attention. And besides, it couldn't possibly be looking at him, right? It was probably just excited to see people after hours of solitude. But the longer he did that, the more saddened the creature looked. He couldn't disappoint the poor thing!

So, finally, he turned around to face it. They locked eyes for a brief moment. He couldn't quite describe the feeling, but it felt as if he was in the tank himself, floating with the creature in the vastness of the ocean, nothing else really mattering.

“Swerve!” The small bubble he had formed was harshly popped by his superior calling for his attention. He quickly turned back to look at his him, straightening his back and going stiff. “Pay attention when I'm speaking.”

“Yes, of course! Sorry, sir.” He sputtered out, relaxing just a tiny bit as he watched him let out an exasperated sigh while pinching the bridge of his nose. “As I was saying…”

Despite the way the call out left Swerve feeling hot in the face, he still found himself drifting back towards familiar blue. The striking, piercing eyes of the creature were patiently waiting for his, smiling.

Swerve smiled back, a little bashfully (which caused all sorts of conflicting thoughts to run laps around his brain). He rubbed the back of his neck absentmindedly, they continued to stare until the creature suddenly seemed…thoughtful? It was contemplating something, looking at the hand not currently resting against the glass of his confines.

Swerve tilted his head slightly, curious as to what it could possibly be thinking about. He watched as it turned to look back at him, a more shy smile displayed on his face before it did something that left Swerve stunned.

It waved.

It was such a small thing, such a small gesture, but it made Swerve's head spin and heart lurch. Up until now, it was always him who initiated the action, this was the first time he saw the fish do it instead.

He must have been staring for far too long because the creature suddenly became nervous and started to slow down its wave, looking away with uncertainty clear in its face.

“Swerve!” A booming voice called out, making him flinch. “Quit staring and get working!”

“Yes, sir! I'll be right over!” Swerve called back before quickly looking over at the mermaid and smiling, that big, bright smile that took over all his features, and hastily waved back before rushing after his group.

And, like always, he missed the way he left the fish stunned. But this time, it pushed itself backwards before swimming away with an electric spin, its own smile being all its face could show.

Okay so like. IMAGINE it starts pretty usual. Swerve hangs out in the Aquarium for whatever job related reason and accidentally makes friends with the weird looking fish hahah

But then the big Tsunami-flood apocalypse comes and everything is destroyed and water everywhere and all the buildings turn into sharp heavy deadly rubble and now Swerve has to team up with that weird looking fish because the end of the world contains A LOT of water and he never was a good swimmer

[thebiscuitlabryinth]

The Sage of Truth's heart is driven by the beat of curiosity, so he is used to questions and mysteries catching his fancy with all the ease of a match to a forest. They light a passion that burn him through investigation and calculation straight down to the slow embers of an answer or lack thereof, and even then the warmth of his newfound knowledge sparks a need to share what he has discovered with as many Cookies as possible. The affect that this zest for knowledge has on him is, in itself, an unshakeable Truth.

Despite all this, the Sage can still readily admit that nothing, no question or riddle or impossible formula, has ever captivated him as much as the Truthless Recluse.

The Truthless Recluse has always been a minor fascination of his, from the moment he had first heard of him, but that hadn't bloomed into anything signficant until he had the pleasure of meeting him at the square. The Recluse was both a delightfully complex and undeniably simple Cookie, easy for him to understand yet layered in contradictions.

The Truthless Recluse, whose life purpose is dedicated to his own Truth of protecting Cookies from the cruelty of Truth. A living, breathing riddle.

The Sage had intially nurtured a newborn hope that they would cross paths again in the square, and he had fallen into the habit of searching the crowds that flocked to his lectures for a glimpse of those dark robes, that gloomy aura, but alas! Of course, the Recluse would not grant him that honour more than once.

Eventually, the Sage accepted that if he hoped for another meeting, he would have to approach the Recluse himself. The thought did little to dissuade him, as he was rather experienced in chasing after his own flights of philosophical fancy.

So here he is, making the trek up to the Peak of Truth with only the pale moon to accompany him.

The Sage is confident in his path, and finds the journey itself pleasant overall. It may have been quite a while since he was last here, but he did once hail from this peak himself, long before the Recluse slunk and settled in. As such, he remembers the best routes to take, and has little difficult navigating in the encroaching dark.

He is just past halfway up when a silhouette emerges from the shadows, solemn and blurring together with the rest of their dim surroundings. The Sage's heart, driven by curiosity, doubles its beat, pounding excitedly in his chest.

"Who dares to–" The Recluse asks, voice low and gravelly in an attempt to intimidate, but he stops abruptly, narrowing his eyes at the Sage. "You."

"Yes, yes, it's just me." The Sage smiles, undeterred by the less than warm welcome, doing a little flourished bow before hopping back up into an upright position. "I know it is awfully late for a visit, my friend, but you see–"

"Don't call me that." The Recluse interrupts, somewhat rudely, but the Sage's interest in him allows him to let it go with little fuss. "We are not friends."

"Whyever not?" The Sage asks easily, tilting his head. "Are we not both Cookies, living in accordance to our own personal Truths, just like every other? You know, even a Cookie who does nothing but lie and cheat still has the Truth of their affinity for deception as a central pillar in their life."

"You said something similar already, at the square." The Recluse mutters, his gaze cold and heavy. The Sage welcomes it without a shiver. "About me living by a personal Truth."

"And am I wrong?" The Sage questions back, raising an eyebrow. He is genuinely interested to see if the Recluse can make any sort of substanial refutation.

But the Recluse simply presses his lips together in frustration and glances away. The Sage feels both a curl of satisfaction at his silently begrudging acceptance of his point and a chill of disappointment at the lack of an attempted counter.

His disappointment does not have to last long, as the Recluse returns his piercing gaze to him to make a point of his own. "If every Cookie's life relies on a personal Truth, then Life is just as cruel as Truth." The many eyes on the Recluse's mutated staff blink sluggishly, accusingly, their irises catching the thin moonlight in muddy ripples. "That does not show me any proof that we are friends. Which we are not."

"I only meant that there is nothing to stop us from being friends." The Sage clarifies, though he feels like he was quite clear the first time. "And I have never denied the complexities and, indeed, cruelties of Truth and Life alike. As I have told you before, Truth is imperfect, and I embrace that. You, however, seem to be unable to see past these complexities to accept the positives that Truth brings to the world too."

The Recluse seems unhappy with that, his hand tightening its grip around his staff and his frown deepening. "Did you come here only to give me a lecture?" He snaps, voice soft and brittle. "If I wanted to hear this, I would go to the square you insist on occupying."

"Did you not try to do the same to me, on your single visit to the square?" The Sage asks playfully with a growing grin, paying close attention to the way the Recluse stiffens. He laughs lightly. "Ah, don't think of this as a lecture, please. It's only meant to be a conversation. To be frank, I quite enjoyed our brief exchange back at the square, so I was hoping to get a chance to talk to you again. You seem like you would make a particularly interesting debate partner."

The Recluse huffs, shaking his head. "I have no interest in talking to you any further. This much was already bad enough."

With that, he turns away and tries to slink back into the shadows.

"Surely you aren't completely opposed?" The Sage argues, summoning a brilliant ball of light in his palm and rushing over to the Recluse's side, refusing to let him leave now. "If you were, you wouldn't have been willing to initiate our acquaintanceship first. You were the one responsible for that, when you visited the square."

The Recluse stops walking as the conjured light falls on his shoulders, reeling away and twisting around to glare at the Sage. The reflected light makes his dull eyes seem brighter, almost beautifully so. "I did that solely to stop you from sending dozens to their inevitable ruin by exposing them to the path of Truth." He hisses stubbornly. "If I had known it would be useless, and if I had known you would come chasing after me, I would have stayed far away."

"It is very easy to say that in retrospect, but you can't prove that to be true." The Sage points out with a shrug. "Unfortunately, my heart is rather set on this possible friendship of ours, so I'm afraid the matter is out of your hands now. You're stuck with me!"

The Recluse's expression closes in on itself, returning to a blank slate as he abruptly turns and begins to march off again. The Sage realises immediately that the Recluse hopes to discourage him by ignoring him and carrying on, but the Sage eagerly rises to the challenge.

He falls into step beside him, and the two of them walk together in silence, the Sage's light spilling like a pool of honey around them. The Sage watches the Recluse out of the corner of his eye, as the Recluse resolutely faces forward, acting as if he doesn't exist.

Eventually, the Sage's persistence pays off.

As they are approaching the summit, the Recluse comes to another stop, so sudden that the Sage almost walks into him. The Recluse does not turn back to look at him as he says quietly into the air, "Friendship is ultimately meaningless."

His voice is bitter, heavy with a sense of mourning. The Sage hums in consideration, rounding the Recluse to meet his face, raising his summoned light to envelope the surrounding area in a glow.

"What an intruigingly nihilistic statement!" He declares brightly, clapping his hands together. "It would make a riveting debate topic, if you'd entertain me for just an hour or two. Unless, of course, you worry your Truth will not be able to withstand mine?" The Sage rocks forwards on the balls of his feet, his smile a polite taunt. "After all, not all Truths are made equal. Some are stronger than others."

The Recluse glares at him again, though this time, it is weakened slightly by the growing resignation beginning to creep across his features. "You won't give this up, will you?"

"Of course not!" The Sage grins, hopeful that he seems to be slowly getting through to him. "Giving up is never the best option, you know."

The Recluse scoffs, raising his staff as dark wisps begin to swirl menacingly around it. "Not even if I decide to make you leave me alone by force?"

"Not even then!" The Sage chuckles, folding his arms behind his back as he squints his eyes at the Recluse. "Haven't you heard of me before? I can find an answer to anything and you," he takes a modest step closer, his eyes glittering with delight, "are my latest enigma."

The Recluse stares at him for a moment, his expression unreadable, which only makes the Sage wish to study it further. Finally, the Recluse sighs heavily, the dark energy accumulating around his staff dissipating in an instant.

"Fine." He murmurs, barely a whisper as he continues walking. The Sage lights up, his summoned light flaring along with him, and, taking it as an invitation, he follows after the Recluse to the rhythm of his achingly curious heart.

[oopsiedaisydeer]

ʙᴜᴢᴢᴇᴅ

caffeine, anger, anxiety, emotional tension, hurt/comfort, guilt, miscommunication, apology, self-awareness, light teasing

based off this request!

word count - 850ish

You’d never been much of a caffeine drinker, but today, you decided to give it a go. Just one coffee, you told yourself. Nothing too crazy. But as soon as you took that first sip, you felt the buzz start to kick in. Your thoughts were racing, and before you knew it, you were talking at a mile a minute.

“So, I was thinking we could go to that new café this weekend, right? I heard they have these amazing pastries, and oh, did I tell you about the movie I saw last night? The main character was hilarious, I swear, I want to be her friend, and the lighting was incredible, like, the whole aesthetic was perfect, and I just can’t stop thinking about it, and, oh! Wait, no, there was something else I wanted to say, oh yeah! Have you tried that new thing at McDonalds they just started selling?"

Chris, on the other hand, had just gotten back from a rough day and was barely holding it together. The energy you were radiating was overwhelming, and the caffeine was making you talk even faster. He tried to keep up, nodding a little, but it was getting harder to focus with each word.

Eventually, the pressure built up, and he snapped.

"Could you just... stop for a second?" His voice was sharper than he meant it to be, the words spilling out before he could stop them. "I’ve had a long day, alright? Just... just stop talking."

You froze immediately. The sharpness in his tone hit you harder than you expected, and your breath caught in your throat. You hadn’t realised you were talking so much. You stared at him, blinking rapidly, and you felt your chest tighten, a wave of guilt washing over you.

Chris was still standing there, his arms crossed, his eyes averted. His frustration wasn’t just with you, it was with himself, and he was trying to hold it together, but he didn’t know how to get out of this moment. His jaw clenched as he turned away, rubbing his face with one hand. "I’m sorry," he muttered, his voice rough. "It’s not you. I just... I had a shitty day, and the coffee’s got you talking a lot, and I don’t-"

His eyes flicked back to you, and he stopped mid-sentence. You were standing there, silent, your eyes glassy. It took him a moment to realize why the silence felt so heavy. It was because your eyes were brimming with unshed tears. “M’sorry, Chris”, you mumble.

His heart sank. Shit.

"I didn’t mean to-" He took a step toward you, his frustration suddenly replaced with guilt. He ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head as he took another step closer. "I just, sometimes I get overwhelmed, and it’s not your fault, okay? You didn’t do anything wrong."

You blinked, trying to hold back the tears, feeling embarrassed. "I didn’t mean to talk too much. I... I just got excited." Your voice came out quieter, a bit shaky, and the more you tried to explain, the harder it was to keep the tears in.

Chris cursed under his breath, guilt washing over him. "I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you like that." His tone softened, and he gently reached out, his fingers brushing your arm in a quiet apology. "It’s not you. It’s me. I’ve just been holding all this stuff in today, and I shouldn’t have taken it out on you."

You shook your head, trying to compose yourself. "No, no, it’s okay. I didn’t realise I was rambling so much. I’m sorry."

Chris’s expression softened even more, and he carefully reached up to brush a tear from your cheek. His touch tender, and he pulled you into a loose hug. "I don’t want to make you feel bad. You’re not annoying, okay? I was just... not in the right headspace, and I shouldn’t have said that. Like that, either."

You looked up at him, the tension easing a bit, but you still felt a little self-conscious. "I didn’t mean to overwhelm you. I just... I guess the caffeine did its thing."

Chris raised an eyebrow, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Yeah, I think you plus coffee is not a good combination," he teased lightly, trying to lighten the mood.

You couldn’t help but chuckle, the tension between you both starting to fade. "Maybe," you said with a playful shrug. "I wasn’t really thinking when I grabbed it. I don’t usually drink it so late."

Chris’s smile widened. "Yeah, no kidding. You’ve got like a sugar high. Might need to take you for a walk to wear you out."

You rolled your eyes, but your smile was genuine now. "Hey, I’m not that bad. You were the one getting all cranky."

Chris laughed, shaking his head. "Fair enough. Next time, I’ll just steal your coffee before you get the chance."

Chris stepped a little closer, his hand still gently resting on your arm. "I’m really sorry, though. I shouldn’t have gotten frustrated. It wasn’t about you."

"It’s okay," you replied, the earlier awkwardness now replaced with something more comfortable. 

With a last soft smile, Chris nodded. "Alright. All good?"

"All good," you said.

creds to rose for the divider! @bernardsbendystraws

a/n: now i want coffee lol. fun fact i am indeed not allowed to drink it.

taglist: @blushsturns @sturnslutz @snoopychris @sturnshood @sturns-mermaid @chrissweetheart @cowboylikenat @recordeeznuts @camzeecorner @sturniolo101 @courta13 @sweetshuga

cya very sooooon!

[muniimyg]

BAD HABIT // JJK

13 | mine // series m.list

note: hmmmmm ... yeah . angsty ... listen to this song for the vibes !!! this chapter is dramatic LOL ,, u get insight on oc's aura and jungkook is jus so kawawa (pitiful) !!!!

//

everything happens too fast.

the halls blur past you in streaks of gold and shadow as you run, lungs burning, heart slamming against your ribs. there’s no time to think. no time to process. all you know is the cold pit in your stomach, the weight of something wrong pressing down on your chest.

you push through jungkook’s door so hard it nearly flies off its hinges. the room is dim, suffocatingly still—except for them.

the others.

they aren’t moving either.

not at first.

their heads snap toward you at the same time, their gazes carrying a shared weight. a silent message you don’t want to decipher.

your stomach churns. no. no.

“where is he?” your voice is breathless, frantic—your throat already closing in. tell me he’s still here.

but the moment stretches.

too long.

the guys look at each other—frustration and helplessness hanging thick in the air, curling around you like a noose.

“he was right here—” jin starts, but his voice is tense, unsure.

taehyung drags a hand through his hair, his frustration barely masked. “one second, we were just trying to calm him down, and then—”

“he’s gone.” yoongi’s voice cuts through the air like a blade.

your breath stutters. the silence rings louder than anything else.

“what do you mean he’s gone?”

no one answers.

namjoon’s jaw tightens. taehyung shakes his head. jimin exhales sharply, gaze flickering toward the floor.

“he was—he was trying to catch his breath,” jimin says, voice uneven. “he asked for water. and then… we blinked. we turned away for a second. and then he wasn’t there anymore.” he swallows thickly.

“he left.”

your pulse roars in your ears.

“do you…” jimin hesitates. “do you know where he could have gone?”

the question slices through you.

“he hasn’t been talking to us these days,” jimin continues, softer now. “it’s hard to read him. you’re his soulmate, ___. i know you're busy and you're the princess and all but you—fuck, ___. you have to know.”

something inside you fractures.

because you don’t.

you don’t know where he is.

the afternoon glow is still.

the wind carries the faint scent of rain, but your chest is too tight, your pulse too loud for you to feel anything but the gnawing dread clawing its way up your throat.

it’s a total bust.

yet—you still call his name.

the sound feels small, swallowed whole by the vastness of the night. but you don’t stop. your voice cracks, grows hoarse, trembles—but you don’t stop.

you search between the bushes (just in case), pushing past flowers that crumble under your hurried steps. your fingers shake as they grip the edges of stone benches, the cold surface grounding you for a fleeting second before the panic sinks its teeth in deeper.

he’s not here.

your chest caves.

why did you think he’d be here?

why are you shaking?

your breath is shallow. uneven. like something is pressing down on your ribs, dragging into the space between each heartbeat.

jungkook is sick.

he’s been sick.

he’s been lying this entire time.

and you—you should have known.

a lump rises in your throat. thick. aching. you should have felt it in your body, in your bones, in the tether that ties you together. you should have found him before he ran. before he could slip between your fingers like this.

but you’re here—alone... drowning in your own silence. your eyes squeeze shut. breathe. you just have to—breathe. but the air is thin, and your lungs can’t find enough of it.

and then—

“the princess—please… i need to see her—”

your heart seizes.

for a moment, the world blurs—sound drops, breath catches, and for one agonizing beat, there is nothing but the violent stillness of realization crashing into you like a tidal wave.

then—

your head snaps up so fast the ground sways beneath you, vision swimming with streaks of moonlight and shadow.

it’s faint.

a whisper barely carried by the wind. weak. frayed at the edges, like a thread unraveling, like a flame struggling against the dark.

but you would know it anywhere.

you would know it in the marrow of your bones, in the cracks of your soul. in the echoes of every moment you’ve ever spent memorizing the cadence of his voice.

you would know it in your dreams—where it’s warm, teasing, full of the quiet love he never says aloud. you would know it in places you've never gone to or in the crowd of people you could be swallowed alive in. you would know it buried beneath the weight of the earth, beyond the veil of time, beyond life itself.

god…

you would know it from the stars, from the edge of the universe, from the gates of heaven if he called for you.

and he’s calling for you now.

jungkook.

the air is knocked from your lungs. your heart lurches violently against your ribs, a breathless, frantic thing as your feet move before thought can catch up.

the garden blurs past you.

the wind howls in your ears. your pulse is a deafening drumbeat of please, please, please as you tear through the garden, chasing the only thing that has ever truly belonged to you.

him.

the sight knocks the breath from your lungs.

jungkook is barely standing. his body sways, weak and unsteady, yet he still throws himself at your guards, fists trembling with exhaustion, desperation clinging to every motion. it’s a sad attempt—one they hardly acknowledge. they don’t move. they don’t falter.

he tries again.

this time, they're more firm in blocking him. he grunts from the pain, but he braces himself... he tries again.

but, suddenly—hands are on him.

as they do it, the restraint feels more hesitant than forceful, like even they know they shouldn’t be doing this.

your heart stops.

"let him go."

jungkook's head snaps up at the sound of your voice, but his eyes are unfocused, glazed over with fatigue. he’s barely breathing—his chest stuttering with every attempt to pull in air. but as you step closer, something shifts.

like he’s breaking through the surface of water. like he can finally breathe. his air is purified.

"princess," one of the guards starts, his voice carefully measured. "we tried telling him you weren’t inside. we have also been told by the council that no one is allowed to enter the west wing—"

"do you see him?"

your voice slices through the night like a blade, sharp enough to make them flinch. you step forward, hand reaching for jungkook, but before you can even touch him, his body gives out completely.

he collapses into you.

as his full weight sinking against yours, you stumble back, arms tightening instinctively around him.

he’s cold.

too cold.

something inside you snaps.

the guards hesitate. you see it—the way their bodies stiffen, the way their eyes dart between each other, unsure.

"i asked you—do you see him?"

silence.

your fingers tremble as you cradle jungkook’s face, feeling the unnatural chill of his skin. his body isn’t just weak—it’s wrong.

and they just stood there.

they let this happen.

"you all serve my parents," you whisper, voice dripping with venom. "but you answer to me. so tell me—do you see him?"

by the end of it, you're shouting. your voice is strong and makes no room to assume any feelings of yours. you're angry.

you're furious.

jungkook exhales weakly against your collar, his fingers twitching against your arm. he’s trying to hush you. trying to tell you he’s okay.

but he’s not.

and that’s exactly why you’re furious.

the guards exchange wary glances before one of them finally dares to speak. you glare at him even more, eyes almost twitching from your impatience.

"yes, princess." one guard speaks.

you take a breath.

"then why did you stand there and let him dim?"

you see a handful of them gulp. then, another answers. "princess, we understand he’s your friend, but our duty is—"

the words scrape your throat, raw and unrelenting.

"he is my soulmate." you cry, as it rips from you like a confession, a prayer, a curse. "he is a part of the divinity just as much as i am."

"yes, princess... but, the council—"

jungkook shifts weakly in your arms, trying—failing—to hold you back. his fingers curl against your waist, but he doesn’t have the strength to cling to you like he wants to. instead, he feels you—the pain in your chest, the way your heart aches with a grief so visceral it makes him dizzy.

"if my parents can not dismiss what he is to me, why can you? what part of this do you not understand? anger me more and i’ll call this treason!”

“princess, we didn’t mean to—“

“his light is mine. he is mine. how dare you let him dim!"

the weight of your words hangs heavy in the air.

the guards bow their heads, stiff with shame.

"our apologies, princess."

you don’t acknowledge them.

your arms tighten around jungkook, your forehead pressing against his, your breaths mingling in the cold night air. his body shudders, his skin damp, his breath so shallow it nearly undoes you.

then—

heavy footsteps. the sound of rushed breathing.

a presence behind you.

the rest of them are here.

jin. namjoon. taehyung. jimin. yoongi. hoseok.

they stop a few steps away, their gazes locked on the scene before them—the way you’re holding jungkook like you’re trying to keep him tethered to this world, the way your body trembles with barely contained rage.

you feel them watching, but you don’t look away.

you shift, lowering him carefully onto his knees, never once letting go. then—you can't help it.

your mind races and before you know it, your fingers curl into a fist. you raise them and slam it to the ground.

the earth shakes.

the ground underneath fractures for a moment before power erupts from you like a storm, pulsing outward in a brilliant wave. it wraps around jungkook’s slumped form, pressing back the hands that dared to touch him. the guards stumble away, eyes wide, and even the others—jin, namjoon, yoongi, all of them—freeze in place as your energy hums, encasing him in an invisible shield.

from the outside, it's difficult to make out what's happening.

the energy bursts from you like a shockwave, rippling outward in a radiant pulse that sends dust and debris scattering across the ground. the air around you shifts—dense, electric—before it spins.

everything surrounding you and jungkook is caught in the force of your aura. leaves and loose gravel twist into the air, swirling in rapid, frantic loops, like a storm caught in place. the wind howls around you, kicking up dirt, blurring the edges of your figures as if the world itself is struggling to look directly at you.

from the outside, the shield is a vortex—wild and untamed.

its edges shimmer and distort, an unearthly fog curling around its perimeter, thick and opaque, obscuring you and jungkook from prying eyes. the air warps, bending like heat rising from scorched earth, making everything beyond the barrier seem distant—as if you exist in a different realm entirely.

but at the center of the chaos, at the heart of the storm—is peace.

inside, the air is still.

quiet.

gentle.

the wind that rages outside doesn’t reach jungkook. the chill that had seeped into his bones before is gone, replaced by your warmth, your hands, your presence.

the others can only watch, stunned, barely able to see past the spiraling mass of energy surrounding you. the guards, once firm in their stance, now hesitate, stepping back, hands falling away from their weapons as realization sets in.

"what did she do?" jimin whispers to nam joon.

nam joon blinks.

"i... i've only really read about it... b-but that's a shield. it's her aura... it's protection. she's generating jungkook's healing faster. only auras that are of a higher power can do this—holy fuck. she’s truly the divine.”

“shit,” yoongi huffs. “let’s note to never piss her off.”

the guys exchange chuckles, attempting to lighten the mood. then, nam joon lets out a big sigh as he makes another realization.

“this… this is also just a really... angry statement." nam joon explains it, but he can't believe it himself.

and no one can deny it.

though it looks messy up close, it's utterly enchanting. a monet.

taehyug gulps. "she's angry?"

jin blinks.

then, he shuts his eyes and locks into his aura. there, he sees you holding jungkook and fighting the urge to scream and cry (more than you already have). more than that, he sees the glint in your eyes. as jin reels himself back into the present, he sighs and shakes his head.

"she's not angry," jin breathes. "she's hurt."

inside the shield, jungkook exhales weakly, his body relaxing for the first time in a while. you cup his face, smoothing your thumb over his skin, warm now—no longer cold, no longer wrong. you watch as colour flushes back to his cheeks.

"what did they do to you? hmm? what hurts? tell me, i’ll—"

hsi trembling hand covers yours. jungkook smiles—small, weak, dying.

"i’m okay, baby," he whispers.

you shake your head immediately, fighting the stinging in your eyes.

"stop saying that." you throw your head back, frustrated. “stop lying to me.”

his smile doesn’t falter.

if anything, it softens. jungkook huffs a breath—barely a laugh—and shifts slightly, his forehead bumping against yours.

"i'm okay, really..." he says, almost convincing you. "just give me two minutes."

your throat closes up, your hands gripping him tighter.

"idiot," you whisper. "how could you be this irresponsible? why can't you be honest with me? did it really have to reach this point, jungkook? seriously? i almost blew up the entire world—"

"i know."

"how could you possibly know—"

"i felt it," his fingers twitch over yours, squeezing weakly. "you went vulnerable when they texted you. i heard your heart. i felt it... felt it beat for me. your heart wasn't racing because of what's his face... it was racing because of me. so, i had to find you. i had to—"

he pauses and reaches to wipe your tears. you're crying now, sniffing and trying to hold in your sobs.

then, quietly, he says; "i wanted to say i'm sorry."

your chest caves.

"for what?"

"for acting the way i did," he sighs. "___, i could live in any and every universe and still not deserve you. i felt jealous and didn't know how to face it. so, i buried myself in it and suffocated. i just… i messed up. i'm sorry, p."

you gulp, your throat tight, your heartbeat erratic.

the weight of everything—your fear, your anger, your love—presses down on you like a tidal wave. but then, beneath your fingertips, you feel it.

jungkook’s glow steadies, settling beneath his skin like embers fanned into flame. his chest rises, then falls—this time with purpose, with ease. the ragged edge of his breath smooths out, and slowly…

he moves.

his fingers brush over yours, trembling but intent, before he takes your hands into his own. gently. carefully. as if grounding himself in your touch. you feel the roughness of his palms, the way his thumbs press into your knuckles, as though memorizing the shape of you.

and then, wordlessly, he uncurls your fist.

your body is still locked in defense, your fingers clenched tight, nails digging into your skin. but jungkook—he doesn’t force you.

he just holds you, his warmth melting into yours, his touch soft, coaxing. his gaze finds yours, dark eyes brimming with something raw, something unspoken.

"it’s okay," he breathes, barely above a whisper. "i'm okay."

for the first time, you feel his honesty.

and just like that, the storm dies.

the shield that had spun wildly around you collapses in an instant, unraveling like silk in the wind. the air stills. the fog dissipates, fading into nothingness. dust and leaves settle back onto the ground, the world returning to itself—yet, somehow, nothing feels the same.

a silence falls over the courtyard.

when you look up, they’re all staring.

the guards.

jin, namjoon, jimin, taehyung, hobi, and yoongi… their faces are unreadable—some stunned, some shaken, but all of them watching. because what they just saw, what they just felt—it was undeniable;

if soulmates were written in the stars, then you and jungkook are the stardust—scattered, shattered, yet always finding your way back to each other... completely and utterly drawn together by something the universe itself cannot undo.

[manicandobsessive]

You’re my lady, I’m your fool | L.H.

Summary: Logan missed his girl.

Warnings: fluff fluff and more fluff, the man is lovesick, cursing, pet names, SUGGESTIVE, mdni please, reader is shorter than logan, based on a wham song, not really proofread im lazy, kind of rushed ending but its still cute

WC: 1.5k+

I had a vision after listening to this song and I wrote this in approximately 1 hour. I’m a wham girlie.

Home. You. Dinner.

That was the mantra Logan chose to repeat in order to remain sane on his drive home. Pedal to the medal, at least 30 over the speed limit at all times. The truck rumbled and groaned with the weight of years of memories and use under him, but he continued his trek home regardless.

Gonna have to change the fuckin’ oil soon, too. He thought. The mere inconvenience adding to his already ever-present irritation.

Every douchebag in Canada had decided today was the day to test his patience. From his dumbfuck coworkers at the lumber yard to the asshole currently riding his tail. He’d had enough. He wanted to be home with you. His girl. His sweetheart, angel, darling, the list goes on. The thought of you was the one string pulling him back to reality. The tether to his life he cherished with every bone in his aching body. He truly didn’t know where he would be if he didn’t have you.

Probably jail.

But you taught him the beauty of kindness. Yours being a beacon of hope for him when he accidentally spilled beer on you at a dingy bar. He’d been staring at you anyways, but humiliating himself wasn’t on the agenda for the night. Yet you didn’t scoff at him, didn’t look at him sideways, not even a curse under your breath. You didn’t bat a fucking eyelash and without skipping a beat, you asked if he was okay. The first example of many showing your unwavering selflessness. It was admirable, you were the better half of the pair of you- in his opinion. He often found himself frustrated with your lack of regard towards yourself, brushing it off like nothing. He’d tried time and time again to tell you to take care of yourself, not to worry about him. And you always, always told him the same fucking thing:

“Can’t control it, Lo. Just care about you.”

Hugging him tightly around the waist, resting your chin on his pecs and looking up at him with that sweet, sweet smile. Your bright eyes and soft face making him huff as he instinctively moved his own arms to hold you closer to him. He never could find himself angry with you.

He reminisced on those memories often. On top of plenty of other moments with you that brought a pleasant smile to his face.

He had no idea that accident at the bar almost 3 years ago would bring him to this point, but fuck if he isn’t overjoyed that it did.

Love was never on Logan’s radar. Written off as another extra thing he didn’t need to bother with. He was certain that life would never be for someone like him- that he’d never find someone to accept him for what he is. For who he is. And you did without a second thought. You’d blown life right back into him, showing him what real happiness is. He swears that when he met you the sun shone brighter each day. Something you would always roll your eyes at, calling him cheesy. But he wholeheartedly believed it- which is saying a lot coming from a man who no longer believes in much else.

The soft glow of your shared cabin came into view, practically calling to him by name. The visual had already calmed his racing heart, knowing you were waiting for him. Probably in one of his flannels and old socks. Your hair flowing freely and your entire demeanor relaxed. It was his favorite look on you, other than when you were begging for him, caged between his thick arms. An endeavor for later, to say the least.

He slammed the truck door shut, moving with a newfound purpose to the front door. He kicked off his boots, leaving them on the front porch. If you took care of the house, the least he could do was be mindful of it.

And laundry, he knew you fucking hated laundry.

The door swung open. Logan made a silent note in his head to oil the hinges of that thing, the creaking got on his nerves.

He’d heard faint music from outside, the notes only getting louder the closer he got to where he needed to be- near you. He knew you were cooking, he could smell the various seasonings and vegetables. But most of all the music. You always had something playing, but it was only ever this loud and upbeat when you were in the kitchen. He’d found you dancing and singing enough times to know what the deal was.

And tonight was no different.

He knew you loved this song, something your dad had you listen to as a kid. A song you grew up on and still loved to present day. He was never a big fan of 80s pop, but whatever you enjoyed he was right there with you. Bopping his head along or tapping his foot lightly, it always made you giggle.

He leant against the wall, watching as you moved with ease throughout the kitchen. How you weren’t an extraterrestrial being was beyond him. He swore you had a halo sometimes.

The grace of your smile, the lightness in your steps, even your voice as you sung along to the music entranced him. Like a siren call. He made his way into the room, smiling when you weren’t even phased in the slightest at him catching you mid concert.

He was however surprised when you pulled him in by his arms, swinging them back and forth as you laughed. He was so caught up in your smile he didn’t even register you telling him to dance with you. Slowly but surely he gave in, a deep, warm chuckle erupting from his chest as you jumped and sang with the energy of a kid on Christmas morning. Your soft hands and sweet scent making him all the more taken with you, if that was even possible.

He spun you, lifting you off the ground in his arms as you let out a squeal.

“Logan!”

He put you down, not bothering to even try removing his arms from your waist as he looked down at you with the most lovesick expression on Earth. Scratch that, every universe. There wasn’t a single one where he hadn’t been head over heels in love with you.

“Hi baby.” He smirked when your face flushed as it always did when he called you that. He loved seeing it, it gave him butterflies. Even after all this time.

You slowly inched your arms around his neck, entangling your fingers with the hair on the base of his neck. He hummed and buried his face into your own, making you giggle. He pressed feather-light kisses on your neck and jaw before pulling back to look down at you once again.

You sung along to the rest of the song, Logan even joining in for one part:

“You’re my lady, I’m your fool.”

He sang, making you smile as you pecked his lips and he drew you in for a much deeper kiss.

“How was work?” You asked as he rested his forehead against yours. He groaned, not bothering to ruin the moment with the laundry list of complaints he’d had about people.

“Hell.” He simply replied, “Missed ya too much.” He mumbled against your lips, kissing you yet again.

You hummed in contentment against his mouth, pulling him impossibly closer. He was so intoxicating you nearly fell to the floor every time he kissed you. Always making you forget your name with the way his lips and tongue moved against your own.

He slowly walked you backwards, not breaking the kiss as he led you to your bedroom. He’d needed to show you how much he missed you since he left this morning. He was a lovesick fuck, and was damn proud of it.

You obliged without hesitation, allowing him to take control and softly rest you on your back on the bed. He kissed your eyelids, cheeks, nose, forehead. Anywhere that was accessible to him, he worshipped it- worshipped you. Your breath hitched, arching into him. You’d nearly forgotten you were in the middle of cooking when he came home. The realization hitting you in the face as you squirmed.

“Lo, dinner.” You huffed, trying- and failing- to push him away so you could finish cooking. Of course, you couldn’t fight off a man with a metal skeleton, let alone want to. You needed him, desperately. But you also wanted to make sure the house didn’t go up in flames.

“Logan.” You groaned, he growled against your skin. Pinning you down effectively as he continued his trail of kisses down your body.

“Logan Howlett.” You said with all the authority you could muster up in the moment. He stopped, lifting his head from your stomach and looking at you with a raised brow and that stupidly handsome smirk.

“Yeah, baby?”

“I gotta finish dinner.” You tried to look as stern as you could, but the way his rough hands were gently stroking your thighs made it impossible. Not to mention the look on his face. You knew him well enough to recognize it. Whatever he was about to say would solidify the one thing you knew: you weren’t leaving this bed anytime soon.

“I’ll cook. Jus’ lemme have this, sweetheart. I missed ya.”

[missyonmission]

NSFW - no minors - smut with plot - Part 1

Plot: His reputation precedes him - brilliant, arrogant, and unapologetically wild. And you, unfortunately, are caught in the orbit of his influence. Your submission gives him a power rush like nothing else and he enjoys toying with your emotions, knowing that you will always come back, that the push and pull of your relationship is a game he has mastered long ago.

In a fateful night where harsh punishments and the desire to destroy the last remaining bits of yourself turn into passionate kisses and the desperate need to give and receive affection, Sukuna loses himself in what has become the most important thing in his life. You.

Warnings: dom!Sukuna - submissive!Reader - sadist/masochist dynamic - power play - pet play - (semi public) punishments - humiliation - degrading - wounds/grazes (but Sukuna takes care of them) - marking (light biting, scratching, talk about branding) - fingering - cum eating - missionary - mating press - begging - crying - forced orgasms - overstimulation - somno

Words: 10.094

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

Sukuna, with his striking features and undeniable charm, is a force of nature on campus. His reputation precedes him - brilliant, arrogant, and unapologetically wild. And you, unfortunately, are caught in the orbit of his influence, the one who had become his unofficial partner in a chaotic dance of sadistic pleasure and complete devotion. The term "girlfriend" has never applied to your relationship. It was more of an unspoken agreement, a complex arrangement of mutual attraction and deep-seated frustration.

This specific night, the campus frats are hosting a party, a vibrant affair where students are gathered to celebrate the beginning of the new semester. The party is already in full swing when you see Sukuna approach a girl you don’t recognize. Like always in public, he outwardly showed you that he couldn't care less about you. That you are just a toy to play with whenever he gets bored. Before your very eyes, Sukuna leans in and kisses the girl. The act is bold and brazen, a clear message that he had no intention of respecting your feelings. In his mind, you belong to him, and he can do and treat you however he wants.

He is honestly impressed with how much your need for his attention, your submission, and your desire to please him runs. It always gives him a power rush like nothing else and although Sukuna would never admit it to anyone, you are his favorite out of all the pets he played with in the past and he's sure there will be no one quite like you in the future as well. In a twisted way, he is just as dependent on you as you are on him.

When Sukuna finally returns to your side, he is smirking, eyes glinting with a mixture of challenge and amusement. The kiss is over, but its effects linger heavily in the air.

“What’s wrong, huh? What?! Do you still think you have some kind of claim on me? I was just having some fun. Don't look at me like that. Jealousy is not a good look on you." Sukuna’s voice is laced with an almost playful, mocking curiosity. He knows exactly what is wrong. He just wants to see how you would react. Sukuna thrives on chaos and manipulation. He enjoys toying with your emotions, testing the limits of your patience and loyalty. His pride and self-absorption always make a straightforward apology impossible. Not that he's ever in the wrong, in the first place…

Instead, he revels in the control he has over you, knowing that you will forgive him, no matter how much he provokes you. He knows you will come back, that the push and pull of your relationship is a game he had mastered long ago.

"You should know by now that I’m not exactly boyfriend material." There is a condescending smirk on his lips and a silence between you, a heavy pause that seems to stretch into eternity. Despite his cruel games and his inability to show genuine affection, you are drawn to him in a way that was impossible to ignore.

Unlucky you…

You knew you had it coming your way. You two weren't official, hell, you aren't even anything serious to begin with, and Sukuna made sure you never forget that fact. But tonight, you couldn't control yourself, couldn't control the overwhelming emotions of hurt and desperation. You already made a snarky comment about him flirting with some random girl earlier this evening, letting your bitterness and jealousy shine through, and you know he hates when you act like that. You should have known he would feel the need to assert dominance and would try to belittle and humiliate you for it.

"Are you feeling better now?" You grit out through your teeth, the alcohol loosening your tongue and making you say things you usually wouldn't.

“Come on, don’t be like that. You’re acting so childish,” Sukuna retorts, his voice laced with condescension. “I understand that you’re jealous, but you’re making a fool of yourself in front of everyone.”

Sukuna reaches forward, grabbing your chin with a firm grip. His gaze pierces into you, a challenge lurking behind his amusement. “If you can’t handle this, then perhaps I should just go find someone else who can. After all, there are plenty of better options…” His voice trails off, leaving a heavy threat looming in the air.

His words sting, and you have to clench your hands into fists at your sides, to not start tearing up. You know he's right and that it isn't just empty threats. Sukuna is handsome and rich, and he could be charming if he wanted to be. No matter the girl he wanted, he would be able to get her.

"You're an asshole, Sukuna." Your voice is laced with anger and frustration, and you swat his hand away from your chin, turning around to leave.

“Now, now, don’t be disrespectful.” Sukuna’s voice thunders with authority as he swiftly closes the distance between you, his hand grabbing your wrist with surprising strength.

“You’re not going anywhere. I own you. You’re mine, so you better start acting like it.” Sukuna’s voice is low and threatening, laced with a possessiveness that sends a shiver down your spine. “Now apologize for calling me an asshole, and then we’ll talk about how you can make it up to me.”

You can't help but whimper quietly at his low, threatening tone. His voice is laced with authority and doesn't leave any room for further argument or bratty attitude. You know he doesn't handle disobedience very well.

You swallow hard before speaking quietly, almost inaudible but clearly defeated. "I'm sorry, Sukuna..." Every fight in your body has already left you completely, replaced by the urge to do everything he wants you to do, just to get on his good side again.

Sukuna nods, satisfied with your apology. “That’s better. See, it’s not so hard to accept your place, is it?” He smirks, his hand slowly releasing your wrist. “But, I’m not finished with you yet. I still need retribution for your insolence.” Sukuna’s voice is low and dangerous, his crimson eyes fixed on you with an intensity that makes the hairs on the back of your neck rise. “Kneel.”

"What?" You freeze up, looking around for any passerbys. You are in a relatively secluded area, a little away from the main party behind the building, but anyone could just walk by any minute.

"Here? But- but... We are in public... Everyone could- Any minute someone could walk by and-" You try to protest, to reason with him, despite knowing it will be pointless. Once Sukuna's in the mood and has his mind set on something, it was impossible to talk him out of it and you know you will just follow whatever he wants from you, even if it's making you feel uncomfortable.

“Did I give you permission to speak?” Sukuna growls, his impatience evident. He grabs you by the hair, his grip tightening almost painfully. “Listen to me and listen well. You are my property. I own you, body and soul. So if I tell you to kneel, you kneel. And you’ll do it now. You don’t get to refuse my orders. That’s not up for debate."

He grabs your shoulder with a rough shove, forcing you to your knees. In this moment, Sukuna embodies a terrifying presence. His words echo with a primal authority that makes it clear that he is not a man who accepts dissent.

You wince out immediately when he grabs your hair and shoves you to the ground. Your knees are scraping against the rough surface of the asphalt beneath you. The skintight short dress you wore specifically for him does nothing to hide your curves, showing off so much of your delicious, currently unmarked skin that it should be illegal and Sukuna gets the best view down your cleavage from above.

You look up at him, one of his hands still buried in your hair with a painfully tight grip, and tears start to brim already around your lashes.

Sukuna smirks, his crimson eyes narrowing with cold satisfaction. “Now, let me remind you of your place…” He whispers menacingly.

He leans down, his hold on your hair unwavering, his eyes locking with yours. He lowers his voice to an icy, dangerous tone that sends another shiver down your spine. “If you ever dare to call me an ‘asshole’ in public again, I’ll make sure you never walk straight again. Is that clear?”

"Yes, Master Sukuna." You breathe out the words in defeat, surrendering to his will. Whatever he does to you, no matter how hurtful or cruel, you both know deep down you will enjoy it. You both are a little twisted, getting off on this power dynamic, and that's why this thing between you works so well in the first place.

Sukuna chuckles, pleased with your submission. “Good girl.” His voice is a low purr, filled with satisfaction. “Now, show me how obedient you can be.” He releases his grip on your hair, taking a step back, his crimson eyes fixating on you. “Crawl to me and kiss my feet. Beg me for forgiveness as best as you can, little pet.”

Sukuna is always one for the creative and most humiliating punishments. You whimper and start to crawl over to him on all fours. Your ass is on display for everyone who would walk behind you, and your knees are still painfully scraping over the ground. Every time you reach up to him, he takes some more steps back, just to humiliate you further.

When you finally reach him, you bow down in dogeza out of respect and press your forehead into the dirty ground for a moment before your face comes up just slightly, pressing gentle kisses to the top of his shoe.

Sukuna watches as you crawl to him, his eyes filled with a cruel, sadistic amusement. He loves it, the way you have no shame when it comes to him and follow his every whim… Oh, he trained you so well.

He smirks, clearly delighted by your humiliation. His voice is thick with a sadistic satisfaction. “Very good. Now, thank me for letting you kiss my shoes. And you better be convincing enough, slut or I might just have to let my anger out differently.”

He steps back, smirking at your humiliating position. He's already lightly stepping onto the fingers of your left hand, not enough to actually crush it, but enough to already make it hurt. He pauses for a moment, his lips curling into a grin. “Beg to be mine once more. But this time, make it… passionate. Make it memorable.”

You let out a small cry of pain when he steps onto your fingers but you know that this is nothing in comparison to what he is actually capable of, in comparison to what he can really do to you and has already done in the past. You hold back any more sounds, biting your tongue to suppress the tears.

"Thank you…” You whimper out the words quietly, again, giving in to his wishes and beg so prettily for his consideration. “Thank you for letting me kiss your shoes. For letting me serve you, taking me in and helping me act properly. Thank you for reminding me where I belong. That I belong to you, Master Sukuna. Please forgive me and my rudeness. I wasn't thinking clearly, the alcohol and-" You stop immediately knowing that making excuses will only further infuriate him. He doesn't want to hear them. He doesn't care why. He just cares for you acting accordingly.

Sukuna's smirk widens, amusement dancing in his crimson eyes as he listens to your pleas and excuses. "Well, you're learning faster than I thought. I must say, I'm impressed. So..." He lets out a low sigh, his grin never faltering. "I suppose I can forgive you. But it's not just forgiveness you need. You need to show me you're truly grateful and remember your place."

He leans down, grabbing your chin with a deceptively gentle touch. "From now on, you call me Master in public, and your behavior must reflect that. Understood?”

You swallow hard at his words, your lips are trembling, and you want to refuse. You know you should refuse. This is going to be one of the most publicly humiliating things he ever told you to do. You know he will take full advantage of it as soon as you nod your head so stupidly, like you always do to his commands. This will not only stay between you two anymore, like he always wanted. This will not leave your friends wondering which guy you always sneak away with and for whom you are acting so differently than your usual self. This will directly tie you to Sukuna and will make everyone around you realize who the man is that has brainwashed you into a completely different person. This will haunt you for the next few years until you finish college and maybe even after that.

And weirdly enough, at the same time, you can't help but squirm a little in front of him on your knees. The image he creates, the possibilities of scenarios running through your head, it excites you to no end.

"Yes, Master Sukuna." You avert your eyes down to the ground in shame.

Sukuna's smirk transforms into a sinister chuckle. "Good girl. I knew you'd come around." His hand moves from your chin, gently patting your head like you're some kind of dog or a pet. Sukuna's smirk only widens even more at the sight of your shame and submission. He's enjoying you being a willing victim for his cruel games of pleasure. Your agreement to his demand only fuels him further. "Now... I think it's time for some special lessons to help remind you of your place."

He reaches down, taking hold of your chin again and lifting it up with a firm grip. "I want you to crawl alongside me all the way back to my dorm room. We have a lot of things to go over and learn. Get moving, pet!”

You let out another pathetic whimper when he kicks your ass as a sign to start moving and casually walks towards his dorm. You look around for other people, but luckily, you don't see anyone in sight. You quickly crawl after him, trying to keep up with his pace, following him.

When you arrive at his dorm, your knees and hands are hurting all over. They are scraped, red, and a bit bloody with small stones, dirt, and grass clinging to the wounds.

Sukuna walks inside, turning his head towards you with a sinister smirk. “Crawl inside, bitch. You know how I like you better on your knees anyway.” He watches you crawl inside, his eyes trained on the curve of your ass in that short dress, that hugs your perfect body so beautifully.

He kicks off his shoes, gets a cloth and a bowl of warm water, and sits on the couch in his dorm, leaning back comfortably. He pats his lap once, silently telling you what to do.

You crawl up to him and in between his spread thighs, looking up at Sukuna through tear filled eyes and silently sniffle. You place your hands with your palms to the ceiling on either of his legs.

When he starts to take one of your hands into his and clean up the wounds, you blink up at him in confusion. His touch is gentle, almost tender and caring. He never did something like this in the past, and you never expected him to act like this either.

Sukuna doesn't say a word, his fingers cleaning and treating your wounds with practiced efficiency. The silence is broken only by a low hum emanating from Sukuna's chest. It's soothing, almost rhythmic.

He dabs antiseptic on your skin, his touch surprisingly gentle. Every now and then, he leans down to inspect a wound more closely, blowing a cool breath over it to ease the inflammation. He doesn't say anything at first except for a low murmur of comfort, the sound vibrating against your skin.

His voice is low and rumbling deeply in his chest as he works. "It's important for a pet to be taken care of. And it's my responsibility to do so... as your master, of course." He pauses, glancing down into your eyes, and for a moment you think there is something close to intimacy between you two, not only physical but a connection that runs deeper than that. "Tell me, pet.... Are you afraid of me?”

You look down at how he cleans up the wounds, thinking over his words and question for a moment. You look up at him again, watching his face and how his eyebrows furrow in concentration when he dabs the warm washcloth over the wounds.

You finally decide and shake your head 'no' slowly, your voice barely above a whisper to not break the comforting silence. "No. No, I'm not…”

You don't know if this is one of his games, a trick question to see if his past lesson stuck and a chance for you to prove your loyalty. Or maybe he wanted you to answer like this just to turn your words against you and inflict more pain? Whatever it is, you're sure you have answered his question truthfully. Are you afraid of him? No. No, you're not. Right?

He takes a bandage from the med-kit on the side and slowly wraps each finger of your right hand. It's a gesture of care, almost compassionate. When he finishes, he presses a light kiss on top of each bandage.

“That's good..." He murmurs, his voice low. “A pet should respect their owner, not be afraid of them...”

Once he's done, he reaches up, stroking your hair affectionately, still holding one of your hands with his other. "I want you to understand that my discipline and training come from a place of genuine care. Your pain serves as a reminder of your subservience, it does not stem from a desire to harm you."

His tender touch and kisses on top of the bandages are making your heart ache. It's a side of him you’ve never seen before, no matter how hard your training and punishments were. The most aftercare he ever showed you was a warm shower and the opportunity of you staying the night instead of getting kicked out.

Sukuna himself doesn't know if his words are actually true, but there is one thing he is aware of, he doesn't want to imagine his life without you at his feet anymore. He shifts on the couch, reaching behind his back to fluff the pillows slightly. "Come here, pet.”

You scramble up from your knees and onto your feet, wanting to follow his order as fast as possible, hissing slightly when the untreated cuts on your knees start stinging. You sit down on the couch, placing your legs over his lap, and he starts to clean the wounds on your knees with the same tenderness.

Sukuna nods, his face serious as he tends to your scraped up knees with efficiency. The wounds are painful but nothing too serious. As he works, his voice is low and soothing. “Good girl... Just breathe..."

He notices a particularly deep cut and pauses, a brief flash of concern crossing his features. He takes a cotton swab and dabs some antiseptic on the wound before placing a small bandage over it.

He doesn't speak at first, simply focusing on his task, his touch almost feather-like. But then, he speaks up, his voice barely above a whisper. "I want you to know something, pet... Your submission is a sign of your strength. It takes courage and trust to give yourself to someone else like this.”

You lean into his side more, your shoulder is brushing against his arm, and your head starts to rest against his shoulder, with your legs still draped over his lap. It's a position you never found yourself in with him, so intimate and loving.

"I trust you, Sukuna- I mean, Master Sukuna..." You quickly correct yourself, not wanting to anger him again.

Sukuna smirks, a proud glint in his eyes. "Good girl..." He murmurs, his voice low and gentle and places a kiss against your temple.

He finishes bandaging your knees and shifts on the couch, gently pulling you into his lap so that you're straddling him. His hands roaming over your body, touching you almost possessively.

"You've been such a good pet, taking your punishment without complaining. You deserve a reward, don't you think?" He whispers, his lips ghosting over your ear.

"Thank you, Master." The prospect of getting a reward makes you excited, but you know it's best to treat forward carefully. Sukuna's moods could always swing full force to brutal and relentless if you phrased your sentences wrong.

"I'm sorry for today... So, so sorry for earlier, Master Sukuna..." Fresh tears well up in your eyes at the thought of disappointing him, your mind driven into a deep submissive headspace already from your punishment.

Sukuna chuckles, his hand coming up to gently wipe away your tears with his thumb. "Ssssh, shh, little pet..." He murmurs, his voice gentle, soothing even. "You did well. You took your punishment without complaint or resistance. I know it was difficult for you..."

His lips caress your neck, leaving a trail of kisses behind, his breath hot against your skin. "You deserve a reward. Tell me, what do you want?”

"Can I please... Can I please get a kiss? A real one?"

It sounds like a simple request, but it really isn't, and you're scared to overstep a boundary of his and make him mad. You want him oh so desperately to kiss you on the lips, something he never did before with you. It was one of the rules he set. He didn't like the intimacy behind it, but all you can think about from the first time he took you in a bathroom at some frat party is to feel those perfect lips. His lips that have explored every inch of your body other than your own.

"A kiss?" He murmurs, his voice tinged with amusement. He knows how desperate you are for that kind of intimacy, how much you crave it.

He leans closer, his lips hovering just a few inches above yours. It's almost like foreplay, the anticipation building up as you wait for him to make the next move. "You want me to kiss you? Are you sure you've earned it, pet? It'd take a lot to make me kiss you after your behavior earlier... And I don't know if your little performance was enough to warrant a real kiss…”

You desperately want to close the last millimeters of distance between your lips, but you know he would probably kill you if you did it without permission. Instead, you just freeze at his words, a shiver running down your spine, and you can feel yourself starting to tremble in his lap. You're scared, but not of him. You're scared of being denied the only thing you think you ever wanted.

You didn't know what to do. Your brain shuts down while you try to think of something, anything, to convince him to give you that kiss.

Sukuna's hand grasps your chin, firmly holding your gaze. His eyes bore into yours as if to search for something deep within your soul. "Come on, little pet..." He whispers, his voice low and husky. "Show me you deserve it. Show me your obedience... and maybe, just maybe, I'll reward you with a kiss."

His words are a challenge, a test of your devotion and willingness to submit to his will. “Now... What do you want to say to make me change my mind and kiss you? Or perhaps you changed your mind and want something else?”

"No, wait!" You speak up louder than you intended to, the desperate need and distress obvious in the way your tiny fists come up to his chest and grasp at the material of his designer shirt.

"S'kuna, please... Master, please~ I'm sorry. I promise to behave in the future. I promise! I'm sorry. Please~! Just- just…” Your brain frantically tries to come up with something good, something that would impress him and prove your devotion and loyalty in a way you know he needs it.

“I'll… I'll let you do that thing to me! The one you always wanted." As soon as the words leave your mouth, you know there was no going back. Sukuna's eyes are gleaming with excitement already. You would like to blame the remaining effect from the booze at the party for your careless words, but you know that's not it. You have just fallen so hard and fast for the man in front of you, that you lost your mind, your will to be your own person with your own rights and your brain is solely thinking about his twisted forms of pleasure.

Sukuna always wanted to brand his name into your perfect little body, but you desperately refused, making it a hard boundary. One he surprisingly respected without ever pushing you too far, like for everything else. Although it always swirls in the back of his mind whenever he sees your ass jiggle during doggy or your hips buck up while you are sprawled out in his sheets, the only thought when his lips trace your collarbone or his hands grip at the flesh of your waist.

Sukuna's eyes widen in surprise, not expecting you to offer to fulfill his deepest desire. "You... you'd willingly allow me to brand you like that? Even though you were so adamant about refusing in the past?"

He pauses, his eyes searching your face for any signs of deceit or hesitation. But all he finds is raw, desperate need. "Are you absolutely certain, pet? Once it's done, there's no going back. It will be with you for the rest of your life.”

You pause, a slight hesitation when you realize the weight of your words once again and the permanent consequences that come with it. You swallow hard, your gaze locked onto his. You are genuinely scared. Not of him, but of the fact that you might lose him and might lose this moment between you two. Your decision is made, you want to do this. For him, to please him and to get the kiss that you crave so much.

"I know." With your submissive headspace right now, you're definitely not in the right place to make important decisions like this, but you don't care. You need it, desperate to feel his lips brush against yours. Your eyes drop down to his lips, fixed on them like they are the most precious thing in the world.

Sukuna stares at you for a moment, studying your face. And then, a small smirk tugs at the corners of his lips. "Very well... Come here."

His fingers gently stroke your cheek as he leans in closer, his lips brushing against yours in a feather-light touch. He pauses there for a moment, his eyes closing as he relishes in this rare moment of tenderness. "You really are..." He murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. "...mine. Aren't you, pet?"

And then, finally, he kisses you.

The moment his lips touch yours, you can feel your body heating up and your skin tingle. It's as if you are set on fire, a feeling of belonging spreading through every vein and clouding your mind and judgment even more. His thumb still brushes against your cheek, and his teeth sink into your bottom lip, making you gasp. His tongue teasingly darts against your lips, and you open your mouth immediately to grant him the desired access. Both of his hands are cupping your face by now, tilting your head further to deepen the kiss.

Sukuna's tongue immediately invades your mouth, like it's exploring and mapping out every corner. His kiss is intense and possessive, demanding submission and surrender so naturally that it is overwhelming. One of his hands slides down to the nape of your neck, pressing you even closer, his fingers tangled into your hair.

And for a few moments, there's only the heated dance of your tongues and the sound of your shared breathing filling the air.

You don't even try to fight for dominance in the kiss. You don't want it, you don't need it. You don't want to be his equal. You want to be his property. You want to be his and want to be taken care of by him. The kiss is intense but not only in your desire and lust for each other but also in the feelings both of you communicate with it. Something in his demeanor is different now. The more intense the kiss grows, the more tender and loving his touch becomes. It's almost as if he would harbor actual feelings for you.

Sukuna's kisses become more passionate, his mouth moving against yours with a burning need. He whispers against your lips, his voice a husky growl. "Mine..."

His hands begin to roam over your body with a possessive touch. The way he touches you, it's like he's claiming you, making it clear that you belong to him. But his touch, while intense and possessive, lacks its usual roughness and cruelty.

Your own hands start to mimic the motion, sliding under his shirt and feeling the warm, muscled expanse of his abdomen and up to his chest. You can feel the fast beating of his heart against your hand, and your hips start to grind down against him. On any other day, he would have already beaten you up for putting your hands on him without permission but right now his tongue is just continuing to explore every corner of your mouth, tasting and savoring every inch.

A low rumble sounds in the back of his throat, almost like an animalistic growl, as your hands sneak their way under his shirt. He doesn't break the kiss, his tongue continuing to explore your mouth with an almost possessive hunger.

And then, without breaking the kiss, he stands up with you in his arms as his hands grip at your thighs, pulling you close against him. “Bedroom... now..." He growls, the look in his eyes burning with an intense need.

When he picks you up effortlessly, you let out a gasp of surprise against his lips, holding onto him tightly while he continues to devour your mouth like a man starved.

He is always dominant in every interaction, demanding perfection and complete obedience from you and during sex, he always does and takes what he wants without giving you the opportunity to decide something for yourself. You love your usual dynamic, but this feels different. You touched him without permission and initiated this moment but didn't receive punishment. Sukuna is handling you with utmost care and affection, something that you’ve never received from him before.

He walks over to the bed, carrying you in his arms like you're made of glass. He gently lays you down, the covers soft and comfortable.

Sukuna hovers above you, his crimson eyes locking with yours. Without a word, he leans down and kisses you again, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, tender motion. His hand comes up to cup the back of your neck, caressing your skin with a gentleness that's foreign to him.

“What’s happening to me...” He murmurs under his breath, almost like he's trying to understand it himself.

You didn't even hear his quiet murmurs, your ears ringing from the overwhelming feelings inside of you. Your head is spinning, and you can't think clearly, hands tugging at his shirt, wanting it off of him desperately.

"Kuna~" You call out to him and despite his desire for power and your rule of calling him master every time you address him directly, he can't help the rush of arousal in his lower region at the nickname you just gave him.

Sukuna grunts at the nickname you used, his eyes narrowing with a predatory glint. "Impatient, are we?" He taunts.

He sits back in between your thighs and slowly removes his shirt to reveal his toned chest and stomach, covered in intricate tattoos and some scattered scars.

"Don't worry. I'll give you what you need..." He reaches down, pulling you closer by your hips. One hand gently caressing the curve of your thigh and the other sliding under your knee, pushing your legs open.

You hiss slightly when he spreads your legs a little further. The wounds from your earlier punishment are still hurting badly.

Your eyes are trained on his skin, on his tattoos, and the way he moves in the dim moonlight shining through the window. Your bandaged hand wants to reach out for him, but you stop midair, a flicker of uncertainty and fear crossing your eyes, and you're not sure if you're allowed to touch.

Sukuna chuckles, a smug smirk playing on his lips as he looks down at you. "You can touch me without permission... tonight..." He reaches down, fingers gently brushing against your thigh, his touch feather-light with a hint of possessiveness.

Leaning in, he slowly starts to trail kisses along your neck, his tongue lingering for a moment on the pulse point. You can't help but tear up, your lips trembling, and a shaky breath leaves your lips. When he leans down, your hand automatically comes into contact with the bare skin in between his pecs, and you moan out at the warm feeling underneath your fingertips.

His hands slide beneath your back, fingers tracing the zipper of your dress before deciding he's too impatient, and he just rips the flimsy fabric into useless pieces. When he rips off your dress to gain better access to the expanse of your skin, you gasp out, and your other hand is coming behind his neck, gently playing with the strands of his pinkish hair.

Sukuna's lips continue their exploration of your body, leaving a path of hot, wet kisses along your collarbone as he moves down. His teeth nibble at the sensitive skin of your neck before he kisses his way across the collarbone and to your shoulder, where he would usually leave his marks. He gently bites into the sensitive area as if he could sense the significance of this spot. He keeps teasing you, trailing his kisses lower and lower down your chest, his tongue flicking out to taste your heated skin.

Sukuna's hands reach down, fingers wrapping around your ankles and lifting your legs around his waist before he leans back in, his lips capturing yours in an intense kiss. His tongue dances with yours, seeking pleasure as his hips start to grind down against you, his hard length growing to its full size.

"I want this... I want this so much..." He murmurs, his hands grasping your hips possessively, almost to the point of bruising as he nips at your neck. "Need this... need you..." One of his arms wraps around your lower back, supporting and bringing your body even closer to his. His other hand is resting high up on your inner thigh, the skin soft and warm under his hot palms.

"You..." He groans, his voice rough and husky, filled with desire. "I... You're mine."

His hand in between your legs moves slowly to your core, gently parting your folds and settling between them as two fingers start to explore your already wet heat.

You're a mess of moans, gasps, and whimpers. Sukuna knows your body like the back of his hand, knows every sensitive spot, and every way to touch you. You already gave your body and soul to him, but tonight, he gives you a part of himself, something he has never done before. The two of you are completely oblivious to how things might change between you if you continue this passionate night with each other. You both are only focused on the feelings each of you has hidden beneath the surface for a long time, one deeper than the other.

When he starts exploring the inside of your body with his fingers, you can't help but arch your back into him more and more, your hands gripping at the strands of his hair tighter. You're not used to him making sure you're well enough prepared. Foreplay was never one of his strong suits. He didn't deem it necessary for his own pleasure. His gentle and loving touches are sending your senses into overdrive. What is going on? "Sukuna! Master! Please~”

"Shh..." He murmurs against your lips, feeling his words brush against your skin like a gentle melody. He whispers low, almost like he's speaking to himself.

"I promise... I promise I'll go easy on you." He assures, his voice a raspy breath against your skin. He whispers your name like a silent prayer, as if he craves the taste of it on his tongue.

"I'll give you anything you want, anything you need. Just... just don't ever leave..." He looks down at you, his expression intense and dominating, but also vulnerable. There are layers upon layers of pain, suffering, and sadness hidden behind his crimson eyes. It's a glimpse of the broken man behind this facade.

He's a man possessed, a man who has never known love or affection, and is now experiencing these emotions for the first time. He's intoxicated with this new high, the way you make him feel. He savors every second of it, as if he's afraid it could all go away.

With an intense look in his eyes, he leans down, his lips brushing against yours again. He kisses you deeply, passionately. "I want you... I need you... I need to be with you... All I want is you."

He's not used to expressing himself, not used to being so honest with his feelings. He's never felt so vulnerable, so on edge. His thumb grazes your bundle of nerves, intensifying the pleasure. "Relax. Relax and let me take care of you... I'll make sure you feel good, pet... just trust me…”

You nod your head, tears brimming in your eyes. "Trust you. Trust you so much. I'm yours, Sukuna. Always was, always will be..."

Your limbs are clinging to him like he's your lifeline, like he's the savior in the dark, when all he ever did was corrupt and ruin you. He destroyed you, broke you down into pieces, and put you back together with practiced precision to make you his perfect toy, making you depend on him and his touch.

"You are mine, little pet..." He whispers against your skin as if to remind you of your place, his words a low rumble in his chest. "You were... always mine. I want to hear you say my name... say it... Call me that stupid name again."

His hand moves with a natural ease as if he exactly knows what to do to your little body covered by his own like a safety blanket. He doesn't break eye contact, his fingers stroking over your sensitive spot again and again. He takes satisfaction in the way you react to his touch, how your body trembles, and twitches beneath him. He looks down at you, his eyes burning with an intensity that takes your breath away. His fingers continue to move, coaxing you closer and closer to the edge.

He leans down, gently capturing your lower lip between his teeth, biting down on it. "Do you have any idea... how badly I want to just keep you... forever?"

He kisses you deeply, his fingers wrapping gently around your chin, tilting your head back to give him greater access to your lips. "Kuna~ want to come, please. Please, please, please." The nickname he demands is falling from your lips again without much thinking about it.

Your legs start to tremble, still tightly wrapped around his hips, and you're bucking desperately into his touch for more. His lips are on yours again, taking the little breath away, you are able to catch in your lungs. Your hands are gripping onto his shoulders tightly, breaking the kiss with a loud whimper, burying your face in the crook of his neck and biting down gently into his shoulder to keep yourself grounded somehow.

"Shhhh." He murmurs against your skin, his lips gently brushing against your shoulder. "It's okay... just relax... You don't have to beg anymore, pet... I know what you need... let me take care of you." His fingers move again, slowly and carefully, each touch filled with a careful tenderness and patience that you're not used to.

He can feel you close up around his fingers, the tightness making him groan against your skin just thinking about the way your wet cunt usually clings around his cock as he whispers. "I've got you... I've got you... relax.”

And then it happens, your body clenching down onto his fingers, spasming around them as you're falling over the edge into a deep pleasure. It feels different, unlike every other time he brought you to this point of ecstasy. It is hitting you in waves, and it doesn't seem to stop. You let out tiny whimpers, moans, and cries of his name. Your head is thrown back in pleasure, and your eyes roll into the back of your head. "Kuna. Kuna, please. Master Sukuna, I-”

He watches you closely, an intensity filling him as he listens to your pleas, the feel of you clenching around his fingers, the sound of his name leaving your swollen lips. "Just let go... give in... I've got you." He murmurs, his words like a gentle caress, easing your worry and fear as he continues to move his fingers, bringing you right to the edge again.

You can't stop whimpering and moaning, crying out his name when he doesn't stop to move his fingers and brings you over the edge for a second time without giving you time to catch your breath. You can feel the tears running down your cheeks, but today they don't come from the humiliation and shame he usually inflicts on you and not from that delicious pain either but they come from the purest form of pleasure you have ever experienced in your life.

"You're so pretty like this, pet." His voice is low and husky as he speaks, his thumb rubbing against your clit. His fingers continue to move, gently coaxing you through the powerful waves of ecstasy that rock through your body. He slowly withdraws his fingers, slowly bringing them up and teasingly slipping them into his mouth, his tongue swirling around the digits.

"Kuna~" When he withdraws his hand and takes his fingers into his mouth, tasting your release on his tongue, you are the one who lets out a strangled noise of need. Your hands are reaching out to him, desperately clutching onto his pants. "Need more. Want more, please. Need you…”

He looks at you with his eyes filled with an unfamiliar warmth and gentleness. "More?" He asks, his voice husky and low as he watches you squirm and writhe beneath him. “What a little greedy pet I've got... but you've been so good for me... I guess you deserve a little reward, huh?”

He leans down, capturing your mouth in a deep, passionate kiss. Your taste floods his senses, making him moan into the kiss as his fingers start to slip into your tight, wet heat once again.

You can taste yourself on his tongue, mixing with his own intoxicating taste and scent. When he slips his fingers inside again, you arch into him, your chests flush against each other. It was unexpected. You were sure he would take you for his own pleasure, now that you already got your release, but instead, he solely takes care of you once again.

You mewl, oversensitive from your previous two orgasms and as much as you love his touch, you can't help but try to wriggle out of his firm hold. "Kuna~. 's too much. 's too good." You breathe out the words in between kisses.

"Just let yourself feel good, pet. It's what you wanted, right? More?" He murmurs, your quick breath hot against his lips as he continues to kiss you. "I've got you."

His other hand slips under your back, supporting you against him and allowing you to ease yourself into it and keep you from wriggling away. "Tell me what you need... what you want..." He whispers, his voice deep and seductive in your ear.

His fingers continue to work, coaxing you back into that blissful place, your cries and moans growing more desperate as you cling to him. You can feel yourself on the edge again, the coil in your stomach tightening once again. You need him. You need to be connected to him in the most primal way possible.

"Want you. Want to feel you. Not your fingers. Need more. Kuna, please~!"

Your trembling fingers try to fumble with the zipper of his pants. Your legs are still twitching around his hips, your lips quivering from overwhelming pleasure, hands not being able to completely free him from the confines of his clothing because they're shaking too much.

"Need me?" He murmurs in your ear, a playful smile pulling his lips into a smirk as he watches you struggle with the zipper on his pants. "Is that so? Good thing I need you too, princess…” He whispers right in your ear, sending shivers through your body when a nickname so beautiful falls from his lips. His breath is hot against your skin as he continues.

"You just needed to ask..." He purrs, his hands retracting from your burning heat and coming to help you with the zipper.

"Can you please just take me? Like you always do? Need to feel you... Want you deep... Want to be yours..." Your teary eyes are trained on his every move when he slides his fingers out of you and opens up the zipper of his pants, discarding them to the floor.

Your breathing is ragged, coming in short gasps of air, and your eyes are hazy, clouded from lust. Your lips kiss swollen and red from all the intense kisses you shared. Your whole body is aching to be anchored to him.

"So needy..." He murmurs, his voice like velvet in your eardrums. "So eager... Good thing only I can give you exactly what you need..."

His words are a promise, a promise of ownership and possession that sends a shiver down your spine. "I'm not going anywhere... Not without you..." You breathe out the words desperately with tears still running down your cheeks, and you think you might die if he's not immediately sheezing himself inside of you.

His hands come to caress your arms gently at first, his hands moving to grab your hands, intertwining your fingers with each other as he moves atop of you. "I'm here... I'm here. Breathe for me... breathe…”

When you feel him, just the way you wanted to, you let out a gasp. His perfect shape is filling you up completely, so deliciously like it always does. Your eyes go wide at the intrusion before they flutter close in pleasure, and you screw them shut tightly to accommodate. His hands are soothing, still intertwined with yours to reassure you and ground you, and you just breathe through the stretch, like he told you to.

His hands grip yours, holding you tightly as his lips brush against your temple, his voice a gentle rumble in his chest. "Just let yourself feel good. Let me take care of you, princess. I'll take care of everything... You don't have to think about anything. Nothing but this… Just feel me, feel me inside you... I'm right here... Right here... I'm not going anywhere..." He murmurs into your skin, his words a soft, low whisper against your ear.

Again, this is so unlike his usual self. Normally, he takes you how he wants with no regard for your feelings or capability to handle him, but tonight, he lets you adjust, slowly easing you into things before he starts moving. Your body relaxes against his, letting him in and making it easier to move more freely.

"Thank you.." Your voice is so quiet it's barely audible when you whisper those words out in a breath right next to his ear. You don't really know what you're grateful for, for him, for this reward he gifted you, for this moment... All your thoughts circling around him, all your senses finely attuned to him.

"Shhhh... no need to thank me. It's my job to take care of you..." He whispers, his words like a sinful melody as he slowly begins to move his hips, keeping a careful rhythm. "I promised you... I'd make you feel good..." His breath catches as he whispers in your ear, the feeling of you around him almost overwhelming.

He sets a slow and steady rhythm, building up an intense pleasure for the both of you. When he starts to increase the pace, rocking his body against yours and going deeper and deeper, you can feel yourself tightening up around him again, coming close to that blissful edge for another time that night.

"Kuna~? 'm close. Wanna come... Can I come?" Your kiss swollen lips are out in a small pout, your eyes begging him for permission because your mind is conditioned to him, to his orders, to not do anything against his will and you're not sure if you can even come without his permission anymore.

"Shhhhh... You don't have to ask for permission this time... You can come... just let yourself feel good. That's all that matters... And I've got you... I'll make you feel good." He murmurs against your ear, his voice a deep, husky rumble as he whispers reassurance, his words like a soothing balm that takes away all your worries.

He begins to move his hips faster, working you closer to that sweet release as his own pleasure builds.

You free one of your hands from his grip to grasp the bedsheets beneath you, and bury your face in the pillows to muffle your sounds. A few broken cries leave your lips as you start to drool into the sheets when you hit your orgasm. Sukuna's name is spilling from your lips like a mantra, and your legs lose their hold onto his hips, falling open against the mattress.

"That's it... that's my good pet..." His voice is like a melody, smooth and gentle as he encourages you, his words like a reassuring promise. "Just relax... and breathe... I'm right here..."

He slows down, giving you a chance to recover as he leans down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. "You're doing so good... I'm proud of you.” He whispers against your skin, his lips moving down to kiss the pulse point on your neck. "Do you want to stop? Or do you... want to feel even more?”

The thought of him stopping his movements, putting a halt to this moment right now, feels wrong, so wrong. He can't stop. You don't want him to stop. Not before you can feel him spilling his release into you. You need him to fill you up, make you completely his. You're tired and exhausted, but fight through it and lift your legs up, wrapping them around his hips again as a sign to continue.

"Don't stop. No stopping, please. Wanna continue. Wanna make you feel good, too. Need you to finish as well. Please use me, Master Sukuna.”

He looks down at you, his expression tender as he gazes down at you with that warm light shining in his eyes. "You really are my perfect little pet... Aren't you, pretty? Always so eager... so well-behaved..."

He leans down, capturing your lips in a deep, languid kiss, as he begins to move again, his pace slow, his movements tender and intense as he works to push you further towards another sweet release.

His hands come around to slide over the back of your thighs, stopping behind your knees and pushing them up to your chest. The new angle is deepening your connection further and makes you gasp out at the stretch. Again, you try to wriggle beneath him, not sure if you want to escape or buck into him for more. You look up at him through half lidded, teary eyes, and your whole body is moving along the mattress with each movement. Your hands hold onto his biceps, pressing your breasts together for a nice view and your nails dig into his skin.

"Are you... Are you close? I can't do this any longer... Feels too good... 's too much."

"Almost...... Almost there...... almost there." You can hear the hint of strain in his voice as he pushes his climax to the very edge. "Just a little longer... just keep on going...... Keep on going..." His movements become more intense and erratic as his climax nears. His arms press your legs even further into your chest, putting you into the meanest mating press, as he leans down to kiss you again.

When he leans down, you almost can't breathe with the way his body is crushing you, and your legs are pushed back beyond comfortable. By now, he is basically just grinding into you. The feeling so intimate it makes your head spin.

"Can't hold any longer, Kuna... Can I please come? Need release... Please~?" Your bodies are pressed together, your chest flush against his, and you swear you can feel his racing heartbeat matching the rhythm of your own. Your eyes are filled with tears, and your nails dig into his arms so tightly they almost draw blood.

"Come for me... come for me now... that's an order." He commands breathlessly, his eyes locked with yours. His voice sends shivers down your spine and a rush of pleasure through your body. "Come... now..." He whispers, and you can feel his words like a caress against your skin.

You don't even have a choice. Through the past months of pleasurable torture, he broke your whole body and soul, now trained to follow his every command. When the order leaves his mouth, you fall over the edge into ecstasy.

You come around him, hard, your release triggering his own, and his pace becomes erratic, almost animalistic. You can feel him filling you up to the brim, making you feel full and satisfied, your belly swelling up with how much he releases. As your bodies continue to move together, he captures your lips in a deep, passionate kiss.

"Kuna~. Sukuna. Kuna, please~." You mewl his name into his mouth, again and again, completely lost in the feeling and the way your body twitches and spasms around him. "Love you. Love you so much, Master Sukuna.”

His arms wrap around your body tightly, pulling you even closer as your back arches off the mattress. "That's it... you're doing so... good..." He whispers into your skin, his voice tinged with pleasure and something else... affection, maybe?

After you two ride out the waves of pleasure, his body relaxes against yours, and your muscles go limp as the pleasure recedes. The only thing left is the aftermath of the pleasure and a deep contentedness. Your brain feels mushy, your ears ringing, and you can barely keep your eyes open. You're still twitching slightly, and your breathing is far from calming down after the intensity of the past hours. No coherent thought is left and he can see in your eyes, that he did a thorough job in fully satisfying you and leaving you fucked dumb. Your lips are slightly parted and drool starts to escape the corners of your mouth.

"There's that look... that look I love so much..." He murmurs into your ear, his voice husky and raw from his own pleasure. "So cute... so perfect... my pet... my beautiful princess..."

His hands move lower down your body, his fingers tracing over the curves of your hips and the soft swell of your stomach until he rests them there, as if staking his claim.

"Mine..." He whispers possessively.

He rests his hand on your abdomen for a few seconds, making you close your eyes at the feeling of his warm, sweaty palm against your skin. But then he starts pressing onto it, a gasp escaping your lips when his seed gushes out of you and down between your ass cheeks to pool onto the sheets. You're barely conscious now. The exhaustion is starting to take over, but you try to power through it. You know he wouldn't like you falling asleep right now, and you wanted to make him feel just as happy and satisfied as you are right now.

"What a mess you've made..." He murmurs, his eyes dark and possessive, his hands slowly trailing down your body to rest gently over your thighs as you cling to him. "That's a good look on you... I should keep you like this..."

He leans down, pressing his lips to your throat in a gentle gesture of affection. "My good, perfect little princess..." He whispers into your skin, his voice a deep, melodic purr that sends shivers down your spine.

His fingers travel along the skin of your thighs before carefully coming in between and shoving his seed, which's been leaking out, back into you, making you mewl out in overstimulation. Your hand wants to come up to his wrist to stop his actions but you think better of it at the last second because it's still drilled in, that you're not allowed to touch him without permission. Your eyes roll into the back of your head, your face turning sideways to cry out into the pillows, and your hips are trying to buck away from his touch on instinct.

When you begin to protest, his grip on you grows firmer, the possessive tone in his voice deepening as he whispers into your ear. "Don't even think about it, pet. This is my mess, my claim to make... and you will accept what I give you.”

He murmurs a mix of praising words and your name possessively, his words sending shivers down your spine. "I'll make sure of that. I'll make sure you don't have any doubt about who you belong to.”

Your eyes are tearing up at his words. You don't want to take more. You don't know if you're able to take more, but your head is automatically nodding at his command, and his fingers pick up their pace again. You would never deny him anything. You couldn't even if you wanted to.

Usually, there rings a hint of anxiety with it, afraid of the consequences of not following his orders, but right now, after everything that happened tonight, you just want to be a good girl for him. You want him to do everything he wants to you, no matter what it is. At this moment, you think you would die for him. You would actually let him kill you. Just for him to be proud of you.

He can see the internal struggle in your expression, the way your body responds to his words. "Good... good... just let yourself feel good,... just feel me..." His voice is a soothing, deep rumble as he whispers into your skin, his words like a gentle breeze on a hot summer day. "No more thoughts. Just focus on this. On us."

His hands move with practiced precision, coaxing you toward that sweet, sweet release. His touches are gentle but insistent, like the touch of a lover instead of the rough, demanding touch you've come to expect.

You don't know for how long he kept going that night. He made you come multiple times on his fingers and on his dick. His release is gushing out of you and causing a white, creamy ring to form around his length while he takes you from one blissful high to the next. He's stuffing his seed back into you multiple times, making you taste yourself and him, making you tremble and cry and beg until the sheets are messy and soaked in both of your cum.

You tap out multiple times, the pleasure of his gentle caresses, the pain of overstimulation, and the exhaustion after a long day become too much before somewhere in the middle you lose consciousness. That didn't stop him from keeping going, taking everything he wants from you even when you're not conscious anymore to feel it. He needs it. He needs you, and just for tonight, he will relish and embrace this new feeling inside his chest.

[justarkive]

MAGIC pt II | jeon jungkook

pairing: jungkook x f! reader

genre: smut , angst 18+!!

warnings: nudity, cheating, swearing, manipulation ¿

smut warnings: dry humping, nipple play, unprotected sex (dont.), kissing, fucking sideways, choking, pls lmk if i missed any!

read part 1: MAGIC / JEON JUNGKOOK

masterlist

a/n: final partt!! i actually hate this so much but i wanted to get this ending off of my mind, not proofread so ignore mistakes! tysm 4 reading ^^

This morning, Jungkook messages you asking if you’re free tonight. However, your clockwork routine of answering “yes” everytime is disrupted when you decide for once, to leave him on delivered. He spams your phone, begging to talk but this time, you’ve really had it with him.

You think, perhaps talking may be a good idea, but knowing yourself, you’ll end up tangled together again or worse, alone like last night.

Its nearing 9pm again when you realise that Jung-kook has stopped bothering you, you can’t help but stare at the endless streams of messages using all of your strength to not reply to him, and god knows how, you don’t.

Is this seriously the end of you and him?

A knock at your door tells you otherwise.

Your heart drops. If it was possible, it’d fall out of your ass from the sheer anger you felt. How does he have the audacity to show up here after being ignored all day, and the shit he pulled last night?

A few minutes have passed, you’ve long forgotten the show playing on your computer on your lap since the sounds of his knocking have blocked out everything else. You’ve felt emotional the whole day, and you know opening the door and seeing his face knowing that he’ll be giving you that look which makes you give in every single time nearly brings tears out of your eyes out of pure frustration.

You’re selfish and weak. And because of it, you’ll open the door, and let him in.

His worried eyes bore into yours and cold hands ,which must mean he’d been out there for a while, hold your face in place, grounding you as much as it makes your heart fucking pound out of your chest. You hate yourself for loving him, when you know that he could never love you back.

“Im so fucking sorry.” His head rests against your forehead, and the brush of his lips against your cheek as he speaks is enough to have you breaking into sobs. Nimble fingers clutch his baggy tee into fists, and you stand there, crying into his neck and he’s cradling your head and stroking your back like you’re a fucking dog and you hate it.

The tears eventually stop, and he’s sitting on your bed and your legs are thrown across his. He seems immersed in the episode you have playing on the TV, but you sit there, eyes blurring everything in your vision but him. These moments make you forget that you and him will never work, that the place he calls home isn’t your shitty student flat, that you and him aren’t something he so desperately hides in the darkness of the night. And when he turns his head and giggles when he catches you staring, you swear your heart is swelling out of your chest.

He’s effortlessly pulling you on top of him, hands finding your waist so easily. “I hope you know im really sorry about last night,”

You say nothing, tucking the loose strand of hair hanging in front of his face behind his ear, dwelling in the illusion of being his. “Eunb-“

You dont even let him finish the word, clashing your lips on his and his hands move from your waist to your face. You’re desperate, licking into his mouth and smirking when you feel him being unable to catch up. Needy bites and licks are reciprocated when your hand tangles in his hair and your pushing him into your face harder.

“__.-“

“Take your pants off.” You order against his lips, his eyebrows cock up at your sudden change of tone and he swears he could die from the way you peel your shirt off and squeeze your tits in his face. Quickly realizing that its not possible for him to remove anything with you on top, you stand up and kneel next to him, helping him remove his sweats.

His tip is already peeking out of his boxers, leaking precum all over his lower stomach and the sight had you clenching over nothing. He’s staring at you, the pressure of his gaze making you move closer however it doesn’t show on your face, and he’s confused.

Until your legs straddle his waist and you’re grinding on his hard, hot cock. You will yourself to not moan when his head gets thrown back and the expanse of his bare neck calls you to leave marks.

At this point you don’t give a fuck about a Eunbi.

“You’re so wet for me, shit baby.” His hands come up to your breasts, the tips of his thumbs rubbing your nipples and combined with the feeling of his cock grinding against your clit has your back arching and frantically grinding against him quicker.

“Kook- fuck.” Your grinding against his cock in circles now, ignoring how the friction of his wet boxers slightly burns since the pleasure is far too overpowering and he’s encouraging you by sitting up and kissing your neck. He finds that his fingers physically cant stay away from your hardened nubs and it has you screaming into his mouth when you come.

He’s impatient, moving you off of him and laying you to the side, frantically pulling off his boxers and shuffling behind you. The moment his impossibly hard cock touches your folds has your stomach doing leaps and he moans so hard once he’s finally inside that he cant help but rub your little clit from side to side.

“Always so fucking good, you’re so good to me baby. Fuck-“ His hips stutter when you clench around him. “You ever gonna let me cum in this pussy? Hm? Want me to fill you up till you can barely walk without it leaking out?”

He’s so fucking gross. And you love it.

“Y-yes fuck, cum inside me kook.” Your moving your head back, desperately searching from his lips to distract yourself from everything wrong with what he was about to do, and when you find his lips you kiss them. Not frantically, a deep, sensual kiss.

And when his hand wraps around your neck, and his fingers rub faster than ever on your clit, your whimpering as you cum around his dick. Hes swearing, feeling you up, squeezing whatever he can to keep his own composure when he fills you with his magic, ropes of cum coming out of his cock bursting out of your pussy. And you both sit there, saying nothing, just staring into each other’s eyes while his cock grows soft inside of you.

It’s been a few minutes, and the icky feeling begins to take over, Your leg is thrown over his middle while your head rests against his chest. You both still haven’t said anything, and for some reason something tells you that this’ll be the last time Jeon Jungkook will be in your bed.

He cleans you in the shower, awfully gently as if he’d break you and you hide your tears in the water streaming on your face because you truly believe, that you’d been broken by him a long time ago.

You’re not sure what’s more suffocating: The steam of the shower trapped in the bathroom whilst Jungkook dries you off, or the feeling of his hands on your bare skin in such a non-sexual manner. However you know deep down, it’s the latter.

He’s lying you down in bed, getting into the covers next to you. You’re far too burnt out to care about Eunbi, or whether he’s leaving like he always does, and your drifting off with your face smushed into his chest and your legs tangled with his.

When you wake up, Jungkook is still sleeping in next to you. You know you should wake him up, considering his phone is blowing up with texts from you know who, but you’re a selfish woman.

That day Jung-kook wakes up alone in your apartment, with Eunbi waiting for him at the door, and all ways of contacting you removed from his phone.

[tkdbimagines]

Hey so... Me Again lol (which one? You'll never know). I had to come back to your inbox since I enjoy reading your stuff A LOT! and I had a thought. Cockwarming... Who enjoys it, who can stay like this for hours, who can't and instead ends in boomshakala with, ect? Or just with one ghoul of your choice as a little os. Go wild. Go creative. I just love your stuff

A/N: alright yeah i can work with this, lets see what we got here

Cockwarming Headcanons

Stays For Hours

Jin: I'm a lil torn here actually but I think he'd definitely use it as some sort of punishment at the very least, and if that's the case he's got all the patience in the world. He'll probably snap at some point but he's making damn sure you do first and he'll still make you wait after.

Tohma: Probably the best at it honestly, he's nothing if not a patient man AND he likes annoying you and causing you problems. He just likes seeing your frustrated face and lil sounds and it just makes him want to make you wait even longer :c.

Alan: He's got better patience than I think even he will give himself credit for, honestly. Though, I think he's mostly in it for the intimacy's aspect, not the sexual one. He just likes how close you feel because of it. That being said, if you start squirming around and teasing him, I cannot guarantee your safety.

Sho: Oh he's a bastard sometimes, he'll do it just to tease you. This is a source of amusement for him, he thinks its hilarious seeing how worked up you're getting just by him being inside you. Don't think whining or complaining will help it just finds it even better. He'll give in at some point, but it'll be a while.

Ren: Honestly put a game in front of him he might even forget he's inside you to begin with. It's probably some sort of cute bonding activity except for the you know. cockwarming aspect but it's fine. However he is one you can easily goad into fucking you if you move around a bit so have fun!

Ritsu: I feel like he'd just check out and start thinking about the cases he's working on JHGHJKJHJK. Like he's a lil insane like that but it helps keep him calm and patient which is good because otherwise you might be driving him insane, it's so fine. Probably another one you can goad by moving around just not as easily.

Subaru: Sweet sweet boy just likes feeling close to you, this is definitely 1000% just for the intimacy aspect he's not trying to tease you or anything he just likes feeling you :c. That being said he will never deny you anything so if you want him to do something he will but if not he's perfectly content staying like this for as long as possible!

Haku: Kinda similar to Tohma and Sho here, he's definitely doing this because he likes teasing you KJHGHJKLKJHG. He'd be the type to whisper filthy shit in your ear too while running his hands across your body to really rile you up while he was at it. He's a lil insane sorry to say but don't worry even he has his limits KJHGHJKJH.

Ed: This annoying ass vampire pretends he's too old to move. You know he's not, he knows you know he's not, but he's just like this he's irritating. That being said he'll also hold you in place so you can't move, wrapping his arms around you because 'you feel so nice he doesn't want to let go'. He will not let you win and is probably the one most likely to go literal hours godspeed.

Rui: I'm a lil torn on him too because I'm not sure how much he's really doing this to begin with, but I think he could if you wanted him to. Living with Ed gives you a lot of patience after all but the second you want more he's all for it so he's really just going by whatever you want.

Jiro: I mean, are we really surprised by this? He's so chill about everything so naturally he'd probably have an insane about of patience regarding this as well. And if he gets to enjoy seeing you squirm and let out little noises because of him, well, that's just a bonus c:.

Gives In

Luca: I think he would give it an honest try. I think like Rui he wants to do whatever it is you want him to, and if it's cockwarming, well he might not quite get it but anything for you! However, the feeling of you wrapped around him is so... He apologizes but quickly asks if he can move pretty soon after, though he does last a little bit at least!

Kaito: Alright we all knew he was going here, I'm not sure he'd last even a minute before having to move. He'd want to give it a genuine try, he would, but well. You probably both knew how this was gonna end when you asked him it's fine. It's worth it in the end anyway you both get to enjoy it <3.

Leo: Okay much like Sho, he's a bastard, even more so actually. However, he also doesn't have a lot of patience. So what I think he does, is he talks big, acting like he's not gonna move for hours or that he'll edge you for just as long, but in reality he does just enough to drive you insane so that you'll beg for him to move and it'll look more like he's giving you what you want rather than him giving in.

Haru: Don't do this to him, he's already stressed out as it is. Plus, he's got so much energy I don't think he could sit still long enough for it if he tried. If you do try to do this expect him to try to work you up even more, to convince him to let him move that way he can make both of you feel good :c.

Towa: I don't think this is Towa's thing honestly. Maybe as a more relaxing thing than anything else but I don't think he gets anything out of it. He much rather prefers moving inside you or maybe you moving on him, the specifics don't really matter much just anything other than staying still.

Romeo: Ha. Another one to talk big only this time he actually tries to follow through but can't. It's not his fault you feel so good clenching around him! He'll blame you for him not being about to last without moving, thrusting into you roughly while complaining about how insane you drive him.

Zenji: I think he's like Kaito, he'd want to try it for your sake but in reality, he just can't do it. He'd apologize like a thousand times for not being able to give you what you want but well, it's not like you're mad at this outcome either. He'll more than make up for it with multiple rounds as well so ! Alls well that ends well.

Lyca: Oh, poor boy does not get what the appeal is. He'll tell you straight up too when you ask him, he does not see what's so great about it. Once he tries it he gets it even less, why would he torture himself like this when you feel so good and he could be moving right now to make you feel good too? Yeah the frustration takes over on this one but it's so fine.

Yuri: Romeo part two, he talks so big and acts so tough but like. He's giving in we all know he's giving in. Once again he's very frustrated with not being able to live up to what he was saying, but well. Now you get to make up for it since you've wasted his time he could've spent researching for this nonsense. Either way do you really lose?

Weird Taiga Category

Taiga: It largely depends on how Taiga's feeling at that exact moment. Sometimes he won't bother with it at all and just starts thrusting rapidly the second he's inside you. Other times, he's got you close to tears before he even so much as moves a single inch, laughing at how pathetic you sound. You really do never know what you're gonna get with him which is why he had to be in his own category.

[cheralith]

character ; shidou ryusei || wc ; 690 a/n ; just something i conjured during my lunch break, sorry for any errors!

it wasn't uncommon for artist!shidou to sometimes use you as a reference whenever he was conjuring his latest piece, often finding ease in working with your body than others. you're a long-term friend of his that has seen his creations even before he gained a spotlight from art curators all over the nation and you've seen how his creativity has exponentially flourished through the years. he had gone from a starving artist to being showcased in acclaimed museums and art exhibits in just a few years time and you couldn't be more proud of him.

he likes to use you as a real-life dummy, telling you to come over to his studio so position your body as he pleases. sometimes you'd get stiff and he'd yell at you, frustrated, but you'd turn your nose up and tell him to behave or else you'll leave. that usually puts him back into his place.

he's built his reputation for being rather... eccentric... when he's not calmly creating, so you suppose it just helps his persona image to gain more attention from the public. you blame it on the one showcasing where he was extremely upset that his manager insisted he displayed a certain sculpture he wasn't content with, and ended up completely destroying it amidst the showcase in front of hundreds of people to prove a point.

"here's to the shitheads that think they know art better than the artists themselves," he had heaved, a smirk being thrown at the camera that was showcasing the entire thing live. "i decide what is art. not you."

he's been drawing blanks for awhile now and calls you to come over to his studio after work and you see him preparing a large slab of clay.

"sit," he says, not looking back at you and juts his head to a nearby stool.

"what sort of pose do you need me to do this time?" you ask with a sigh, heaving your workbag down and preparing your limbs to position themselves into whatever awkward position shidou wants.

"nah, nothing of that sort," he shakes his head, "you just gotta sit there and look pretty, doll."

"huh?" you're flabbergasted. you might actually leave the studio without a weird pain in your arms for the first time.

"i'm practicing realism," he says simply. "obviously can't use a flat picture, can't get all the right shadows and angles. so i need a 3d reference."

it struck you as odd shidou was known for his absurd, abstract pieces that seem to defy all the lines that contemporary art has ironically restricted upon itself. his pieces were nothing less of eye-catching, his sculptures often being made out of whatever material shidou could get his hands on, his paintings lively with color and shapes and texture.

but you don't question it any further and sit yourself down in front of him. he goes to touch your face a few times to just analyze its angles and highlights, but the closeness of him making heat rise on your face. he gets to work eventually, starting with your head. and he asks you to come to his studio for a solid week or so, just simply working on nothing else except creating an insanely realistic replica of your face from the slab of clay. you've never seen him so concentrated before on an art piece.

on the last day, where the final touchups have been sealed, you bid him goodbye in the late evening, as he's just cleaning up some minor details. just before you enter your car, however, you groan and realize you had forgotten your phone in his studio and trail back into the building.

when you approach door, however, you peer silently inside just to make sure he's in there and he is.

but he's still, staring at the sculpture at your calm face rather quietly... intently. you open your mouth to say something to alert him you were here to pick up your phone, but words falter when shidou cups your sculpture's face and places his lips on the sculpture's own pair, cold clay lips meeting the warmth of his.

[mandy-asimp]

When She Calls

Lilia Calderu x Life!reader (she/her)

Warnings: language, deaths, sprinkles of angst, fluff, smut (but that's for waaay down the build up), whole lotta friendship, I'm like 87% sure that's it

Summary: when Life is asked to make a promise, she doesn't seem to be able to say no. But that promise was going to be served out so much longer than what she could see.

Chapter 1

Story masterlist

chapter 2

Lilia was lost in her own thoughts. The regret of just leaving her cat like that, her familiar, it was gnawing at her. Thoughts of what could go wrong clashing with what will go wrong. Even as she stood behind the coven and stared out to the house in the sand. Her ears tuning out whatever Agatha was saying as a faint meow emitted from behind her. 

Her head whipped around, swearing she would see her fuzzy friend right near her feet. Calming all her nerves of something actually has happened. “Lilia? Are you coming?” Alice softly spoke, her eyes looking back into the Road trying to figure out what the other was seeing.

She didn't answer right away, “Yeah…yes.” 

~

Life, as a white cat once more,  waited in the tree right above the exit. Watching as each one slid down the ground and onto the other. All crowding over the lost member. Her heart felt heavy to see the woman’s soul stand and stare down at herself. She was shouting for them to see her, but deep down she knew that it was no use. Even as her sad blue eyes glanced up to the trees, she could feel a warmth consuming her transparent self. There she saw the white subtle glow and her brows furrowed. 

“Is this it?” Her voice was weak as she spoke to the cat. Only to watch as she bowed her head in apologies. “What happens now?” But the cat didn’t answer. Instead they both watched as the ‘coven’ started preparing a burial for the lost member.

There was nothing more to be done on Life’s part. All she could do was wait for the inevitable to occur. The moment that Death would appear to make her claim, and she knew the counterpart would stick around. To attempt her hand with her former lover just once more now that she couldn't go far. Life knew that she’d be pulled right along to appear. Tied right back together. Yet, all she could hope was to stay in cat form just a little longer. To hide herself just for a few more moments.

Then suddenly, from the branches she resided on, she was falling through the air. Seeing above the entire Road and its mysterious glory, down to the dirt road that was soon to be under her paws. Her paws, she was still in cat form thankfully. As she kept falling, she could hear the screams from the coven begin to fade in. “How did you get here?!” Agatha’s yell echoed into the sky.

“I was in the neighborhood!” Rio had this twisted grin as she crept forward. Skipping in her step to hand over a leaf from her hand. “M’ lady!” 

Except all attention from her dropped when the cat did as well. She made a perfect landing and just sat while looking amongst the witches. “Dolcezza?” Lilia whispered, watching the cat yawn and flash her sharpest teeth. 

“Lilia, your cat followed you to the Road?” The young boy furrowed his brows, making a clicking noise as he crouched. 

Rio smirked though, she knew exactly who that cat was. She walked over and picked up the ball of white and held her at arm's length, her dirt covered hands ruining her perfect coat.. “This is where you’ve been hiding? As a cat? A familiar?” Her smirk was mocking. Her espresso iris shimmered with anticipation to tell the truth. “You do know who your cat really is right?”

“Meow!” She protested with a bite to her hand. Being dropped instantly to the ground and hopping back to Lilia’s side. Brushing herself all against her legs, glaring at the green witch in warning.

Agatha instantly knew her theory was correct. Life and Death were connected hand in hand. Of course Rio would be able to tell off the bat. That was her lighter half. The brunette, glancing between the both, gave another frustrated groan before storming off. Teen followed right behind and called after her. Leaving the other four to awkwardly stare at Rio. 

“Sup..I’m Rio!” She took in the setting she had now found herself in. “So what, we're just supposed to walk this thing?” Her eyes were looking towards the way Agatha and the boy had gone. Her answer was a collection of confirmations before she went whistling down the way. 

“What a scary bitch.” Lilia hummed her opinion. Eyes falling to the cat at her feet. “How did you get here?” She scooped Life up and cradled her into her arms, noting the way the paws had wrapped around her arm almost in a relieved way. Lilia knew that leaving her familiar wasn’t the right choice, that she needed her for this just as much as anything else. And it was like the feeling was reciprocated from the feline.

Alice came closer, putting out a hand to pet the soft fur. “What did Rio mean by who this is?” She held a soft tone while awing over the precious creature. The oldest only shrugged and wondered the same thing. 

“Meow..” Life pushed her head further into Alice’s hand and purred slightly. 

~

They stood at the next trial's door and the weight of it all was settling on Alice. Especially as she stared at the wooden cabin with the moon on the door representing the fire stage. “Nope. Not doing it.” She quickly turned to go the other way. Everyone was stunned at the reaction just before chasing after the protection witch. 

“Alice!” Agatha led closest behind her. Her hands clasped together the entire time. “What's the plan Alice?” 

Her red tips shook with her head, “I dunno, but it's anything but that.” She kept moving backwards. It was all too close for her to face. Her biggest nightmare was not something she was ready for. Not after seeing how close Jen’s had put them to death.

“Yes, it's horrible, I agree..” her eyes caught a glimpse of the new cabin. “But I think the road disagrees.” She drew the focus right to the trial and shrugged. Hands up as she only saw one way, which was through the cabin.

Rio, eager to know, pointed to the cat. “What about her?” It was teasing. “Are we really bringing the cat into this? What if something is revealed?”

“What are you trying to imply?” Lilia bit back, holding her familiar tighter just slightly and eyes narrowing greatly. “I’m not leaving her out for the Road to get her. What type of witch would I be leaving my familiar?”

Rio chuckled, finger raising and pointing right at Life. Seeing her exactly for who she was. “That is no familiar, but let’s see if The Road accepts this cat form.”

The old witch stood with Alice in silence, her brows furrowing. Letting her enter before setting the cat down and questioning her for a moment. “She’s just a cat, right?” Alice raised as she tilted her head.

Life gazed heavily onto Lilia, losing herself into her brown eyes and meowing a few times over. “I have no idea.” The words came tumbling out from the woman. “She looks like a cat. Sounds like a cat.”

“No reason not to believe she's not a cat.” Jen finished as she passed into the trial. Taking a deep breath before entering. The two shared one last look before agreeing silently to go in together. Life trailing a few steps behind, her only thought was to stay a cat.

But, life wasn't fair for Life herself even. The Road finally counted her into the reality of it and her powers were rendered useless. Meaning she stood at the doorway with her eyes closed as she already knew. She already knew she was exposed for who she was. 

Life stood furthest away in a simple getup. The white boho pants hung low and gracefully fell down her legs. Covering the white boots that added to her height just slightly. The top matched, only it was tied between her breast and revealing her iridescent skin that shimmered in every light and step. The bell sleeves were the most dramatic as they hung at her sides. The blonde curls had been swapped out for long blonde waves that cascaded down her back.

“Welcome to the party!” Rio had her gaze locked to the other by the door. Her cocky smirk of being right was taunting. “It’s nice to see you eye-to-eye.”

The blonde could only stand perfectly in place. Inspecting each reaction to her true self and trying to figure out where to go from here. “It’s not to see you.” She spoke with quiet venom. The gray eyes were sharp and full of emotions as she still had yet to move. 

“Oh! Kitten! Don't act so cold to see us, you came here all on your own. I saw you sneak in while we were opening the door. You knew what you were getting into!” Agatha came from checking herself out, eyes now glued to the counterpart from a distance. “I knew those eyes were too purposeful for a cat.”

The other four were mildly confused. “I’m sorry, can someone explain who she is or are we going to stay uninformed?” Jen had waved her hand in the air, speaking on everyone's behalf. “First we get Rio’s crazy ass and now Lilia’s cat..isn’t a cat? Along with Agatha knowing both of them? Does nobody else see how she could easily be a part of the deeper intentions?”

“I can assure you, on everything that makes me up, I am not with her.” A sharp white acrylic was pointed at the purple witch. “I would rather be stripped of everything before I worked alongside her.”

“That’s so harsh, kitty. You know I have no deeper meaning but to get my power back. And besides, you’re too much of a goody-two-shoes for my line.” Agatha scoffed. Her icy blue eyes bored over. Her mind worked to figure out how much of a loop hole she was now granted with. She was going to make it off this road with or without anyone, and Life herself was going to help. This might work out better than she anticipated.

Rio was the first to step closer to her though, knowing she was the only one who would stand any real chance against Life. “So..care to explain?” She beamed sinisterly as she stepped over. Giving the perfect view to the ‘coven’ that awaited answers.

“You know you’re a part of that explanation right?” Life raised a challenging look to Rio first, and when there was no reaction…her gray gaze snapped to Agatha. 

“No. Let's keep moving on. I don't want to be here forever, no wonder how good I look here.” The brunette shook her free waves and set her path to the sound booth. Her lover, if that's what you could call their strangled relationship, Rio went right after her. 

Life still stood by the door, accepting the questioning stares before everyone went off to search for a clue. It felt cold, Lilia’s stare. For the first time she was staring at the eyes that she used to know as a cat. It was a swarm of hurt, confusion, and most of all..unfamiliarity. Life was a stranger to Lilia all over again, yet this time there was no harmony of meows to be her answers. No, this time she would have to speak if she wanted to continue her promise. 

~

Chapter 3.

[moonzzip]

my song for you | prologue

a/n — I decided to make this mini-series in celebration of g-d's new album (and due to the lack of new stories these days), I've been busy and that's why I haven't been releasing any more stories, but I hope you like this one, I'll release the next chapter soon!

summary: your passion for music has always been something that kept you grounded, but soon you found yourself lost. your friend gets you into trouble, and you wonder if your wounds will ever heal.

pairing: jiyong x pianist!gn!reader

!warnings: mention of toxic family, bruises, blood, fainting

lowercase letters, w.c: 2,1k

nothing. nothing comes to your mind, nothing.

you play, play, and play the keys, but nothing forms.

the sound is empty, the melody is empty, the notes are empty, everything, absolutely everything is empty.

none of the forms give you feeling, never satisfied with what you're doing.

everything is bad, everything sounds bad, you don't feel like you're doing it right, nothing seems right.

your hands tremble, your fists want to clench, false notes, off-key sounds, your finger clicked the wrong key, your foot stepped wrong, you missed by a millisecond, you played two at the same time, you played none.

and you stop.

your breath is tired, frustrated, disgusted, agonized. your soul feels broken and empty, lonely.

that song that once made you happy no longer fills you.

you've been playing the piano for as long as you can remember. your family is a great pianist family, so you always had this obligation to know how to play. everyone in the family was considered a prodigy.

but not you.

you were slower compared to your cousins, took longer to understand compared to your aunts when they were children, didn't have the motor coordination of your mother or the speed of your father.

you were incomplete.

the scars on the top of your hand say it all, every little scratch, purple mark, dripping blood, silenced scream, cry, and sweat.

even so, you never felt anger toward them, your family.

much less hatred for the piano.

it was an object, it wasn’t its fault.

it wasn’t the piano that made your blood run, it wasn’t the piano that made your tears fall.

you used the piano as an escape, despite it having brought you misery.

anger rises to your head, your fists finally clench completely and begin to strike the instrument fiercely, horrible sounds coming out due to the aggression on the black and white keys, your screams scratch your throat, your body sore and tired, your mind full, yet empty at the same time, too messy, your already dried tears no longer fall.

you continue the attack for a while, until exhaustion almost wins.

you bite your lips so hard they bleed, your head tilts back, the blood running down your lips, your vision blurs, and your body falls back, staring at the ceiling as you let out a sigh, and everything goes dark.

your feet walk along the crowded sidewalk, your hands in furry, warm gloves, looking at your feet but still seeing ahead to avoid bumping into someone.

you stop at the edge of the sidewalk, now looking up, the cars passing at high speed, countless people on the other side and beside you. you sigh, hiding your face in your warm scarf, your eyes catching the large sign meters away from you: ‘galaxy corporation,’ and you sigh again.

what was your friend thinking? he called you out of nowhere, saying he needed you to come to the company where he works because it was urgent. what the hell could be so urgent that he needed your help? nothing comes to mind. your day had been going so well, you had slept reasonably well, and it was cold enough to stay under the blankets for as long as you wanted. just thinking about it makes you yawn, stretching your back, hearing a small crack, and adjusting your clothes, brushing off invisible dust.

well, here goes nothing.

the door opens automatically, the warm air hitting your face. you breathe in satisfaction and step inside—it’s well-lit and spacious—the door closes behind you. you take off your scarf and store it in your bag. there aren't many people, a small group and some scattered around, but nothing beyond that.

you wonder if your friend is waiting for you down here. you look around but decide to go to the reception.

“ah... excuse me?” the receptionist looks up and gives you a small but still gentle smile.

“hello! how can I help you?”

you try to return the smile, but it feels awkward, so you continue, “mr. kim jonghoon called me and asked me to come. could you check if he’s here?”

you could just call him, but this isn’t the first time jonghoon has called you out of nowhere saying he has something important to say, only to disappear when you try to call back. you’re not in the mood to waste your phone credits on him.

“ah! kim jonghoon-ssi? just a moment.”

you watch her pick up the fancy black phone and dial some numbers. it rings, and jonghoon answers almost instantly.

that bastard. he knew you wouldn’t come if he kept answering and responding to your questions. this man is getting too clever for your liking. you roll your eyes internally.

the receptionist is smiling like an idiot on the phone. jonghoon has a habit of flirting with people, but he could do that another time.

the sound of the phone being placed back on the receiver pulls you from your thoughts.

“he is in the building, yes. he’ll be here soon, please wait patiently.”

it’s not like you have anywhere else to go.

you look around and see an empty armchair nearby. it looks comfortable, so you sit down. you wonder if he’ll take long, then pull out your phone, looking for something to do.

ah... you should have downloaded some games.

would it be rude to put on your headphones? you think about it but take them out anyway, connecting them via bluetooth. you scroll through your spotify, maybe something by bigbang? lots of options, your finger hovers over a few, clicks one, skips, until you find one.

‘my heaven’ appears on your screen. ah... this song is so good. you remember watching the m/v when you were younger. you used to follow the group more closely. they were your inspiration to play that... thing. after a while, you just gave up on music altogether.

you sigh, looking at your hands, the scars hidden beneath the gloves, running from your elbows to your fingertips.

hours and hours, endlessly playing that thing, until your nails broke and your fingers formed calluses, or until you passed out. most times, that’s how it went.that leather whip was used on your delicate little hands, mercilessly, without pause.

you had always been a well-behaved child, never complained, never gave a reason for such methods to be used, but apparently, your difficulty in learning was reason enough.

always put down, always compared to everyone in your family—

"your aunt learned this in three days."

"your sister wouldn’t make a mistake like that."

"you never get this right on the first try. useless."

things like that.jonghoon only knows the surface. you never had the courage to give him many details, and you don’t plan to.

he understands. he never crosses that line, and that’s it.

you played so much, so much, participated in so many projects nonstop, took courses, tests, competitions, but never received a 'congratulations', never an applause. it was as if you were performing for no one.

but you never complained. as long as you liked playing, nothing could affect you.

until it did.

your thoughts are once again interrupted by a light kick to your shoe. it’s jonghoon.

(internally, you thank him for pulling you out of those thoughts.)

“hey, ___!”, he greets you excitedly.you look at him blankly before putting him in a headlock, muttering angrily,

“you bastard. you call me in the middle of the night, say it’s important, then ignore me? you know I have no patience for this, and you call me at 3 AM?? I’m going to kill you, kim jonghoon.”

he knows you’re really mad when you say his full name.

“a-ah, _-__, I can’t talk—”

you tighten your grip.

“your silence is starting to please me, jonghoon. you in a coffin would be even better.”

he taps your arm, and you loosen slightly.

“i-if you let me g-go, I c-can talk.”

you click your tongue and release him, crossing your arms.

“speak. before I change my mind and leave.”

he knows you’re not joking, so he hurries.

“so... I kind of... signed you up for a temporary job... playing piano for an artist’s production here.”

kim jonghoon was a dead man that day.

...or so you wish.

but here you were, sitting at a table with your friend in front of you. he bought you lunch, so you forgave him—temporarily. two days, you told him.

"jonghoon, you know i haven't played in three years. what the hell were you thinking!?" your voice rose slightly, laced with disappointment, and you didn’t hide it.

he lowered his head a bit, knowing what he did wasn’t right. "sorry, ___… i just wanted to help. seeing you in the same situation as three years ago makes me anxious. i hate seeing you like that at home, and—"

letting out a frustrated sigh, you ran your hands through your hair, elbows resting on the table. "this is something i'm working on, jonghoon. i know you want to help, but—" you stared at the table, eyes slowly filling with tears.

"it’s not something that heals just like that... i hate the piano. i hate my music. i hate my family. and i hate hating these things."

the man in front of you stood up and walked over, gently running his fingers through your hair. "look… i know what i did was wrong, but ___…"

he hesitated, and you looked up at him. "i know you don’t actually hate the piano. i know you don’t truly hate your music. it’s what lifted you out of where you were, ___. don’t say that, please."

you looked at him, anger flashing in your eyes. "kim jonghoon, don’t talk about things you don’t understand."

you stood from your chair, grabbing your things. "sometimes, you're just like them. you try to dictate how i feel. you don’t know anything. you shouldn’t have done this, and you know it."

you walked toward the door, ready to leave. "i’m not completely mad. i get that you want to help, but… just leave me alone. for a while."

just before you reached for the handle, the large door swung open. you took a few steps back as a man entered.

his colorful hair, cap with a scarf tied over it, yellow-tinted glasses, vibrant clothes, and perfectly painted nails made him stand out. he brought color into the dull, lifeless room—like a stylish rainbow.

jonghoon perked up, walking over to the man.

"jiyong-ssi! hey, how are you!?" he greeted the man enthusiastically, who smiled at him and bowed at a precise 90-degree angle.

"jonghoon-ssi, hello. i'm doing well. and you?" his voice was calm and deep, slightly raspy but steady. the more energetic man simply smiled and nodded in agreement.

you stood with your hands in your pockets, feeling a little out of place, glancing around.

the man with colorful hair noticed you in the room and fidgeted with his hands slightly but still greeted you. "you must be ___-ssi, right?"

you nodded with a small ‘yes’ and bowed at 90 degrees as well, polite. the man in front of you did the same. "i'm kwon jiyong. nice to meet you. i heard you’ve been playing piano for years—i’m interested in your work."

you stared at him for a few seconds, but before you could respond, jonghoon cut in. "ahh, ___ is definitely interested, jiyong-ssi! i told them about the job, and they rushed right over—you can trust me on this."

giving your friend a deadly glare, he continued undeterred. "the absolute best pianist in the world is standing right in front of you! i’ve never seen anyone like them—pure dedication! the music that comes from ___'s fingers takes me to heaven, seriously!"

you rolled your eyes at jonghoon’s exaggerated praises but stayed silent. he wasn’t going to give up on making you play again. you didn’t know how to feel about it—grateful or incredibly frustrated.

the more energetic man pulled you and jiyong by the arms, making you both sit at the table as he started talking.

"___, jiyong-ssi recently started producing his third solo album, something highly anticipated by his fans, of course. it’s not every day that g-dragon releases an album, and—"

ah.that’s why kwon jiyong seemed familiar to you.

the man sitting beside you was g-dragon.

you put your elbows on the table and buried your head in your hands.

what the hell had you gotten yourself into?

a/n – so, I wrote this while listening to gd’s ‘drama’, seriously, what a wonderful album, where I live it came out at 2 in the morning, but I woke up to listen to it, I don’t regret it one bit, thank you for the wonderful album gd, I have no complaints (and never have). thanks for reading! I’ll release part one soon, I think it will have at most 3 parts (not counting the prologue), but I can’t guarantee anything. feel free to correct any mistakes!

[gorbo-longstocking]

Cover It Up | Modern!Caracalla x GN!Reader

Summary: Every few nights, like clockwork, Caracalla shows up at your door, drunk, or high, or both. There is so much that he says, and so little that you can bring yourself to tell him. It’s the same now as it always is.

Tags: Modern AU, GN!Reader, references to drugs and alcohol, implied past child abuse (Caracalla), implied addiction problems (Caracalla), so much yearning, reader is a medical student, kind of sad and angsty, this is technically an side story to my main fic Do Not Blame the Sea but it can be read as its own thing, Caracalla and Reader’s relationship here sort of parallels how it is in the main fic

Word Count: 1.7k Words

Song: Lost Kitten - Metric

Do Not Blame the Sea Masterlist

Before the door even opened, you knew who was standing on your doorstep. Who else would visit you in the late hours of the night when the moon was drifting lower on the horizon in order to make way for the sun? You couldn’t name another person in your life who would dare bother you during the few seconds of solitude you so desperately craved. No one else would expect you to be awake. Not your parents who would lose their minds if they discovered you were doing anything but sleeping or studying, and certainly not your fair-weather friends from college who knew nothing of your insomniac tendencies. It was always him. The one you’d drop everything for, no matter what it was.

It was always Caracalla who knocked on your door.

“Good morning, doctor.” He leaned on your porch railing, his feet unsteady. The stench of booze radiated off of him in waves, nearly suffocating in its intensity. On his chin, vomit was crusted to his skin, and you let out a sigh.

“Caracalla, I don’t think anyone would consider it morning yet. Come in.”

You always thought he was beautiful with the night sky behind him. While your apartment was nestled too far in the city for there to be stars, the midnight blue complimented his eyes perfectly. His imperfections were hidden during the day when you saw him on campus, that was when he was far too fixated on hiding them. It was only at this hour, when sweat made his makeup run, revealing acne and pockmarks, and the humidity made his red hair curl, did you think he was more handsome than you had ever seen him. Caracalla would never believe you if you told him. If anything, he would believe your words to be a joke. So, like all thoughts in regards to your affections for him, you kept them to yourself.

Reaching out an arm, you opened the door wide to help him inside. His hand was clammy, far too warm to match his drunken flush. Judging by the size of his pupils, alcohol wasn’t all he had gotten into. You had known Caracalla long enough to know his drug of choice tended to be cocaine, though with a frustrating tendency to indulge especially when he didn’t know what he was taking. The likelihood he simply ate a random pill he found on the floor of a frat house was annoyingly high. He giggled as he clumsily made his way in the door, pressing his body against yours. Despite his rancid state, you found yourself craving his warmth. You always did.

“Doctor, doctor, I need my doctor,” Caracalla slurred as you led him to the couch. When he flopped onto the cushions, his eyelids fluttered shut before he forced them open again. That made it easier to guess what was in his system, it meant whatever he took wasn’t an upper. “Need you to take care of me. Get to it.” He was always so demanding, and a bit of fondness fought with your exasperation. Before you left to get him a glass of water, he reached out to wrap delicate fingers around your wrist. “I’ve missed you.”

You missed him too. In order to keep the words from spilling out, you gave him a tight smile and pulled away. His glassy eyes flickered with a familiar frustration you paid no mind. Once you were in the kitchen, you fell into a routine. Water to hydrate him, a wet towel to wipe the vomit from his chin, and some tylenol for the morning. Like every night Caracalla came, you would tell him to sleep on the couch, and like every night since you met him, he would find his way into your bed. You set the medicine on your night stand.

“Tell me you missed me too,” He demanded once you were in his line of sight. His eyes were squinted, unable to open them any wider than they were. When you handed him the water, he drank greedily, and before he could wipe his chin with his sleeve, you crouched down to wipe him clean. Caracalla hummed, nearly a purr, as you steadied yourself with a hand against his cheek, leaning into your touch. “I know you did, I can feel it.”

“I’m surprised you can feel anything aside from how badly the room is spinning,” You grumbled.

Caracalla laughed, high-pitched and sharp. His gold tooth glinted in the dim light. “I must be dreaming, but I see four of you, doctor. Surely one must want to soothe my aches.”

“Those aches better be the urge to sleep.” The wet rag you were using caught on his bottom lip, dragging it down. Over a year of yearning made you stare, though you would never dream of taking advantage of him in this state.

Caracalla followed your gaze to his mouth and he smirked. His voice fell into a whisper, breath hot against your face. “The urge to fuck.”

“My answer is the same as always, Caracalla.” Before you removed your hand from him, you gave him a firm pat on the cheek. Disappointment made his face scrunch up. It was a cute expression, and maybe it was a quarter of the reason you kept turning him down. The other half being the fact he was only ever intoxicated when you were together, and the final quarter being your parents inevitable disapproval. “It’ll never happen.”

Caracalla stood, swaying in place for a moment. Once he found his balance, he stumbled the memorized route to your bedroom to curl into his side of the bed. It was embarrassing to realize that he had his own spot in your home now, but with how often he showed up, it only made sense.

A year and a half ago, you wanted nothing to do with Caracalla. You barely knew he existed outside of the rumors that followed him like a plague. Of his pet monkey that made him a miserable roommate in the dorms, of the fact he was a walking petri dish of STDs, his promiscuity, his tendency towards hedonism over his grades, and most of all, the fact his daddy knew the dean personally, so it wasn’t as if he could get in any lasting trouble for any of it. He was in your biology class three semesters ago. Like most people he considered below him, he paid you no mind until you were stuck together on a group project. You intended to do all of the work if only to avoid him, and he seemed content to let you.

You hadn’t meant to find him hysterical and barely coherent in his dorm, nor did you mean to endear yourself to him as entirely as you by calming him down. Apparently, his father had left him quite the nasty voicemail. You didn’t listen, you deleted it the second you got ahold of his phone, but you could put the pieces together well enough. Especially with the half-sobbed pleas for mercy Caracalla cried into your chest.

After that, Caracalla latched on, and like mold on bread, he grew on you. During the day, he barely paid you any attention. It was only at night did he make his affections known, drunk, or high, or both, always showing up when the rest of the world was asleep. You didn’t know why he bothered. If he truly meant what he said, surely he wouldn’t ignore you as he did during the day. When he kissed other people, he made sure you knew, watching your expression out of the corner of his eye. There was a lot about Caracalla you didn’t understand, and you were certain you never would. You wanted to, though. That was why you buried yourself against his side, slinging his arm over your shoulders to help him into your bed.

This was how the night always ended, Caracalla in your arms, snoring away. This time, however, he remained awake, staring up at you. It was obvious it was taking everything he had to stay awake. He took turns closing each eye, one resting while the other bored into you.

“Go to sleep,” You muttered.

Caracalla whined and rubbed his cheek against yours. “I don’t want this to end.”

The admission made your breath catch in your throat. You didn’t want this to end either. He was always gone by the time you woke up.

“Then don’t leave.”

His fingers tightened in the fabric of your pajamas. “It’s better that I do, my doctor.”

“Caracalla.” Licking your dry lips, you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. “Why do you always come back? If you’re not going to stay, why do you look for me like this?”

He hummed, and for a moment, you didn’t think he’d respond. Finally, clumsy and slurred, the words tumbled out of his mouth and burrowed into your chest, “You make me feel safe.”

You wished he could say it when he wasn’t on some pill when it actually meant something. Still, you couldn’t help the flutter your heart gave. Your eyes burned as you tightened your grip on his body. “I hate it when you’re like this.”

“I hate it when I’m sober,” Caracalla sleepily replied. “I remember too much.”

Chewing on your bottom lip, you let yourself ask, “Do you forget these nights too? Is that why you hardly look at me when we’re on campus.”

“I could never forget you.” He was drifting now, and with a deep breath, he forced himself to hover over you, his palm planted on the mattress beside you. With a desperation you shared, he pressed his forehead against yours. “Kiss me.”

It took everything you had to turn away. “Not when you’re like this. When you're sober, I will. I promise.”

Defeated, Caracalla let himself slump back against you.

“I’m never sober.”

“Then you know what my answer is.”

With him curled around you, you barely heard it, the same confession he made every night, spoken with the conviction you tried to ignore. “I love you.”

You didn’t respond.

A minute passed in silence, the only sound in your small bedroom the sound of your mingled breathing. Gently, you shook Caracalla to make certain he was asleep, and when he didn’t move, you told him what you’d been hiding since the first day you held him. Your own declaration that made your stomach churn with fear.

“I love you too.”

And, like every night, Caracalla didn’t hear.

A/N: I know I said that I wasn’t going to do DNBTS oneshots, but I listened to Lost Kitten by Metric and saw visions of this. This is sort of a tumblr only fic, I dunno if I’m gonna out this on AO3?? I gotta think on it. Like I said in the tags, this is supposed to sort of mirror where Caracalla and Alga are relationship wise in DNBTS, just a smidge angstier. Caracalla unable to truly be with Alga in the way he desperately wants due to public perception, but until he can, Alga will continue to push him away despite wanting him too. Cue insane amounts of yearning. Also something, something Caracalla is incapable of change.

For those who don’t know what Do Not Blame the Sea is, it’s my main fic! So, if you liked this, go check that out, hehe. I don’t have much to say here, really, so this author’s note will be short. Bye-bye! I hope you enjoyed this little thingy, please like, reply, or reblog if you did! It’ll encourage me to indulge in more side stories and AU’s <3

[haru-natsuka]

Second Male Leads Are all Yanderes but I Won't Rest Until I Win My Love Back (Female Reader x OCs)

CHAPTER 8

Story will start after the synopsis

Every second male lead who appeared in this world had a hidden yandere side that can emerge at any moment and turn them into a twisted and obsessive villain.

As someone with a severe case of the "second male lead syndrome", you are determined to pursue your love for the second male lead, leaving the original male lead to become the second.

While you were busy chasing after the second male lead, the original male lead kept on bothering you and trying to get you to choose him instead.

"Don't you dare to come any closer!" You snap at the original male lead, your tone sharp and firm.

"Oh, and who's going to stop me? You?" The yandere stares at you, a menacing look in their eyes, as their body slowly moves closer.

"Too close! Step back!"

"Your words mean nothing to me. You can't control me. I will come as close as I please, you can't stop me."

As if a yandere was not enough, when you chose to ignore the original male lead, another second male lead suddenly entered your life, further complicating the situation.

The yandere and the upcoming second male lead both seem determined to have you for themselves, and they were both very possessive and pushy in their approaches to you.

You just wanted to be happy with your true love. Yandere or not, you would stick with your crush!

CHAPTER 1 << CHAPTER 2 << CHAPTER 3 << CHAPTER 4 << CHAPTER 5 << CHAPTER 6 << CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8: MY LOVE

Cyrus's words echoed through your mind, leaving you reeling. Frustration and annoyance surged through you at his nonchalant attitude.

'This guy! This worthless dumb guy!'

"Is your love so devoid of depth?" you retorted, your voice cutting through the air like a sharp edge.

"Do you think someone you loved can just be replaced so easily? The feelings can be discarded like yesterday's trash? Is your love that shallow?" Your anger and hurt boiled over as you continue.

"Do you think love is as frivolous as choosing a new outfit?" you continued, your words laced with sarcasm. "That I can just toss away all the time I've spent with Adrian and jump into your arms just like that?"

'Even if the world comes to an end, my end would only be my sweetest man'

"What?" Cyrus's expression morphed into baffled surprise at your response, having not anticipated the depth of your lecture on love.

"I'm not sure what led you to break up with Liesel," you continued, your tone sharp, "or even if your previous relationship ended in a bitter dispute. But it's rather comical how much effort you invest in finding another girl to fill Liesel's place. You should know that no one can truly replace her—she is her own, unique person. And the reason behind your failed relationship is one that lies firmly within yourself."

With a final scoff, you added bitterly. "You can keep looking for someone like her, but you'll only end up alone and miserable."

Cyrus's face fell, his usual smirk replaced with a hint of vulnerability as he took in your words.

"Alone and miserable, huh?" he echoed softly, his gaze dropping to the ground. He remained silent for a moment, absorbing the weight of your truthful remark. When he spoke again, his voice had lost some of its usual cockiness, replaced by a trace of uncertainty.

"Maybe you're right," he said, his tone lacking the usual confident edge. "Maybe I am just chasing a fantasy, trying to replace Liesel with someone else."

Cyrus's demeanor transformed, his gaze hardening as he closed the distance between you. His expression was serious as he spoke.

"But I am not simply searching for a replica of Liesel," he clarified. "I want someone better."

His eyes locked on yours as he continued, his voice firm and the confidence slowly slipped in again. "I've noticed you at the academy. The devotion and loyalty you exhibit towards Adrian. I don't have overly high standards. I want someone dedicated to me, someone with their undivided attention on me, someone like you."

'WHAT THE-'

You unleashed your anger, stomping forcefully on his foot with the heel of your shoe. You choose to never lying of your feelings as this man would misinterpret it as he pleased.

"I detest you," you retorted, your voice filled with frustration, "so shut up."

Cyrus winced slightly from the pain but did not back down.

"Hate is merely the opposite of love. I am capable of protecting you. You can count on me. I'm an accomplished knight, part of the royal guard, and I am stronger than Adrian. Trust me."

'OH MY GOD! Why it's so hard to make this guy understand!'

You took a deep breath, trying to compose yourself despite your anger.

"Your strength is certainly impressive," you acknowledged grudgingly, "but it takes more than physical prowess to be a reliable partner."

Your gaze remained fixed on Cyrus as you added, "Trust and loyalty aren't things you can simply demand or force. They are earned through actions and time. And Adrian give me more reason to trust him."

"Trust and loyalty are indeed earned, not demanded. Adrian has given you more reason to trust him, huh? But what has he done to deserve such unwavering faith, hm?"

Your frustration continued to bubble up as Cyrus challenged your trust in Adrian.

"Trust and loyalty are exactly that," you agreed, your voice firm. "They are earned by consistent actions over time."

You met his gaze head-on as you responded, "And yes, Adrian has given me ample reason to trust him, reason enough that I don't need to justify it to you. But let me ask you this. What have you done to deserve such blind trust from me?"

"All I can say is that you haven't been a good friend to Adrian," you snapped back, unable to hold your tongue. "You knew damn well how much he adored Liesel, yet you had the audacity to confess your feelings right in front of him. Did you even try to comfort him when his heart was shattered? No, instead of being there for him, you both just ditched him like discarded leftovers."

Cyrus's eyes widened, caught off guard by your sharp words.

"Not even a good friend, huh?" he muttered, his tone defensive. "I might not have been the ideal support for Adrian during his heartbreak, but I had my own feelings to consider."

He attempted to justify his actions, "I couldn't help confessing my love for Liesel. It was eating away at me. And leaving Adrian? We both had our own reasons. We didn't leave him like some discardable food. It was a complex situation."

"COMPLEX SITUATION?!!! HOW DARE YOU SELFISH BRAT!-"

Your frustration rose to a new peak as Cyrus covered your mouth mid-sentence. His habit of touching you without permission was irritating beyond belief. Enraged, you managed to get a hold on his hair, tugging aggressively as you also you bite strongly on his palm, causing him to grunt in pain and agony.

"There!" You snapped, a hint of satisfaction in your voice. "How does a bald patch sound?"

Near you, there was sound of rustling and crashing foliage alerted you to an unexpected development. It seemed that your struggle with Cyrus had attracted a nearby wild boar's attention, and it was now charging towards you both with its short and fast tiny feet.

"That's what I want to tell you" Cyrus turned his attention swiftly towards the wild boar, his instincts on high alert. He clutched his head, rubbing the spot where you had grabbed his hair, while also trying to keep a wary eye on the approaching danger.

"You are a knight, do something with that sword!"

"Right," he muttered, drawing his sword from its sheath. With practiced ease, Cyrus positioned himself to confront the approaching boar, wielding his blade with practiced precision.

The wild boar was closing in rapidly, its fierce eyes fixed on you both. Cyrus positioned himself in front of you, preparing to confront the charging animal.

"Stay behind me," he instructed, keeping his gaze firmly fixed on the charging animal. "I'll handle this. At the end you still require someone strong"

As Cyrus stood valiantly, sword in hand, preparing to face the charging boar, you seized the moment. There was no reason for you to stay with him. You also had successfully collected all the flowers you need for Adrian. He was so focused on being the hero that he did not notice your sudden departure.

Taking advantage of his distraction, you swiftly turned and dashed away towards your house, leaving Cyrus to face the wild boar on his own. You did not look back, your mind set on putting distance between yourself and the obnoxious knight that you had no care what would happened to him.

'Oh wild boar, I hope you are satisfied with your breakfast. I will make sure no one would find out'

As you raced towards your house, you noticed Adrian tending to the fields as usual, his figure familiar and comforting. The sight of him brought a pang of mixed emotions – relief and reassurance.

You quickened your pace, your heart pounding in your chest. The events with Cyrus had left you both physically and emotionally shaken, and all you longed for now was the comfort of Adrian's presence and his soothing voice.

"Adrian!"

Tag list:

@d3sperate-enuf @sirenetheblogger @orinnie @aoiyx @chin-chii

@elsoleil @iamapotatoe @yzuposts @black-butterfly-2405

@beeskn3es @ivorette @type-ink @lol-leo @rafayelslittleconchshell

[maskedcrawford]

Hidden Secrets

G Dragon x Reader

Summary: Steve, Ji-yong and another morning after. But this time words are spoken that can't be taken back.

Warnings: MORE Angst but this time it ends a little differently. I hope you guys enjoy! I'm having a blast writing this fic and so glad you guys are enjoying it. Please leave a like or a reblog if you enjoy and be sure to follow for updates on the story. Thank you for reading and for your support!

Chapter 2

Chapter 3- Beauty in the Mess

You listen to the phone ring, ring and ring some more. Why were you calling Steve exactly? One reason, you wanted to take your mind off Ji-yong and whatever her name is.

“Hello,” his tired but sober, for once, voice answers.

“H-hey,” you choke out.

“Y/n?” he asks as he sits up in bed, “What’s up?” he’s more alert now.

“If I text you the address, can you come over?” You had that feeling in the pit of your stomach that this wasn’t a good idea, but you were too hurt and frustrated to care.

“Uh, yeah just let me know where you are.”

“Ok, and bring condoms.” You say and hang up on him. Your stomach is in knots but you don’t care. You want something Ji-yong clearly isn’t going to give you and you aren’t exclusive. He said you could bring men home, so you’re going to.

You walk out of your room again and you stop and listen for a moment, there’s silence in his room and you figure he’s asleep.

“Safe till morning,” you think as you walk to the living room and watch outside the window. No need in him knocking and possibly waking up Ji. Once he gets there you let him in and put your finger to your lips making the shh motion. You lead him to your room wearing nothing but a long t shirt and your underwear.

“I uh, brough these,” he says showing you the box of condoms and you take the box and throw it aside to be used later.

“What’s going on?” his face is full of confusion and while you wish it was Ji-yong you were about to kiss, its not. But hey, he isn’t the only one who can use his imagination. You bring Steve’s neck down to your level as you capture his lips in a kiss filled with nothing but lust.

“Y/n,” he tries to say against your lips. You pull back and slip the t shirt off. You place his hands on you, knowing how to work him like a fiddle.

“Don’t talk, just make me feel good,” you say as you kiss him again. Did he make you feel good, eh not exactly. Kind of. Not the way Ji-yong did. His touch wasn’t heaven, it wasn’t electric or passionate, it was needy, rushed and selfish. He didn’t elicit the same noises or desires in you; being with Ji-yong really had spoiled you. But you honestly didn’t care as long as you got off.

“Does that feel good baby.”

“Don’t talk,” you said as you kissed him again, trying to think of Ji instead of him.

“Fuck.” You moan out.

“I thought you said we have to be quiet.”

“What did I say about talking?” you swat his face. Did you exaggerate a few noises? Of course, I mean, what good would this be if Ji-yong didn’t know anything.

Once the activity was done, you both lay there in bed heaving.

“Fuck I missed you,” he breathes as he tries to cuddle you. You get up before he can fully embrace you and quietly pick up your shirt and underwear putting it back on. You honestly needed a shower after that.

“I’m going to take a shower.”

“Want some company,” his voice is suggestive.

“No, Steve,” your voice is filled with annoyance and you twist your face in disgust.

You turn on the hot water once you get in the bathroom, the hottest you can stand, and slip in feeling it hit and sting your skin. Tears unintentionally stream down your cheeks. You hadn’t processed the stress any of this had put you under until this moment.

“What is wrong with me,” you sobbed quietly. 9 months ago, your life was so different. Your boyfriend was decent and working, Ji-yong was just your best friend and life was smooth. Now, your relationship with your best friend is more complicated than ever and your deadbeat ex-boyfriend was waiting in your bed, after he slept with another girl! You huff as you scrub your body, trying to make it feel clean after what you had just done. You notice a spot that looks like it wants to bleed and you stop before too much damage is done.

You walk back into your bedroom after your shower and see Steve is all ready asleep. Aftercare was never his thing. He liked to fuck and then sleep. In that particular order. You roll your eyes as you get in bed, thinking once again about how Ji-yong would be treating you.

He’d clean you up first and foremost. Ask if you were ok and then he’d hold you like if he didn’t, you’d fall apart; like he was some kind of glue for you. He’d tell you how good you did, how beautiful you are, and how special he thinks you are too. He didn’t treat it as a casual thing despite the arrangement, he treated it like you were his lady, because in those moments you were.

Before you know it, morning comes and you hear the sound of shouting and pots and pans clanging together. Your eyes widen as everything rushes back to memory. You look over in a futile effort to see if Steve is with you still. Of course not.

With your emotions clear, last night’s decisions are weighting heavy on you. You crawl out of bed and sigh before opening the door.

“Get the fuck out!” you hear Ji’s voice filled with rage.

“I swear to God if you fucking touched her,” you couldn’t see him in the hallway but you knew his face was red. He’d never sounded so angry.

“Look man she called me,” Steve says. Steve was good at covering his own ass, even if it was true.

“So you fucking came? Did she not make it clear she was done with you sorry ass?” you couldn’t help but revel in the fact that he was defending you, despite the tiff, it was really sexy.

“Well, considering the fact that moaned because of me last night, no,” you could hear the smirk in Steve’s voice and you heard a glass break.

“Fucking shit, man.” You hear Steve say and you walk around the corner. Your vison is filled with a trashed kitchen and Ji-yong has a pot in one hand and a knife in the other. Steve is hunched over, more cuts and bruises, you particularly notice one to his eye. That must’ve happened before you woke up.

“What the actual fuck, y/n?” Ji-yong asks angrily, looking at you.

“I,” your voice is hoarse.

“You want me to, in the middle of making breakfast this morning, hear my shower turn on and see your naked shrimp dick boyfriend in it when I go to see if you’re up?” You catch a glimpse of his hand and see that it’s bloody, but it’s not cut. It’s Steve’s blood.

“I’m just,” Steve points to the door and he limps past you. You rub the back of your neck with your eyes closed. Fuck. He turns his attention to you and you can see the absolute rage on his face. He was hurt, don’t get it twisted, but he was also pissed someone touched what was his, even if he’d been the one to start it.

“I mean, really? What the hell were you thinking? He was drunk the last time you seen him and he tried,” he trails off closing his eyes and he slams the pot and knife down as he remembers the sight of you in danger. It makes his blood boil.

“I,”

“Actually, I don’t fucking care,” he puts his hand up. You were now to the point of being the one upset.

“Hold on,” you shout as he walks past you still in his robe.

“First of all, you weren’t even supposed to be here today. You told me you were recording today.”

“Yeah, I canceled. Didn’t realize I had to run every little plan by you,” he turns to you his eyes full of bitterness.

“Second,” you put up two fingers, “You don’t get to be mad at me with the way I chose to proceed after the bull shit you pulled last night. Not mention, third,” you hold up another finger, “You said we weren’t exclusive and you,” you point your finger to his chest, “brought someone else home first. So excuse me for thinking I could do the same thing.” You cross your arms and put your weight on your hip.

Ji-yong’s jaw clenches and unclenches multiple times

“I didn’t bring home someone who treated me like shit and broke my heart,” he seethes.

“No, you’re right,” you say too calm, “I live with a guy who can that just fine.”

 He goes silent for a moment, the air between, you would swear you could suffocate in the silence.

“Was he better than me?” you’re caught off guard with his question. His voice is so low and calm it almost frightened you.

“Was she better than me?” you retort. You turn to grab a waffle off the plate in the kitchen when you hear him mumble it.

“No.”

You freeze, with a piece of waffle in your mouth, you turn a look at him, still standing there in his robe and bed head. He looked almost like a little kid as he looked at the ground. You walk over to him.

“What,” you ask as you swallow the waffle bite. He sighs and rubs his hands together before admitting this small truth to you once again.

“No, jagiya, she wasn’t better than you,” he’s looking deep into your eyes. Your face softens slightly.

“Really?” He nods his head with pursed lips.

“So tell me, was he better than me?” his lips twitch slightly. You look at the ground and tell him the truth.

“No,” your voice comes out shy and quiet.

“Mm,” he hums for a minute before coming closer to you.

“Did you at least have a nice time,” his tone is slightly cocky and you want to tear away any pride you can of his.

“Yeah, I did,” you say short and snippy, “I think you should change your mind about the studio today. It’s probably best you aren’t around me.” You say matter of factly. You start walking back to your room. And that’s when his girl from last night comes trapsing out in nothing but a bra and panties. How the heck did she not freak out over the whole ordeal?

“Oh, sorry I was just uh, oh, there you are,” she smiles shyly as she walks by you and gives Ji-yong a good morning kiss. Well actually she practically sticks her tongue down her throat.

“So are we going to spend in the day in bed like we talked about? It’s getting lonely in there,” she giggles. Ji-yong glances your way with sorrowful look at your rage is once again activated. He really had the nerve to get mad at you and she was why he wasn’t going to record? To be with some girl you were sure he didn’t know the name of.

“But Ji-yongie you promised,” you stand there shamelessly listening.

“Not today, I have something I have to do,” his eyes flit to you, “ I’ll get you an uber home.” She pouts and your fists are balled at your side. You go to your room and slam the door.

Ji-yong knew he screwed up, bad, and he wasn’t willing to leave it like this. You two hadn’t fought like this, ever. You two never really did fight, unless it was playful, but that was before your feelings, and bodies, intertwined.

He gives the blonde, who he still can’t recall her name, a kiss on the cheek as he sends her off in his uber. You walk out of your room in your clothes for the day, ready to get to work on the painting you’ve been working on. You catch him staring at you from the entry hall by the front door.

You walk into the small studio and give it a moment. You can’t risk Ji-yong walking in on your artwork. You were painting a picture of you and him, only it was becoming more abstract, much like your relationship. It started off as two people, you and him essentially, but as emotions came up and then got buried and the chaos of the last 48 hours came about, the picture began to have splatters of paint, lines through the middle of it. He’s painted in red and orange, signifying passion and love, what you felt for him. You were painted in colors of blue and gray, signifying your bottled-up emotions and the heartbreak you’re beginning to feel is inevitable.

Ji-yong pads down the hallway, not sure of what to say, how to make it right or what would happen next, but he knew he cared about you too much to not try and talk to you about it. See he never really slept with that girl, she did some things, but he never touched her. He couldn’t, she wasn’t you. That’s why Steve hurt so bad, he knew you’d slept with him, and you did it because of what you thought he did with the girl he brought home. He gently opens the door and shuts it behind him. He see’s you standing in front of a gorgeous painting, staring at it.

“Wow,” you grab at your chest as you gasp. You don’t turn around, too anxious to move.

“It’s beautiful,” he says coming up behind you.

“You weren’t supposed to see it,” you move to put it away but he tugs you back, your back hitting his chest.

“Well, now I have,” he says quietly. He feels something wet his arm as it drapes around your midsection.

“Nae sarang,” he whispers lovingly in your ear. You grit your teeth for a moment.

“Don’t you fucking call me that,” you say you turn to him, your tears being freely released. He shoots his hands up in mock surrender but you aren’t done.

“You really are a jackass, you know that? You really fucking are. I mean, you sit here and treat me like shit, leave me after last night and then go out and find some broad to fuck because I beg you for it?”

“I told you why what happened yesterday did.”

“Oh my God, Ji so I laughed. I laughed because I thought the idea was funny because of how fucked up our situation is!” Your voice echoes in the room. He nods his head slowly.

“And then you think you can just trapse in here, and act like I’m yours because you said she wasn’t a better fuck than me.” You move your hands wildly now out of anger. Maybe you should’ve been the one painted in red.

“Just go, get out so I can work,” you say with a sigh as you turn to grab your paint.

“What’s the red line for?” he asks curiosity getting the better of him.

“For the rift between us. It cuts us at our core because our relationship is fractured, Ji. Whether we want to believe that or not, it’s broken. And much like the paint on this canvas, it may be that way forever.” You explain with your back turned. There’s no way you could face him and say this. You don’t see the depression that twists on his face. The way his heart breaks to hear your words. Yeah he messed up, but he didn’t know he had hurt you this bad. This was supposed to be a casual thing for you.

“Y/n” he tries to come up to you, to hold you, to tell you that you can still fix it, but you shove him away from you.

“I think I’m going to need to move out.” You mumble.

“Listen, I know I screwed up, but,” he tries to reason with you, he regrets his choices from last night more than he ever thought he would. If he’d have known losing you is what it would cost him, he never would’ve done any of this. Yet he still can’t bring himself to be vulnerable with you, not completely.

“Ji-yong, get away from me,” you say through clenched teeth. He sighs and walks out.

You hear him slam the door to his room and you blast your music through the speakers and begin painting.

What you don’t see are the tears he lets flow. If he’d never of slept with you that night, if he would’ve kept control of himself you two wouldn’t be in this situation.

“Fuck!” you hear him yell over the music and despite your anger you can’t help but go check on him, you’re mad but you still love him. You stand outside his door and gently tap your knuckles against it.

“Ji,” you say gently. He doesn’t open the door. You turn the nob and to your surprise he’s laying on his bed. The one he laid in with her not 12 hours earlier. A picture of what they could’ve looked like tangled together enters your mind and you force it away. You don’t say anything, you just lay with him, putting your hand around his body, pressing him to you.

“Don’t leave, please,” his voice is hoarse, barely coming out above a whisper. He closes his eyes, silently begging you.

“Ji, this isn’t healthy for either one of us.”

“What do you want me to do? Tell me and I’ll do it,” he turns over to face you and that’s when you see it. The brokenness he’d been hiding. The pain at the thought of you leaving, at the thought of having lost you.

“It’s not that I want you to do anything, I just don’t think we can handle this. But at the same time things can’t go back to way they were.” You absentmindedly place a hand on his cheek and he closes his eyes, reveling in your touch.

“I’m sorry I hurt you,” he scoots closer to you, too close. Your mouths are inches from each other, your foreheads are touching, and you can feel his hot breath on your lips.

“Ji, we,” the tension is making your head spin as you notice his not so subtle staring at your lips.

“Oh, damn it,” you say in defeat as you pull him to you and your lips collide in a beautiful eruption of fireworks. He pulls you to him, pulling you on top of him. You separate to assault his jawline and neck. His breaths are short and pant like, his head spins from the chaos of the last few days and your touch. How the two of you could ever truly recover he wasn’t sure.

 You open his robe and trail kisses down his bare chest, stopping to nip at his skin every now and again. As you trail kisses down his stomach you see her face, again, and you stop. You look at him and he can see the change in demeanor.

“What’s wrong,”

“I can’t stop picturing it.” You move off of him and back to the side.

“I didn’t really sleep with her,” he says shyly and you shoot your brows up and look at him.

“What?”

“I mean she did some stuff but I never actually touched her,” his face is slightly red. You weren’t sure if you were relieved or more pissed.

“So what the hell? You just wanted me to think you slept with her to piss me off? Make me jealous or something?”

“No, I,” he rubs his hands down his face. Once again, an awkward silence fills the room.

“I don’t want you to go,” he says after a minute of stillness.

“I don’t want to go, Ji, but I can’t keep getting my heart broken.”

“What do you mean? How is your heart getting broken if we’re just casual.”

“Because,” you freeze before anything is said you can’t take back.

“Because,” you start again, “Even if it’s casual, we’re just using each other here. That’s fucking painful.”

“Like you used Steve last night,” he quirks a brow.

“That’s not fair,” you mumble, “You did the same thing with, who was she?” He shrugs his shoulders.

“Exactly, I can’t take being used by you.”

“By me?”

“Yeah, it hurts, it stings it makes me,” your chest is heaving harder now.

“I just can’t do it, Ji-yong. I thought I could. I really did.”

“I don’t want to lose you,” he says trying to pull you close.

“I don’t want to lose you, but I have to think of myself. Hell I’m the only one thinking of me, here.”

“Hold on, that’s not true. I was trying to wine and dine you, make you feel better about this whole thing.”

“You did it because you wanted sex, you wanted my body, Ji-yong. I know that all ready. Dinner isn’t required when you aren’t going to date someone.

“Are you saying that’s what you want? A date?” he ducks his head to peer into your eyes and you quickly glance away.

“I have a painting to finish,” you mumble and get up off the bed.

“Y/N,” he stops you from leaving. He pauses and takes a deep breath.

“Will you go out with me tonight?”

“Ji-yong, don’t do,”

“I’m serious. If a date is what you want, a date is what you’ll have. No sex, no strings, just a romantic evening. I’ll plan the whole thing.”

“Don’t do this to keep me from leaving,”

“Yeoja agi, I’d sell everything I own and give up my career to keep you here.”

“Do you even want to date me or is it just a casual thing?”

If you enjoyed and would like to support me, buy me a coffee

“Y/n,” he takes a deep breath, “I’m crazy about you.” You look at him stunned.

Tags: @loveesiren @natalicss @mashtatosworld @nerdydoll-com

[sourinartt]

what is this obsession that nh/hnt stans have with making her some kind of "boss" who tramples Naruto whenever she wants?

I understand, the filler in the anime changed everything from Kishimoto's manga to make hnt look good, not as a submissive woman who accepts anything from her husband, but as a boss who can trample him or scold her children without shyness making her look more like a sakura

but that is not kishimoto's canon, this is the canon

a "boss" should not cry because her children feel abandoned by their father, on the contrary she should go and kick the man's ass and make him understand how much his children suffer without him

(a boss who scolds her children? better said, her own children are the ones who scold her)

but that's not hnt, she's happy to have married Naruto and that's it, she doesn't have the guts to face Naruto either, because she is a submissive woman who will not do anything without his decision

when boruto is angry at his father she does nothing, when naruto is disrespectful to boruto making him feel embarrassed among so many people, she does nothing either, but she has no problem sending her son to take care of his father's ass because she couldn't and almost died trying

this "boss" has a serious thing about abandoning her children if it were to go after a man, it's not something a "boss" does but ok

the first time she was lucky and was saved by skr, but the second time not only does her husband see her as useless for a mission knowing that she has a byagukan, but he also doesn't think about his daughter, Ironically naruto has to remind him that he has her so that he doesn't abandon her and leave her adrift

'tired sigh' seriously I repeat it again, she is not a boss who solves her children's frustrations for not seeing their father, she just cries because she can't do anything and her son gets angry with her, this "boss" has no problem abandoning her daughter not just once but twice to go after a man like she has pursued him throughout her childhood, she also has no problem sending her son into a fight where he will probably get hurt and killed as long as her man is okay

but if she has enough trouble to hurt a child that is not hers, it is only naruto's, this is a debate and I can understand that she did not want her son to be killed but girl, you haven't done anything for him, you have tendencies to abandon your daughter for a man, why do you want to become a responsible mother now?

when naruto simply decided to take care of kawaki without consulting her, she accepted it and that was it, kawaki was already a danger and the village knew it, she herself saw how he sought to fight and hurt his son at all costs, she also sees how he almost destroyed his house and literally acted suspicious almost all the time she didn't do anything either, in fact, she wanted to do something but again naruto raised his hand like a dog to its owner and she simply chose to stay still

the only one who rules the house is naruto, this family accepts anything that comes from him if that makes him stay longer, I hate that headcanon where Naruto is trampled by her because It doesn't exist, and not only hnt stan has that obsession, skr stan also has it quite a bit, just because naruto lets himself be beaten by her doesn't mean he's a lapdog for that girl

naruto can get carried away by skr until she crosses a line and then we have scenes where she cries because she can't be the same as naruto or she and her ego are simply rejected by him, yeah... Great bosses

[imagineaspen]

Another prompt fill: Secret Garden

This is basically a 'Sheik works for Ganondorf like in the manga' OOT AU

The first time Zelda saw him in her garden, she was filled with rage.  He had already taken everything from her, and now this too?  Would he rip up the flowers she had planted with her father and Impa as a girl?  The final desecration of the castle that used to be her home.  He’d already changed so much about Hyrule Castle that she found herself getting lost at times when she wandered its halls.

Ganondorf looked up from where he knelt by the ground and promptly got to his feet.  He narrowed his eyes.

“Sheik,” he said.

“My king,” she responded steadily. “I apologize for intruding.”

The first several times he had addressed her, it had filled her with panic.  Does he know? she would ask herself; it would take all of her willpower to prevent herself from trembling.  Does he know that I am Hylian?  Does he know that I am a woman?  Does he know that I am Zelda?

But as the weeks turned to months and nothing happened, she had begun to relax into this role.  Sometimes it felt as though Sheik was real, and Zelda was the lie.

“Do you have news for me?”  Ganondorf asked.

“I have scoured Kakariko Village, my king,” she replied.  “If Princess Zelda or her attendant were ever hiding there, they are there no longer.”

Ganondorf’s eyes flashed with frustration, but he merely sighed.  “Very well,” he said.  “Come see me in the throne room later; I have another task for you.”

“Yes, my king,” she said, then hesitated.  

“Is there something else?”

“No, my king, I was only wondering…”  She swallowed.  “What were you doing when I came in?”

There was silence for a moment as he frowned at her.

“I believe you were dismissed,” he said, and she flushed.

“Apologies,” she said, then fled.

Later, once she was certain he had gone, she snuck back into the garden to find the flower beds intact, watered and weeds freshly pulled.  Ganondorf, she was suddenly certain, had not been ripping them up at all.  He had been tending to them.

***

She continued to sneak into the garden as often as she dared, surprised and confused each time that the plants were so well kept. 

This is ridiculous, she told herself.  You are Sheik, not Zelda.

Sheik did not care for sentimental things like flowers.  He cared only for avenging the royal family that he served, even if that required temporarily following the man he hated more than any other.  He was strong, capable.  He had never been so stupid to have hatched the plan that had led to this.

Zelda had ruined everything.  She was not needed.  And yet, in this garden, it was her that emerged.

Ganondorf had added new plants since she had last been here.  Tall and thin, with small pink flowers growing off the lush green stem.  Pretty, she thought.

“Don’t think that I don’t know about all the time you spend here.”  His voice, as though her thoughts had summoned him.

Zelda startled.  “My king,” she said.

“There is very little that occurs in this castle that I do not know about,” Ganondorf said, stepping into the garden.     

“I apologize, my king, I –”

“It’s fine, Sheik,” said Ganondorf.  He approached her, then looked down at the flowers she was leaning over.  

“I’ve never seen this kind of flower,” Zelda said, tentatively turning to glance at him.  She waited, watching him in silence.

“Warm safflina,” Ganondorf said abruptly.  “They grow only in the desert.”

Zelda blinked, surprised; she had not expected him to answer. “Oh?”

Ganondorf looked away, gritting his teeth.  “Something…  to remind me of home,” he said, so softly she could scarcely hear it.  

She stared, not believing what she was hearing.  He must have been in quite the sentimental mood, to speak of his homeland.   Before she could think twice, she asked a question; one she had been considering for some time now but had not dared speak aloud.

“Why have you not had your people move to Castle Town, my king?”

He frowned.   Zelda smiled, and added, carefully, “Surely you do not enjoy looking out onto rubble every day; perhaps it is time to rebuild.  You have said that the desert is harsh, my king; perhaps –”

“I cannot,” he interrupted.  “Not yet.”

“My king?”

“I cannot,” he said, suddenly fierce.  “Until I know that this won’t be taken from me!”  He whirled on her.   “That is why I need you to find the Princess, Sheik.  Her, and that forest boy!”

“I am trying, my king,” she said.  “I’ve been to the forest, and there is no –”

“Then try harder!” he snarled, chest heaving.  He closed his eyes, clenching his right hand into a fist.  “It isn’t enough,” he muttered, more to himself than to her, she thought.  “I need to be stronger, to be better, to…”   

He raised his head to look at her again, and Zelda felt that familiar fear rear up in her.  He knows.  He knows that I am Zelda; he knows that I have Wisdom; he knows –

“Leave, Sheik,” he said.

She should not leave him in this state.  If there was one thing she had learned about him, it was that Ganondorf alone with his thoughts was a dangerous thing indeed.

“My king,” she started, but he shook his head.

“Leave,” he repeated, nearly begging, and it was that which caused her to flee again.

***

The more time passed, the more erratic and paranoid Ganondorf’s behaviour became.  She found herself in the position of advisor as much as spy, spending much of her time talking him down from whatever insane plot he’d hatched to keep Hyrule in his clutches.  (“Let me speak with Darunia,” she’d begged only the past week.  “I will make him see reason, my king; this dragon plan goes too far!”)  He sunk deeper and deeper into his obsession with power and the Triforce, convinced he would lose Hyrule without it (he’d never said that word to her, but she knew what he wanted).

She often wondered why he seemed to listen to her, of all people, when she came to a realization: He has no one else.

He was a man alone, holed up in a castle surrounded by wreckage and monsters.  She did not think he had spoken to any of the Gerudo in months; he had mentioned once something about mothers, but she had never seen them here.  He was falling apart, and Zelda was desperately trying to hold him and her kingdom together until the hero returned.  And yet more and more she found herself thinking of the hero’s return with dread.

Ganondorf would learn, then, that his only confidant was a lie, and she worried it would break him completely.

Now she returned to the castle after a long stint in Zora’s Domain, and the first place she went was her garden – his garden, now.  He was there already, staring down at the soil with a defeated look in his eyes.  She followed his gaze.

The warm safflina were at his feet.  Brown and wilted.

“They are dead,” he said dully as she moved to stand beside him.

“I’m sorry, my king,” Zelda offered.  “It’s the climate; it is too humid here for desert flowers.”

“You think I don’t know that?” he snapped, then let out a long breath.

“Sheik,” he said.  “Why do you follow me?”

She frowned, confused by the change of subject.

“The Royal Family of Hyrule have treated my people as slaves for generations,” she said.  “I would serve anyone who puts a stop to it.”

It was a rehearsed answer, fed to her by Impa (and so easily that Zelda had to wonder if her attendant saw truth in it).

Ganondorf let out a short laugh.  “And I am better?” he said shortly.  “You think that I do not consider snapping your neck every time that you come to me and tell me that you still have not found Princess Zelda?”

“Yet you have not,” Zelda said lightly.  “And so I must consider that to be an empty threat.”

He laughed again; his eyes were taking on a crazed gleam.  “I have ruined this kingdom,” he said, voice raising.  “The Gorons riot; the Zora are on the verge.  The capital is a broken shell.  The people live in fear.  And my people carry on without me.  They’ve never needed me.”

“My king, you–”

She cut herself off as he looked to her, giving her a savage smile.  “Shall I destroy you next, Sheik?”

Without waiting for an answer, he looked back at the dead flowers, the anger draining from him as quickly as it had appeared.   

“I just wanted,” he said quietly, “something that does not break with my touch.”

She took a step towards him.  He shook his head.

“Leave me,” he said.

Sheik would have obeyed.  He would consider this conversation evidence that Ganondorf was mad and needed to be deposed as soon as possible.

Zelda stayed.  She took another step to him, and rested a hand on his arm.  He looked down at her in surprise.

“I am here,” she said.  “Ganondorf.”

Neither of them said anything more.  But he did not move away.

Tomorrow, she thought, he would hate that he had shown her this weakness, would rage at her, or send her on a task that sent her far away.  And she would become Sheik once again, and hate him, and wish for the day the hero reappeared.

But for now, in this garden, she stayed and offered comfort to a man who, she was beginning to realize, loathed himself just as much as Sheik did Zelda.