#and whenever someone does leave somehow

[katierosefun]

obsessed with harvey in season 7 because you think that man can’t be any more disastrous but then he’s dating his therapist and inventing a new job for his boyfriend (cough) former employee who he hired illegally the first time around and he’s stressed and having a bad time and also his abandonment issues are still kicking and screaming in the background

[britneyshakespeare]

I had a dream I was following my work crush's Goodreads account. I didn't FIND it in the dream—I was already following it. A fascinating concept because I probably follow less than 10 accounts on Goodreads so I remember following every one of them, and he had his full ass name on there for some reason. And he was showing up on my feed because he has been very active going through lists of interesting lists I would frankly not expect the average young white man from New Hampshire to be reading, and marking things "want to read"

[starry-bi-sky]

nobody is safe hahaha! trust me if i had the spoons for it i'd be replying to everyone's tags, i am delighted to reply to them

#I really like your description of a Fully Ghost Danny#I think it fits him

character design is my favorite thing ever. the outfits themselves im not too good at sometimes, but the physical appearances are like. my favorite thing ever. Coming up with Fem Danyal's design was a treat. I put a claw at the end of her braid and turned her hair into a rope dart, it was fantastic.

Danny's ghost being permanently 14 is so tragic to me, but the ide of his ghost form fluctuating between ages only ust hit me as I was writing it and I thought it'd be neat as fuck ldshf. What age he appears at varies by a lot of different things including but not limited to his mood and attention.

#I also love the whole ‘making his first death more tragic by making him younger when it happened’ thing#it always makes reveals that much more tragic and I am HERE for it

FAIR. I'll be frank I did it here just so that I could have Danny meet Bruce when he was 14/13 and give them more family bonding time, but I fr wanna make more aus where his first death happens when he's a little younger. I forgot that it was just a thing I could just do if I wanted, and its reminded me my Mockingbird Au from when I was still active in Maribat.

And its so tragic! and uncomfortable for the people around Phantom! I'm just imagining little 11-12yr old phantom in a hazmat suit that's clearly meant for someone bigger than him, some of it slightly shrunk to fit better. Maybe there's some tragic reasoning behind it like the heat of the portal melted the suit a little bit so it fits danny a little better but is still visibly too big.

(Aw maybe when he's really upset his suit start to get all melty? I've thought a lot about the more horrific aspect of being basically cooked alive in between the doorway of two dimensions. I have this image of the arms become charred and skeletal like when he uses too much of his powers. The sleeves of his suit melting off and onto his skin in plastic chunks to reveal black-charred skeletal arms and hands underneath. I'll spare details on what I think his face looks like, except for the idea that he loses an eye and can roll the remaining one between sockets)

And he's got these long, slightly droopy elf ears that look slightly too big for him, highlighting just how young he is. They move too, pricking up when he hears something, pinning back when he feels a certain emotion. And of course the standard cosmetic changes like the glowing catlike green eyes and fluffy white hair that flicker and moves like an aurora borealis at the tips. And of course, the glowing star freckles.

Overall, him just blatantly looking like a child. It's a constant punch in the gut that this honest to god dead kid is the one protecting the city from harm.

#I also love that even though this is a ‘bad’ ending it still leaves us with a more bittersweet feeling than a depressing one

its about the clossuuurrreee.

#I wonder how the batfam would react to his age fluctuating tho#and how he was already halfway dead long before he fully died

confusion and heartbreak! someone would ask and danny gets all sheepish. he weighs his pros and cons and then reveals his Tragic Backstory™ and the Accident that turned him into a halfa. He explains he used to be a hero in his hometown, and that his godfather -- the one that poisoned him -- was his arch-nemesis.

Which, everyone just listens to with intent horror. It's like listening to a tragedy after its already long passed. A child hero -- first killed by his parents' irresponsibility -- murdered by his arch-nemesis, who happened to also be his godfather. He didn't have anyone to keep him safe; he was completely alone.

What's even worse is when Danny tells them that Vlad didn't even intend for Danny to die -- he poisoned him as a control tactic, but didn't think Danny would actually run away.

the guilt is thick in the air.

#I wonder if there would be a way for him to visit them/for them to visit him after the heroes get back to the living realm#like#maybe after the first incident some of the heroes get thrown back into the Infinite Realms#I’m not saying that it would be often#but it would definitely cause some angst and hijinks

i was thinking about this! I think it'd be kinda sweet. Danny doesn't stick around often, but Gotham has a few areas where the veil between the zone and the living world thins out. Once he learns where these shortcuts are, he occasionally pops by to say hi. Usually its only for a few minutes, and only if patrol is slow.

Occasionally he'll start showing up to specific world-ending threats, or if somehow a ghost slips through to the living realm he'll follow right after to curbstomp their ass back to it. Very specific mental image of this teeny 12 year old with stars in his hair cheerfully German Supplexing some Ares-wannabe ghost into the fucking pavement, before turning to the Justice League and saying "Hey guys! Don't worry, I've got this!"

I am loudly pushing the batdad agenda i am loudly pushing the— DPxDC Prompt

“Woah. You look like shit."

Granted, that’s probably not the first thing Danny should be saying to the guy that just bit the curb, but in his defense; he’s not running on 100% right now either.

The man -- tall, towering, and broader than Danny is tall -- whips around on his heel, black frayed cape flaring out impressively. Danny would've whistled in appreciation, but he takes the time instead to wipe the back of his hand across his mouth, smearing the blood running from his nose across his cheek.

"Sorry." He blinks widely, not even flinching as the man with the horns zeroes in on him. "That was rude of me. I have a really bad brain-to-mouth filter; Sam says its what always gets me into trouble."

And she's not wrong either, per say. His smart mouth is what landed him in this situation -- with blood blossom extract running through his veins and cannibalizing the ectoplasm in his bloodstream. Thanks Vlad.

The man grunts at him; a short, curt "hm" that shouldn't make Danny smile, but he does because he's somewhat delirious and probably concussed. The man keeps some kind of distance, sinking towards the shadows of Gotham's alleyway like he dares to melt right into it.

If it's supposed to scare Danny, it doesn't work. Danny's never been afraid of the dark; he's always been able to hide himself in it. He blinks slowly at the mass of shadows.

"You look hurt." The shadows says, blurring together around the edges. Danny squints, and licks his lips to get the blood dripping down his chin off. Ugh, he hates the taste of blood.

"I am." He says, "My godfather poisoned me. M'dying." The agony of the blood blossom eating him from the inside out looped back around to numbing a while ago, so all he feels is half-awake and dazed.

"Hey," Danny stumbles forward towards the man, a bloodied hand reaching out to him. "You-- you're a hero, right? You're not attacking me; which is more than I can say for most costumed people I've met." Maybe it's a poor bar to judge someone at, but he's already established that Danny's not in his right mind.

The man makes no change in expression, but Danny realizes blearily that it's hard to tell with the shadows on his face. He stays still long enough for Danny to latch onto the cape -- stretchy, but almost soft under his fingers.

He looks up blearily into the whites of the man's eyes. "Can you help me? I don't-- I don't wanna die." Again. He doesn't wanna die again. He blinks slow and lizard-like. "I mean- I'll probably get to see mom and dad again, but I told them I'd at least try and make it to adulthood."

There's a clatter down the street, and Danny's ghost sense chills up his spine and leaves a bitter, ashy taste in his mouth. He immediately knows who it belongs to even before the deceptively gentle; "Daniel?" echoes down the way.

"Daniel? Quit your games, badger, Gotham is dangerous for children."

Danny's mouth pulls back, and blood spills against his tongue. "Please." He rasps, and grabs onto the shadow's cape with both hands. "Please. He's going to kill me. Please--"

"Daniel? Is that you?"

His lips part, dragging in air to plead with the darkness again. He doesn't need to, the whites of his eyes narrow, and the cape whirls around him before Danny can blink. Soon swaddled in shadows, the Night lifts him up, and steals him away.

[ghostedbunnie]

trouble comes in fours

tf141 x fem!reader reader wants to get rid of her ex and tf141 might have the perfect scare factor

imagine that your ex simply can't take a hint and keeps creeping on your social media so in a desperate attempt to get rid of him the only way you know is gonna work is to scare him off with a new guy. someone he can't even think off challenging.

on a night out with your friends you are venting out your frustrations about it. while you are in the middle of retelling the last time he tried to slide into your DMs the door to the bar open and you can feel the air shift.

the group of 4 guys walk in. most of them have to duck their heads through the doorway. when they settle into a quieter corner that seems to have a great vantage point to overlook the entirety of the bar your friend nudges you. "looks like 4 possible solutions to your problem just walked in."

your eyes go wide and you sputter out that there is no way. the thought of sending a drink to any of them is almost as terrifying as shoving your head into a tank full of piranhas.

the night continues and with every drink, your fear gives into curiousity. what's the worst thing they could do? bring it back? you can just leave before that happens. the alcohol and your friends chip away at you for few minutes before you gather up the courage. you honestly don't even know which one of them you're sending the drink to.

there's a loud pretty boy with a slightly overgrown mohawk wildly gesturing and retelling some story from the looks of it. when the dim light catch his eyes just right they almost glint silver.

another one but great deal calmer sits opposite, he has a killer smile with slight dimples. just the sight of those dimples could make panties drop.

next to him is a possibly older guy around 40s you'd wager, you can't see his face clearly because half of it is hidden underneath a hat and the other under a very impressive beard. but even from the little you can see the rug burn from that beard would definitely be worth it. simply based on the commanding air around him.

in the corner next to the loud-mouth sits a shadow. honestly in your slight drunk daze you almost missed him in his dark hoodie, pants and face mask. you don't see him drink but the drink in front of him does magically disappear anyway. and whenever you turn around from gawking you swear you can feel someone's stare. but as you get the chills you tell yourself it's probably the a/c blaring.

imagine your surprise when the bartender sends 4 drinks to the table and when you look back to asses the situation you have 4 (well 3 as the big boy in the corner doesn't touch the drink but inclines his head at you) miming a clinking motion while sipping on the drinks.

the mortification doesn't end because when your friends abandon you for some more dance time and you turn to get up to the bathroom you walk straight into a hard chest of the pretty boy. he calms your apologies from running into him with a smile. "wanted ta thank you for the drink, bonnie."

heat rushes to your face as you try to somehow talk your way out of this mess because what seemed like a great idea when your head was swimming with 9 drinks is starting to seem a lot worse now that you are slowly sobering up.

"nothing ta worry 'bout. come sit with us. it feels wrong to keep a bonnie lass like yerself all alone."

next up: simon's ver. // others are coming soon

[okwonyo]

日语─── BEST PART ❜

RIPIRDENRE ੭୧ 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝖼𝗈𝗅𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗀𝗎𝖾𝗌 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝗅𝗂𝖿𝖾.

husband!enhypen & wife!reader 8OO non-idol au fluff established relationship 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏｡ mention of kissing

지아 ⠀⦂⠀credit to my amazing girlfriend kimibae for the idea ><

✶ rbs&feedbacks！ DAILY ˊᯅˋ archive

HEESEUNG it happens when he is talking to his colleagues— his phone rings inside of his pocket and, as if it was a national instinct, he takes it immediately. he doesn’t hesitate much before accepting the call when your name appears, leaving his colleagues hanging. “yes, baby?” he answers, in the softest tone anyone has witnessed him use before. it’s something he only does with you, picking up the phone no matter what. no matter where he is or what he is doing, if you call, you can be sure that he will always answer. his abrupt disappearance makes the people he was talking to a tad bit confused. they ask him who he was talking to as soon as he comes back. “who?” he smiles. “i was talking to my wife.”

JAY “what are you doing here, princess?” he smiles gently, resting his back on his chair’s backseat— getting comfortable as soon as he sees you. with a happy expression on your face, you walk toward your husband. you hold the lunchbox in your hands in a way that makes his heart swell, with such love and care that he might melt. “you forget your lunch at home, so i bought it to you.” he lets you settle yourself on his laps as you talk, “am i bothering you?” and he can’t tell you that he left his lunchbox on purpose, just to see you. “no, i love your visits.” so, it’s never really confirmed or said out loud (until a work party), but the way he looks at you, the shining ring on his finger says it all.

JAKE there isn’t a day where he stays quiet— he is always bringing your name up somehow. in every conversation he has, no matter how brief they can be, you will always get mentioned at some point of it. therefore, he is the first to find it a bit surprising when people find out that is married to you, several months after the wedding happened. people ask him with wide eyes about what he means by ‘my wife’ and he looks at them with the exact same expression. “well, i am married?” he answers, as if it was obvious. to his defense, he really thought it was. to his words, he adds the action of showing off his ring when he speak again, “i have a wife, i talk about her all the time. do you even listen to me?”

SUNGHOON doesn’t talk about you much. although, you are on his mind from the moment he wakes up to when he closes his eyes at night— he likes to protect his privacy at all costs. however, when he gets married, he assumes that everyone already knows about it. the ring on his finger accompanied by your picture on his desk makes it quite obvious (he even catches himself staring at either of them quite often). he discovers that it’s not the case at all when he tells his colleagues about how he has to leave early because he has a date. he’s bewildered when someone asks him with whom, he thinks they are joking at first, but it doesn’t seem like it. “with my wife?”

SUNOO your husband is handsome. you’d say that he is pretty, ethereal even. you know that already— how gorgeous he is and how magnetic is aura can be. so, it doesn’t surprise you when he tells you that his colleagues spend half of their time trying to match him up with someone and the other half hitting on him with barely any shame. he always denies their offer with a sweet laugh—until he comes back from his honeymoon. he looks refreshed, he can’t stop smiling whenever he thinks about you, which makes him ten times more attractive. this time, when someone tells him that one of his colleagues likes him, he denies again but with a brand new formula. “i am a married man, now.”

JUNGWON can’t leave home without the satisfaction of your lips touching his. even if it’s not necessarily his lips, he wants a kiss somewhere on him. your complaints about how it’ll ruin your lip combo or take off your lipstick doesn’t affect him at all. your husband gets a kiss from his wife no matter what. sometimes, he even leaves before you can tell him that your lipstick is on his mouth, because he shuts you up with another peck before running away. usually, he notices it and take it off but not today. this time, it’s when one of his colleagues asks him who he got those stains from that he remembers. “oh, it must have been from my wife.”

RIKI he doesn’t understand why people don’t believe whenever he brings you up. he always talks about you— while making sure the use the term ‘my wife’ ever since you got married. however, it doesn’t seem to get into his colleagues’ head, for some reason that he either doesn’t know or that doesn’t make any sense. “i can’t go out with you guys today,” he tells his colleagues, already looking for his car somewhere in the parking lot— his mind is only focused in on coming home to you. “my wife is waiting for me at home.” today he decides to directly show pictures of your wedding when they ask what he is talking about. he was right, ‘but you are so young!’ is a stupid argument.

taglist open + net— @sgz-net

[purple-plum-petals]

Pleaseeee can you fo more homicipher reaction to mc who is very cheerful in every situation like shes either giggling or smiling, she's so unserious and oblivious af too.

⊱ Homicipher Characters’ Reactions to an MC Who Is Cheerful and Oblivious ⊰ || Multiple Character Headcanons

╭─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╮ Character(s): Mr. Crawling, Mr. Chopped, Mr. Machete, Mr. Hood, Mr. Scarletella (Homicipher/文字化化) Reader Type: Human (Gender-Neutral Pronouns) Warning(s): Minor Spoilers for Homicipher (Mr. Scarletella’s Part), Minor Canon-typical Mentions of Violence. Genre: Headcanons, Fluff, Romantic or Platonic Relationship (It’s Complicated, honestly). Word Count: ~2,100 words. Request: “Pleaseeee can you fo more homicipher reaction to mc who is very cheerful in every situation like shes either giggling or smiling, she's so unserious and oblivious af too.” Author’s Note: This was such a fun request to think about since a human like this existing within the other world would pretty much be a living, walking target – like, you’d probably be dead so quickly if you were oblivious or naïve or too trusting (like me when I first played through the game and was smiling every time a hot monster man talked to me 😭). Since you didn’t specify any characters, I just picked a handful that I thought would have varying reactions to the type of reader you requested. I hope you enjoy! 

→ If you enjoyed my work, please reblog it if you can! Exposure on Tumblr is based on reblogging content rather than liking it, so your support would be much appreciated!  ♡

╰─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╯

👣: Mr. Crawling loves your cheerful and friendly personality, finding it a breath of fresh air within the other world. It draws him to you even more, like a moth to a bright flame. He likes how you sometimes just randomly giggle or laugh. He does it, too, so it’s nice to meet someone so similar to him! He definitely feels this sense of kinship with you when he notices all the similarities you two share. Mr. Crawling does everything in his power to keep you safe, wanting to protect you from everything or everyone attempting to harm you in the hopes you don’t lose that sparkle – that light within you.

👣: He’s already very protective of you, and your obliviousness to the other world and its residents makes that feeling even stronger. He is aware that your friendly and trusting nature will be taken advantage of in the world he calls his home, so he somehow manages to take a more proactive role when it comes to keeping you safe… if that was even possible (it’s ON SITE if he sees Mr. Stitch near you. Mr. Crawling knows how that particular resident acts, and he would prefer not to have him kidnap or try to eat you…). 

👣: Whenever you laugh, he also laughs �� you do the same thing with him, too, so you both kind of bounce off of each other and act like the other’s personal echo. Any other resident who sees the two of you kind of thinks you have a few screws loose, watching from afar while you both just randomly laugh together without a care in the world. Honestly, Mr. Crawling thinks it’s nice to be able to laugh with someone else like this. 

👣: Overall, your personality manages to make him love you even more (if that was even possible). Mr. Crawling does everything in his power to make sure you never stop smiling, never once making you feel like you’re not supposed to laugh even if it may not be seen as appropriate in the situation. He doesn’t care that sometimes your obliviousness results in both of you finding yourselves between a rock and a hard place. He will be there by your side until the day you tell him to leave – his love for you is unconditional, and that’s just a fact no matter what kind of person you are. 

🗣️: Much like Mr. Crawling, Mr. Chopped also finds himself immensely endeared to you and your personality. He loves how happy you are all the time, and he finds his mood improving whenever you’re around, too! It’s wonderful to have someone like you around, someone who is always so cheerful and upbeat, especially considering the place you have found yourself trapped in. He appreciates it – appreciates you, as a whole – but that doesn’t mean he has no reservations about your personality… 

🗣️: His anxiety spikes whenever he thinks too much about what you were potentially getting up to whenever he wasn’t around, worried about you getting taken advantage of or giggling at the wrong question and ending up injured, or worse, dead. He really enjoys spending time with you, you’re like a ray of sunlight in such a dark place, and the thought of that being gone after having just experienced it is… quite an unpleasant thought (he doesn’t know what sunlight is, but he can vaguely remember a yellow warmth from a time long forgotten that you remind him of). If he had a body, he’d probably be ripping his beloved hair out just because of how oblivious you can be. 

🗣️: Mr. Chopped is definitely the type to just start scolding you point-blank, telling you that you need to be more careful – his beautiful hair is going to turn grey at this point with how often he worries about you! Please don’t make him worry… It’s not good for his metaphorical heart. He even lectures you about how he typically tells the difference between people he can trust (like you, Mr. Silvair, the Hairdresser) versus people he knows he can’t trust (like the Hooded Child or Mr. Stitch) in the hopes it will have you thinking about your safety more. 

🗣️: Sometimes he feels a sense of helplessness whenever he thinks about you and the fact he can’t do anything to keep you safe; it’s something he opens up about to Mr. Silvair whenever you’re not around. Mr. Chopped finds himself wishing that he had a body, even though you had assured him he was perfectly fine in your eyes without one. He just wants to help and protect you the way that others you knew were capable of doing. Whenever you sense he’s feeling down, though, your bright smile is enough to wash away his worries about your well-being, even if only for a moment. 

🔪: Doesn’t understand why you’re so chipper all the time. Honestly, I feel like Mr. Machete would find it annoying, the fact you’re always smiling or giggling at one thing or another. He’ll purposefully chuck his sword at you in the hopes that it will scare you, make you wipe that stupid smile off your face, but it never does… It falters a bit, sure, but it never fully goes away, and that just pisses him off more.  

🔪: He kind of makes it his mission to try and break you, to see how or what he can do to finally make you get angry or upset. After all, you never really fight back when he tries to start things with you, and that’s boring. He wants you to get frustrated at him, wants to see you throw a punch or try to hit him after another attempt at making your smile disappear, yet you never do. You remain smiling, and you’re oh-so blinding whenever you do, and he hates it. He hates you (or does he? He isn’t even sure himself… emotions are too complicated).

🔪: Overall, Mr. Machete has mixed feelings toward you. He can respect the strength it takes to keep a smile on your face, to remain positive and happy in a place filled to the brim with violence and death… That doesn’t mean he likes it, though, hearing your laughter whenever he does something you find endearing or if you see something you find amusing. It’s a sound that's headache-inducing, yet it also makes him want to pick you up and squeeze you (I’m a firm believer that he would have cuteness aggression). He has a love-hate relationship with you. 

🔪: Mr. Machete also finds himself fed up with your obliviousness and naïvety, especially regarding other residents. He’s getting sick and tired of you finding yourself in trouble and, when it finally sets in you’re in danger, you call to him for help. Why the hell are you calling for him? You got yourself into this mess, and you’ll figure out a way to get out of it… Well, that’s what he says, but he usually takes care of whatever resident you found yourself in a conflict with, or he tosses you effortlessly over one shoulder and absconds if he doesn’t think it’s a fight he can win (don’t ask him why he even bothers saving you – he doesn’t know the answer, either). 

🪓: Your cheerful and peppy attitude, the way you’re always smiling brightly and warmly at everyone you meet, makes Mr. Hood feel both endeared to you and worried about you. You do realize you just agreed to give that resident your heart, right? If he wasn’t here, you most certainly would have died, and that’s not exactly a thought he wants to entertain. He felt protective over you since the first moment you met, and that feeling had not died down once (even if looking after you had made him feel like he’d aged a century). 

🪓: Always places himself between you and other residents when you attempt to communicate with them, using himself as a shield just in case you accidentally agree to something absurd or laugh at the wrong thing. Mr. Hood really shifts into teaching mode after cases like these, making sure you know exactly what certain words mean and when not to laugh, smile, or blindly agree to things. Honestly, if you were oblivious and overly trusting, he would feel it was his duty to stay by your side at all times and would be worried about what would happen if he left you alone.  

🪓: However, despite the persisting feeling of worry your personality and some of your traits bring him when watching you interacting with most of the other residents, he can’t help but enjoy your presence. It’s new, and he surprisingly likes hearing the sound of your laughter. He finds your personality and behaviors to be cute, even though they bring you trouble more often than not. Most of the time, sometimes unconsciously, Mr. Hood finds himself resting his hand on the top of your head, patting it softly whenever you look up and smile at him so brightly. 

🪓: Mr. Hood, despite finding that your obliviousness and your inability to take most things seriously typically ends up with you winding up in troublesome situations that could have been easily avoided, he still wouldn’t change a single thing about you (he has no problem staining his hands with more blood to keep you safe – killing residents while protecting you at the same time is something he’s good at, after all). Your smile is just too bright, your laugh almost infectious, and all he wants to do is make sure it never fades. He feels a strange ache in his chest whenever you take his hands into yours and tug him along, laughing all the way. He doesn’t understand it, but he also doesn’t have the desire to understand it, either.  

🩸: Your personality intrigues him, and he finds himself desiring to know what you’re thinking about. What makes you so happy? How can you continue to travel through the other world, facing one traumatic event after another, with a smile constantly plastered on your face? A person like you is new to Mr. Scarletella, and he wants to be around you more. He wants to figure out how he can be the person making you smile and laugh in such a way – he wants to be able to bathe in the warmth and brightness your aura radiates. 

🩸: Mr. Scarletella doesn’t make his presence known most of the time throughout your journey, but he watches you from afar, keeping an eye on you. However, if he does need to step in to keep you from harm, he will. Your reaction to him is unlike anyone else he's met, though. Most people who saw the man with the red umbrella would scream and run the other way, terrified of the story that was intertwined with his existence, but you didn’t. Honestly, it makes him want you more – you’re new, you’re different – and he likes it… likes you. There’s something about the sound of your laughter and your happy-go-lucky nature that makes him feel alive, in a way. 

🩸: However, because of your obliviousness and naïvety, when he asks for your name and you just give it to him without a second thought… well, it makes his goal a lot easier. If I’m being 100% honest, being oblivious or overly trusting around Mr. Scarletella is not a good mix. Because he finds you interesting and different from other humans he’s seen before, he’s pleased that you’re his now – heart, body, and soul. You forget everything about yourself after, though, and he doesn’t find you as appealing as he once did (he low-key kind of regrets asking for your name). 

🩸: For feel-good purposes, though, we’ll just ignore the last point and continue with the fluff… So, overall, Mr. Scarletella would find you fascinating and would find himself wanting to be near you in any capacity, whether it be as your master or your servant, he wouldn’t care so long as he got to be with you. He honestly wonders how you’ve managed to live for as long as you have considering your general attitude towards most things, but he’s glad that you did. Being with you makes his lungs feel like they’re full of fresh air, and he gets a pleasant tingling sensation in his body whenever he hears your laughter echo through the dilapidated hallways of the other world. 

[nmakii]

GETTING CAUGHT IN THE MOMENT… LIPSTICK ON YOUR FACE

— alastor + lucifer + vox getting caught with lipstick stains all over them…

— generally gn!reader. guys can wear lipstick too smh

hehe i got a new lip tint (˶‾᷄ ⁻̫ ‾᷅˵) maybe alastor’s part is a little self-projected

— alastor

alastor himself isn’t one for physical affection. in fact, the thought itself makes him feel dirty. someone else’s skin against his… eugh…

though, when it came to you, he couldn’t keep his hands to himself; hands clawing and playing with your hair, wrapping his arms around your neck, pinching your cute cheeks, holding your hand… it’s almost as if he’d double-die without you near!

and the only thing he’d enjoy more than that would be having his affection reciprocated; interlocking your arm with his, a surprise hug from behind, a kiss on the cheek, they are all more than appreciated! especially the thing about kissing…

a kiss from you is simply just exhilarating. the suddenness yet sweetness of it, it’s truly the purest form of love, regardless of if it’s familial, romantic, or platonic— it’s the purest expression of your love for another person.

so, just imagine alastor’s reaction to your new lipstick, strawberry red to give your lips a glossy color, yet still light enough to appear natural. the pretty hue of red complimenting your face features perfectly by giving it the color it needs as to not appear pale.

absolutely gorgeous. so confusing how a simple amount of color could make you look as if you were an angel from heaven itself. you quite literally took his breath away from just applying a new lipstick…

at some point, alastor had reached some sort of limit when he finally caved into his inner desires, bringing you to a secluded place in the hotel, his hands moving to your hips and hair.

he couldn’t wait any longer to place his lips on your’s, your lipstick smearing all over his thin lips. kissing him from his cheeks to his jawline, leaving light pink stains all over his skin.

he groaned at the feeling of wet lipstick all over his face, and at the same time reveled in the ways you are telling everyone that the only one who could see the radio demon in such a needy and doe-like state would be you; he’d be yours to fool around with, and yours to do however you’d see fit. just as you are his— no one else’s. the smeared lipstick on the side of your lips should send that as a statement enough to whatever lowlife hooligan would even attempt to sweep you off your feet.

when the two of you had returned, it was a strange sight to say the least… alastor’s face and jaw covered with pink lips, and you with your lipstick smudged and smeared off your lips, instead all over you neck.

“well, uh… you two look like ‘ya had lot’sa fun…” angel said monotonously, awkwardly trying to keep up conversation. “ohh, most certainly!” alastor grinned, his transatlantic accent popping through the radio static.

he knows he could’ve wiped it off… he has a handkerchief in his back pocket, he could’ve easily saved himself that awkward conversation.

but, he didn’t.

could you blame him? he wants all of hell to know that both you and him off-limits for good.

— lucifer

when many imagine the king of hell, it’s hard to think he’d be a social piranha. the same case had gone for you.

who knew lucifer was still as pure of heart as he was during his time in heaven? and who knew he’d fall for someone so easily after the sudden disappearance of his wife?

when he saw you, it was practically love at first sight! your big eyes, your shiny hair, and those big pretty lips of yours that he just wanted to kiss so badly…

he listened carefully as charlie introduced you to him, trying to remember every detail about you and every feature on your face, stuttering over his words once it was time to speak for himself.

and somehow, despite his meekness towards you and your awkwardness whenever he was around, you two ended up in a relationship— with the help of vaggie and charlie’s meddling in pushing you two together.

the two of you loved each other, of course… but it was always hard to express. the only way lucifer knew how to show his love was through his presence and gifts. he wasn’t hell’s greatest kisser, but he tries.

and, today— it was your 5 month anniversary… quite a long time, the hotel’s been good so far, no major threats other than one of cherri bomb’s occasional explosions. and because of how long it’s been, you decided to do something a little special… put on some relatively expensive clothes and make-up your face a little bit.

when lucifer saw you all dolled up, he was honestly a little stunned. lips as red as an apple, hair as soft as silk, the words were stuck in his mouth. “w- er- wow..! i’m not dressed up or anything— agh, this is awkward..” lucifer muttered. “hey, it’s ok… this was a surprise for you, y’know?” you said, comforting him slightly.

“you look… stunning today” he smiled, carefully putting down his anniversary present for you on his work desk, still wrapped in a red ribbon. he made his way to you, hands making their way to your cheeks to softly cup them as he gently leaned into you for a kiss.

he released a breath he didn’t know he had been holding as you kissed his face all over, as if healing the wounds of his past with his present. his banishment into hell, lilith’s abandonment, they all didn’t matter anymore, you are the present and the future.

he wrapped his arms around your waist in a hug as he kissed your forehead, the residual lipstick from his lips smeared onto you.

lucifer laughed awkwardly before using his finger to carefully rub off the pink stains on your forehead. “haha… c’mon, i got a dinner reservation in the lust ring tonight…” he laughed, interlocking his arm with yours.

“don’t you wanna take off that lipstick on your face first?” you raised an eyebrow at him. “i mean… i dont minddd… so, it’s only if you wanna take if off” his eyes wandered, his cheeks growing flustered “hmm… nah. i want everyone to know you belong to me now.” you grinned mischievously.

and when the two of you walked out of the hotel lobby, charlie went to wish you a safe trip and happy anniversary before she noticed the stains on her dad’s face. “err… dad..? you gotta a little something there…” charlie muttered as she pointed all over his face. “ah..? yeah, i know” he laughed it off, proudly showing off to hell how hopelessly devoted he is to you.

— vox

vox was a busy man. from having many public appearances, to coming up with new ideas for voxtek, to putting out valentino’s temper tantrums, he barely had the time for romance.

barely. he loved you, truly. he keeps you dear to his heart, no matter how busy he’d be, vox would still make time for you late at night.

everyone had known you, why wouldn’t they? you’re the partner of one of the most influential overlords in hell, that’s a feat that is amazing to accomplish, dating vox in itself has made you into a sort of local celebrity; causing you to be invited to many galas, parties, and occasional raves.

and tonight happened to be the night of one of those parties. zestial had invited you to a formal dinner party, an all star guest list filled by many of the goetic princes, various overlords in hell, and other local hellborns such as verosika mayday.

“please, voxxx? just this once, it’s only like 3 hours!” you grumble as your apply a coat of ruby red over your lips, checking your appearance in the bathroom mirror. “i can’t.. i have a 5:00 with val and velvette, then after that, a board meeting about new gadgets to release…” vox groaned, already pissed about the day ahead.

“fine then, your loss.” you pouted, rolling your eyes as you left the bathroom and into the bedroom. “holy shit…” vox sighed out. “you look… really good, my love.” he walked over to you, his hands moving to your body, outlining the clothes’ stitching as he recognized it to be the one he had custom-made for you.

your hands rested on vox’s shoulders, forcibly making him lean over a bit before leaving various kiss stains all over his screen.

vox visibly tensed as his screen started glowing a bright teal, showing his clear embarrassment as pink smudges fogged his screen.

his breath heaved as his hands moved all around your body, desperate to find some kind of relief to his pent-up stress.

ending your kiss attack all too soon on his lips, you pulled away, your lips slightly pale now as you grinned at him. “spend the day looking like that and i’ll give you more after work” you winked, taking your belongings and leaving out the door, leaving a flustered vox in your bedroom, covered with lipstick stains.

“vox… the fuck is going on with your face?” velvette snarled. “it looks as if you got fucking mauled by a bear pretending to be a woman.” she yelled, her british accent making her trip over some consonants.

vox sighed, hearing valentino mutter some sort of dirty comparison of vox to a prostitute. “instead of focusing on me, why don’t you put your efforts into our agenda today?” vox frowned, his tone clearly saying that he’s holding himself back from releasing a flood of curses onto the two…

[dksfml]

off my face - yjw

pairing: jungwon x reader genre: soulmate au, mega FLUFF word count: 6.6k summary: in a world where each person has a soulmate mark indicating where they will be touched by their soulmate for the first time, there’s jungwon—the soccer team captain you’d like to be ruined by forever—who has no soulmate mark at all. what does that make you, someone whose mark has changed color because of him? author's note: finally!! here's your most awaited blond jungwon fic that i skipped sleep for<3333 inspired by this amazing prompt my friend sent me.

One touch and you got me stoned. Higher than I've ever known. You call the shots and I follow. Sunrise, but the night still young. No words, but we speak in tongues. If you let me, I might say too much.

You sat near the front row, posture perfect, eyes narrowed as Professor Min’s lecture on ancient mythology took a surprising turn. Today’s topic wasn’t just history—it was soulmate lore, the mysterious marks everyone was born with, and the myths that surrounded them. The professor’s calm, seasoned voice filled the room, but the air buzzed with barely contained excitement. Everyone was alert, even the usual back-row whisperers, captivated by the promise of something rare: a sanctioned discussion about their most private marks.

“These soulmate marks,” Professor Min began, his gaze sweeping the room with a faint smile, “are said to be the final traces of a bond forged in a past life. Legends tell us that in each lifetime, we may be separated from our soulmates, lost to distance or circumstance. But the marks,” he gestured to his own faintly darkened palm, “are said to be the soul’s way of leaving a trail—a reminder.”

A murmur rippled through the room. Everyone had a mark, a small patch of inky darkness, as distinct as fingerprints, mapped out on their bodies. Some had them on their palms or fingertips, waiting for the day a handshake or brush of fingers would light up that mark with color. Others had them in more curious places, whispering of fated touches in the most unlikely moments.

"The legend says," Professor Min continued, "that these marks were painted by one’s soulmate in a past life, a vow made in hopes to meet again, to find each other across time."

You clenched your pen a little tighter, the faint tickle of wonder battling the urge to keep your expression blank and unfeeling. You’d always kept your interest in soulmate marks private. They seemed so full of mystery, and the idea of your soulmate waiting for you somewhere was oddly… reassuring. You glanced down, conscious of the mark behind your knee, hidden like a strange secret that even you could barely understand. What kind of first touch would even reach there? The thought was both amusing and baffling, and you stifled a wry smile.

Around you, other students leaned in to chat, loud enough that their conversations blended into a steady hum. Your classmate Arin nudged her friend, laughing as she displayed the faint mark on her palm. “I’ve been dying to know who’ll shake my hand one day,” she whispered excitedly, her eyes glimmering with hope.

But your gaze drifted just beyond Arin, landing instead on a familiar figure lounging in the middle row with his legs stretched out, looking every bit like he was born to disrupt things without lifting a finger. Jungwon. Handsome in a way that seemed almost unfair, with striking, dark eyes framed by lashes that cast subtle shadows on his cheeks, and hair the color of midnight that fell in soft, tousled waves. He had this effortless, magnetic presence that drew people toward him, like he knew he didn’t need to try.

As captain of the soccer team and one of the most well-known faces on campus, Jungwon somehow managed to look both sharp and relaxed, as if the attention his looks or reputation brought him meant nothing. You’d been crushing on him since last year, an avid fan always present at his games, cheering him on like a lovesick fool. Whenever he scored a goal, you felt your heart leap, and you couldn’t help but unleash your inner fangirl, your excitement spilling over as you screamed his name. Right now, he seemed half-listening to his friends, a hint of a lazy grin tugging at the corners of his mouth as he leaned back, eyes drifting up to the ceiling before refocusing on his friends. It was that easygoing confidence that made him impossible not to notice—and, for you, impossible not to think about.

It was a boy from his friend group, Jay, who interrupted the class chatter by slapping a hand down on the table and teasing, “Come on, Won. You don’t have a soulmate mark, my foot. No one gets off that easy.” The comment was light-hearted but loaded, and more than a few students turned to look.

To your surprise, Jungwon didn’t react with one of his usual witty comebacks or careless shrugs. Instead, he just rubbed the back of his neck, a hint of something almost vulnerable flashing across his face. “No, really,” he insisted, almost apologetically. “I don’t have one. I checked a million times as a kid.”

Your pen paused mid-note, and a slight, irrational disappointment prickled in your chest. It was hard to believe, especially about someone like Jungwon, whose very presence seemed destined to leave a mark on others. Soulmate marks might be rare, but someone like him not having one? It felt impossible, like a missing piece that no one noticed until it was too late.

For a fleeting moment, you wondered if maybe he just hadn’t found it yet. After all, some people only discovered their mark when it finally turned to color. Sometimes it wasn’t a visible spot on the skin but something far subtler—a shadow in the hue of their lips that would only brighten after a first kiss, or a darkness lingering in an eye, invisible until the gentle touch of someone wiping away their tears brought it to life. The thought sent a strange warmth to your cheeks as you glanced back toward him, wondering if Jungwon’s missing mark was just waiting for the right person to unlock it.

Still, he looked surprisingly honest, a faint hint of sadness clouding his otherwise bright gaze. For someone so magnetic, it was as if he was caught drifting in space, without any tether connecting him to anyone at all.

“Alright, alright,” Jay relented, raising his hands in surrender but laughing all the same. “Guess someone’s too cool to be fated to anyone, huh?”

The professor’s voice cut back in, and you forced yourself to refocus, though your mind lingered on Jungwon’s quiet expression and the flicker of something in his eyes, something both resigned and deeply private. Could he really be alone in a world where everyone else was bound to someone?

“Imagine having your mark on your knuckles,” Arin whispered beside you with a grin, oblivious to the moment that had just passed. “You’d probably knock your soulmate out before you even realized they were ‘the one’!”

Another round of laughter scattered through the room, like a shared inside joke. The air felt charged, as if everyone were suddenly curious about each other’s marks, glancing around with new eyes. You let out a small sigh, tapping your pen against your notebook with a faint smile. As much as you tried to keep up the class president, model-student act, the idea of soulmates fascinated you in a way you’d never quite admit.

When the bell finally rang, the room filled with that familiar end-of-class chaos. You started packing up, keeping your head down—until you noticed Jungwon slinging his bag over his shoulder, looking effortlessly put-together, as usual. He laughed at something his friend said, his expression relaxed, his dark eyes flickering with amusement. But you couldn’t help catching the faintest flicker of something else in his gaze as he glanced at his friends—like a momentary, unguarded look that felt… wistful?

Okay, maybe that was just you being overly imaginative.

You let out a little huff as you slung your own bag over your shoulder, shaking off the strange pity you’d felt moments before. So what if Jungwon didn’t have a mark? You barely even knew him. Well, you kind of knew him, but from a distance—and with way more daydreams than you’d like to admit. Still, it was silly to wonder about him, right? With your head full of these thoughts, you walked out into the hallway, lost in a world where maybe, just maybe, he was wondering about you, too.

And as you brushed past a group of friends, laughing and shoving each other, your hand slipped over the back of your knee, where your own mark was hidden—quiet, waiting, and as mysterious as ever.

The sky was an endless blue, stretching wide over the school field as your class spilled out onto the grass for PE. With the teacher conveniently on vacation, today’s instructions were simple: enjoy the free time. Most of your classmates took to the field, breaking off into little clusters for a lazy game of soccer, light stretches, or simple gossip sessions by the bleachers.

As class president, you took it upon yourself to ensure no one went too far or caused trouble. Your duty, as you saw it, was to survey your classmates from a slight distance, keeping an eye out with the calm, serious gaze you’d carefully perfected. Yet even from the sidelines, your eyes found themselves drifting toward a familiar figure on the field, drawn to him like magnets.

Jungwon was at the center of the field with his friends, casual and relaxed, but his every move carried an elegance that made your pulse skip. He was laughing at something his friend said, his eyes crinkling as he kicked the soccer ball back and forth, the glint of a confident smirk tugging at his lips. His ease on the field was mesmerizing, a mixture of strength and grace that made it hard to look away.

You reminded yourself to focus, scanning the field to check on the other groups. But before you could pull your attention back entirely, a voice called out, and you saw Jungwon pivot to chase the soccer ball—only for it to ricochet off his foot, headed directly toward you with alarming speed.

In the split second it took you to react, you felt a sharp thud against the back of your knees. The impact sent you stumbling forward, knees buckling beneath you as you tumbled to the ground. Pain flared up where the ball had struck, but it was drowned out by the shock of it all.

“Oh no—are you okay?” Jungwon’s voice was breathless with concern, his steps hurried as he reached you. You barely had a chance to process his arrival before he knelt beside you, face flushed and clearly panicked. His hand hovered awkwardly as if afraid to touch you, his usual calm replaced with something far more vulnerable.

“I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to— Are you hurt?” he stammered, his voice unusually soft. He reached out gently, his hands carefully brushing against your arm as he tried to help you up. “Can you stand?”

Your mind struggled to catch up to the moment, and it took everything you had to keep your stoic demeanor intact. Jungwon was close, closer than he’d ever been, and the intensity of his worried gaze was unexpectedly disarming. Even as pain pulsed through your knee, you couldn’t help but stare, captivated by how intensely he focused on you, as if everything else in the world had fallen away.

“I’m fine, really,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. But as soon as you tried to stand, pain shot up your leg.

Jungwon’s expression shifted to one of determination, and before you could protest, he slid one arm under your knees and lifted you up, his other arm around your shoulders. The world tilted as he held you in a firm, steady grip, his face barely inches from yours. “We’re getting you to the nurse. No arguments.”

You blinked, momentarily stunned by his closeness, by the warmth radiating from him. “Oh—okay.” The words left your mouth almost on instinct, your brain still catching up with the fact that Jungwon was carrying you, his focus set entirely on you. His hands brushed your arm as he adjusted his grip, and you felt a strange warmth bloom under your skin, something unfamiliar and electric.

The walk to the nurse’s office was quiet, but you couldn’t ignore the way his gaze flickered to you, the gentleness in his expression as he murmured, “Sorry again. I’d never forgive myself if I hurt the class president.”

Your lips parted, searching for something to say, but the way he looked at you—soft, maybe even a bit shy—left you wordless. All you could do was nod, your heart pounding louder with each step as you held onto the feeling of his arms around you, wondering if he could hear it too.

It wasn’t until you glanced down that you noticed it—a faint shift of color beneath your knee where the ball had struck. The mark, once hidden and dark, now radiated a subtle but unmistakable bright yellow hue, soft and warm against your skin.

You froze, eyes wide, as the realization settled in. Jungwon was still mumbling apologies, unaware of the discovery you’d just made. Only he could have caused the mark to change; he was the only one who had touched that spot. The idea left you breathless, your mind scrambling to make sense of it all.

In the clinic, the nurse examined your knee with a quick, professional assessment. “You’ll be fine,” she declared, sending you off with an ice pack and a faint smile. But your thoughts were still racing, tangled up in the startling realization that Jungwon might actually be your soulmate.

The whole walk back to class, you replayed the moment in your mind, trying to make sense of it. Maybe it was a coincidence. Perhaps someone had brushed the back of your knee at some other time, and you simply hadn’t noticed. But deep down, you knew the truth—the mark had only changed when Jungwon touched you.

And when you returned to class, he was there, hovering near the door with a worried frown. He looked up as you approached, eyes bright with relief.

“Are you okay?” he asked, a slight smile breaking through the concern etched into his features. “I was worried about you.”

Your heart skipped as you nodded, doing your best to keep your voice steady. “I’m fine. Just… a bit shaken up, that’s all.” You felt the weight of the new secret pressing down on you, but you forced yourself to smile.

Jungwon’s shoulders relaxed, and he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck in that effortlessly charming way of his. “I’m glad. I’ll be more careful with my aim next time.”

You smiled back, feeling the weight of the mark’s new color, of the quiet truth only you knew. As Jungwon returned to his seat, your gaze drifted to the back of your knee, where the mark lay hidden under the fabric of your clothes, now touched by color—by him.

In the days following the incident on the field, the world seemed to shift around you, humming with an energy you couldn’t quite shake. The back of your knee, where Jungwon’s touch had changed your soulmate mark to a soft, distinct yellow color, was a constant reminder of the possibility that your crush—Jungwon, the ever-handsome and kind soccer captain—might be something even more significant than you’d ever dared to imagine.

“How’s your knee?” he asked, his voice warm and tinged with that familiar gentleness that made your heart stutter.

“Oh, it’s fine, really!” You waved it off, attempting to tuck your leg further under your desk, hoping he wouldn’t notice the faint new color to the mark that still lingered behind your knee.

Jungwon didn’t seem to buy it. “Are you sure?” he asked, his brows furrowing as he leaned down, intent on seeing for himself. Before he could get a closer look, you tugged your skirt down a little farther, hiding the mark as best as you could.

“I’m sure, really,” you insisted, trying to keep your tone casual. “It’s just a little sore, nothing to worry about.”

For a moment, he hesitated, his gaze lingering on you, unreadable. Then he nodded, standing up with a quiet, sheepish smile. “Alright. I’ll trust you, but only if you promise to let me know if it starts hurting again.”

You managed a nod, clutching your books a little tighter to keep your hands steady. “I promise,” you said, hoping he didn’t notice the flicker of nerves in your eyes.

Your third shared class of the week was English, and just as the teacher assigned the day’s group work, the class began to shift into pairs. Coincidentally (or so you told yourself), the seating arrangement placed Jungwon near you that day.

“Hey,” he said, his voice soft as he approached. He offered you one of his signature, heart-stopping smiles. “Mind if we pair up? I mean…if you’re okay with it.”

With an effort to keep your expression neutral, you nodded. “Sure,” you replied, your voice steady even though your heart was anything but.

Settling at a table near the window, you both pulled out your notebooks. The task was straightforward—analyzing a poem about soulmates. You caught a breath at the irony, and Jungwon, seemingly unfazed, began reading the passage aloud. His voice, low and calm, wove through the words as you listened, though your mind kept wandering to his every movement, the way his eyes flickered thoughtfully over the page, how his fingers held the pencil lightly but with intention.

“What do you think?” he asked, pulling you out of your thoughts.

You cleared your throat, willing your focus back to the assignment. “I think…well, it’s romantic. But it’s also kind of tragic, right? There’s always this sense of waiting—like, what if they don’t meet?”

Jungwon’s gaze flickered up, lingering on your face a little longer than necessary. “Yeah, that’s true,” he agreed, his voice thoughtful. “The idea that you’re waiting your whole life for just one person…it’s a lot of pressure.”

He paused, eyes settling on you, as if searching for something beneath the calm exterior you held so tightly. “Do you… believe in it? Soulmates, I mean?”

Caught off guard, you looked down, your fingers tracing invisible patterns on the edge of your notebook. You thought of your parents, of their own lovely story about finding each other through their marks, and how you’d grown up with those tales of destiny. And now, here you were, sitting with the very boy who might be your own fated match.

“I think,” you began slowly, “that I want to believe in it. My parents…they have one of those classic stories. It’s hard not to believe in soulmates when you’ve heard stories like that all your life.”

He nodded, listening intently. “I get that. I guess…sometimes I wonder what it would be like. But it’s hard to picture when you don’t…you know, have any marks yourself.”

The quiet sadness in his tone took you by surprise. You’d never considered what it might be like to go through life without a soulmate mark, to feel like something intrinsic was missing, a feeling that destiny had passed you by. Suddenly, your thoughts flickered back to the legends the elders told—how markless people were said to carry the weight of unrequited love from a past life, doomed to wander without a soulmate to mark them in this one. The idea hung heavy in the air, mingling with your sympathy for him.

“Maybe it doesn’t matter, then,” you murmured, almost to yourself. “Maybe people without marks find their person too, in other ways.” You couldn’t help but think that perhaps Jungwon was one of those souls, burdened by a love that never came to fruition.

The silence that followed was heavy but not uncomfortable. Jungwon seemed lost in thought, his gaze drifting out the window as he considered your words. And just then, a strange sense of comfort washed over you, knowing that even if he was unaware of it, you shared a connection that went beyond what either of you could see.

“Maybe,” he said finally, and then he flashed you a lopsided grin. “Well, even if soulmates are real, maybe it’s a good thing I’m mark-free. I don’t think I’d want someone to find out I was their soulmate because I hit them with a soccer ball.”

His laughter rang out, and you couldn’t help but join him, but beneath the mirth, your heart clenched. You wanted to tell him everything—to reveal the secret that could bridge the chasm between you. But as the words formed on your lips, fear gripped you. What if you were wrong? What if he truly didn’t have a soulmate mark, and this moment of connection was just a fleeting illusion?

So you swallowed hard, plastering a smile on your face that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Well, let’s just keep that between us, then,” you replied, hoping to mask the anxiety swirling inside you.

Inside, the truth weighed heavy, a secret that felt more like a burden than a bond. Keeping it hidden seemed safer, easier—even if it left you feeling like a ghost, drifting alongside him but never truly reaching out. The thought of him being one of those markless souls—the ones who carried the pain of a love never realized—made you ache. You didn’t want him to feel that emptiness, and yet, here you were, hiding a truth that might shatter the fragile connection you shared.

Perhaps it was better this way. Better to hold onto your heartache in silence than risk shattering the bond you had built, no matter how tenuous it felt. As you returned to the assignment, the bittersweet taste of longing lingered on your tongue, mixing with the thrill of possibility, leaving you torn between the hope of what could be and the fear of what might never come to pass.

Finally, during your biology class, your teacher assigned a laboratory cleaning rotation. By the luck of the draw—or maybe a twist of fate—you found yourself paired with Jungwon. It was supposed to be a simple task, but as the two of you gathered supplies and began tidying up the classroom after hours, you felt the weight of every quiet moment.

Jungwon appeared beside you as you straightened a stack of textbooks, arms full of markers and erasers. His casual, laid-back attitude only heightened the quiet thrill that being near him sparked in you. As he handed you an eraser, your fingers brushed slightly, and you pulled back quickly, heart racing.

"Are you always this… serious?" Jungwon teased, his lips curving into a half-smile. "I mean, you don’t have to look like we’re cleaning the whole school."

You rolled your eyes, fighting back a smile. “It’s just how I work. I take tasks seriously.”

He nodded, still smiling. “You’re impressive, you know. It’s like…you’re always so composed, like nothing rattles you.”

Caught off guard by his observation, you froze momentarily, not sure how to respond. Behind your serious exterior, you were anything but composed—especially around him. Before you could answer, he turned away to tidy the bookshelves, leaving you wondering if he’d picked up on the effect he had on you.

After a while, Jungwon returned to the task at hand, dusting off a few of the windowsills. It was quiet for a few minutes, the sounds of your combined effort filling the room. You both worked in sync, a silent rhythm that had developed without either of you realizing it. And then, with an abruptness that caught you off guard, he spoke again.

“Hey,” he said, hesitating. “I know this might be a weird question, but… where’s your soulmate mark?”

The question hung in the air between you, heavy with implications you weren’t ready to unravel. Your heart thudded as you carefully set down the books you’d been holding, gathering your thoughts.

You felt a flush creep up your cheeks. "Um, it's… it's on my knee," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. The intimacy of the moment made you shy, and you instinctively shifted your weight, the hem of your skirt falling to cover your knee even more.

Jungwon raised an eyebrow, curiosity glimmering in his eyes. “Oh? Is it… already in color?”

You hesitated for a brief moment, weighing your words. “Uh, yeah,” you replied, biting your lip. “It changed a while ago. But it’s not a big deal.” You left out the part about him possibly being your soulmate, feeling the weight of that truth settle heavily in the air between you.

His expression shifted slightly, disappointment flashing across his features before he masked it with a casual smile. “That’s cool,” he said, his voice a bit quieter now. “I guess… it must be nice to have that certainty.”

“Yeah,” you said, trying to keep the mood light despite the sudden heaviness in your chest. “I mean, it’s comforting, I suppose.”

But beneath your words, a sense of longing stirred. You noticed how his gaze faltered for a moment, and it struck you then how much he had hoped for something different. He had seemed eager, maybe even hopeful, and the realization stung a little.

Jungwon cleared his throat, breaking the silence that had settled over you both. “So, um… did you see the last soccer game?” he asked, trying to steer the conversation in a different direction. “I think we really need to work on our defense.”

His attempt at lightheartedness felt slightly forced, and you could see a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. Still, it was nice to see him trying to shake off the heaviness from moments before.

“Yeah, I caught a bit of it,” you replied, grateful for the shift in focus. “You guys played well, though a couple of those goals were pretty close calls.”

He chuckled, the tension easing just a little. “Yeah, I think I almost gave our coach a heart attack with that last-minute save,” he said, grinning. It was an infectious smile, and you found yourself smiling back despite the weight still resting in the back of your mind.

The annual school festival arrived faster than expected, and the campus buzzed with activity and excitement. Classrooms were transformed into themed booths, hallways were draped with handmade decorations, and students wore colorful festival shirts and badges, their faces bright with paint and laughter. You found yourself stationed at the face-painting booth, brush in hand, ready to tackle the endless line of eager students.

You’d always enjoyed events like these—participating in the festival offered you a rare chance to relax and feel connected to your classmates outside of the usual seriousness you maintained as class president. Here, you were just another student, painting stars, hearts, and stripes on familiar faces.

“Hey, what’s up? Need a painter?” your friend Taeyoung called out to the next group approaching your booth. You followed his gaze and felt your heart skip when you recognized Jungwon and his friends heading your way, laughing and jostling each other. He wore a loose festival shirt with sleeves rolled up, a casual look that somehow made him even more handsome. You quickly glanced down, suddenly hyper-aware of your paintbrushes and the paper towels you clutched a little too tightly.

The booth was busy, and with most of your fellow painters occupied, it didn’t take long for Taeyoung to pair Jungwon with you. “Hey, Y/N, looks like you’ve got a VIP customer! Captain Jungwon wants to be a canvas today,” he said, a mischievous grin spreading across his face as he nudged Jungwon playfully.

Jungwon chuckled, but there was a flicker of something else in his eyes—an eagerness mixed with a hint of shyness. “Yeah, I guess I’m in your hands now,” he said, his voice low and teasing. “No pressure, right?”

You swallowed hard, trying to maintain your composure as your heart raced. “Uh, right! No pressure at all,” you replied, your voice a little too bright. “What do you have in mind?”

You forced yourself to meet Jungwon’s eyes, fighting back the nervous excitement bubbling in your chest. “So… what would you like?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

Jungwon’s usual confident smile softened a little, and he seemed slightly hesitant, rubbing the back of his neck, a gesture that made your stomach flutter. “Maybe a couple of stars on my cheeks? And… maybe a small cat on my forehead?”

You stifled a laugh at his request, realizing that behind his composed demeanor, he had a playful side you hadn’t seen before. “A star and a cat. Got it,” you whispered, dipping your brush into white paint. You reached out carefully to steady his face, tilting it slightly toward the light. Your fingers lightly touched his cheek, and you couldn’t ignore the spark that jolted through you at the contact.

Jungwon closed his eyes briefly, letting out a small breath. You tried to ignore the slight flush you felt creeping up your neck, focusing on drawing a perfect star on his left cheek. You painted in silence, but every so often, he’d open his eyes and glance at you, making your heart race each time.

With one cheek finished, you moved to the other side. He leaned in closer, giving you the perfect angle. The space between you seemed to shrink with every second, the sounds of the bustling festival fading into a distant hum. You were hyper-aware of everything—the faint scent of his cologne, the warmth radiating from him, and how your fingers gently brushed his skin. When you finished with the stars, you pulled back slightly to look at your work, meeting his gaze as you did.

“They look good,” he murmured, his voice softer than usual.

You swallowed, breaking eye contact to reach for a new brush and dip it in black paint. “Now for the cat,” you said, trying to stay calm. “Hold still.”

You carefully moved to part his hair at the center of his forehead. As your fingers brushed through his bangs, you froze, your eyes widening as you saw something strange—a small patch of his dark hair was shifting, lightening to a soft honey-blonde under your touch.

“Um… Jungwon,” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath as you stared at the transformed lock of hair falling against his forehead. “Your hair…”

“What about it?” He turned to you with a hint of confusion, glancing up as if trying to catch a glimpse of the change. “Did I mess it up?”

You shook your head, the words tangling in your throat as disbelief washed over you. “It’s… it’s changing color.”

He blinked, clearly caught off guard, then brushed his fingers through the area you’d touched. His movements stilled, the warmth in his expression fading, replaced by something deeper—something unreadable. The air thickened around you, a heavy silence filled with unspoken questions.

“Are you sure?” he asked quietly, his gaze searching yours as if trying to decode the truth hidden beneath your surprise.

You nodded slowly, your heart racing. “Yeah, I… I thought it was just the paint at first, but… it’s definitely not.”

The realization hung in the air, electric and palpable, igniting a spark of tension that sent shivers down your spine. Jungwon’s fingers gently traced the newly lightened strands of hair, his expression a mix of wonder and trepidation. You could feel your pulse quicken, an exhilarating rush flooding through you as you grasped the meaning behind this strange phenomenon.

Time seemed to stretch in that moment, each heartbeat echoing like a drum in your chest. Here he was, the boy you’d admired from afar, unexpectedly transformed before your eyes. Jungwon—the one who had unwittingly painted your world in vibrant colors, now literally changing right in front of you.

Suddenly, self-consciousness washed over you like a cold wave. You averted your gaze, stepping back instinctively. “I—I should go finish with the others. They’re probably waiting for me…” Your voice wavered, betraying the rush of emotions threatening to spill over.

Before you could dwell on it, a paint container wobbled on the edge of the table, knocking into your elbow. In your panic, you stumbled, sending brushes and colors sprawling over yourself. “Oh no!” you yelped, scrambling to clean up the mess.

“Y/N, wait!” Jungwon exclaimed, his eyes widening in surprise. He stepped closer, his hand closing around yours, halting your frantic movements. “Stop. Just breathe.”

His grip was steadying, grounding you amidst the chaos of your racing thoughts. “Let’s find somewhere quiet, okay? You need to clean up.” His voice held a calmness that contrasted sharply with the storm inside you.

You felt a rush of warmth at his concern, but your mind spun with confusion. “But… the booth—”

“Trust me,” he said, his gaze unwavering, a silent promise passing between you. “Just for a moment. Let’s talk.”

With a nod, you allowed him to guide you away from the festival’s noise, your heart racing not just from the moment, but from the undeniable connection building between you. The thrill of discovery was tempered by the anxiety of what it all meant, and yet, in Jungwon’s presence, you felt something shift—something new and exciting, just waiting to be explored.

He led you through a quieter section of the campus, where the walls were lined with colorful murals painted by students, the air filled with the faint scent of paint and creativity. The laughter and chatter from the festival faded into the background, replaced by the gentle rustle of leaves overhead and the distant sound of music drifting from the booths.

As you turned a corner, Jungwon paused, the air around you suddenly thick with anticipation. He glanced around, ensuring you were alone, then leaned against the cool brick wall, his posture relaxed yet focused. His gaze locked onto yours, intensity radiating from him. “My hair… it’s slowly turning blond. Isn’t this what soulmate marks are supposed to be like?”

His words hung in the air, electrifying the space between you. You felt the weight of the moment press down, your heart racing like a wild drum in your chest. “Right… your soulmate mark,” you stammered, the tremor in your voice betraying the chaos inside. “I didn’t want to say anything because I thought it might just be a coincidence, but now… it's all starting to make sense.”

Jungwon stepped closer, the seriousness in his expression deepening. “You mean you knew?” His voice was low, the edge of urgency evident. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

The air crackled with tension, and you felt your pulse quicken. “I didn’t know it was you! I thought—” you cut yourself off, frustration bubbling within you. “I didn’t want to ruin our friendship or make things awkward. You’ve been my crush longer than you’ve been a friend. Do you have any idea how hard it is to keep things from being awkward with you, especially when my mark changed?”

Jungwon’s expression shifted, vulnerability breaking through his confidence. “Your mark... is it.… when did it change? Am I—was it before… or after we met?” His voice was tight, the weight of his words hanging heavily in the air.

You took a deep breath, feeling the memories rush back. “The day you carried me to the nurse’s office, you idiot.”

He blinked, taken aback by your response. “Wait… that day? But I thought...”

His expression softened slightly, the intensity in his eyes shifting as he took a step closer. You held your breath as he knelt down, his fingers hovering over your soulmate mark. The moment felt electric, a mix of vulnerability and anticipation coursing through you.

“Can I…?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, giving him permission to touch it. As his fingers brushed against your skin, a shiver ran down your spine. Jungwon chuckled softly, the sound breaking some of the tension between you. “Can you believe this? It feels just like yesterday when I accidentally hit my crush with a soccer ball at her knees,” he said, shaking his head with a bemused smile. “The same crush I’ve wanted to approach since 10th grade but was always too afraid to mess up, especially with how she glares at boys.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the image of a younger Jungwon fumbling with his words as he tried to impress you suddenly vivid in your mind. “I didn’t mean to scare you off,” you admitted, your heart swelling with warmth. “I thought you were just… confident, you know?”

He shrugged, a hint of shyness creeping back into his demeanor. “I try to be. But it’s hard when you’re crushing on someone who’s out of your league.”

“Out of my league?” you repeated, incredulous. “Jungwon, you’re the captain of the soccer team! Everyone looks up to you.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I’m not nervous around you,” he replied, his gaze locking onto yours, sincerity pouring from his words. “It’s different with you. You make me want to be better.”

The air between you thickened with unspoken emotions, each heartbeat echoing the connection that had always been there, waiting to be acknowledged. You both stood on the edge of something monumental, the laughter of the festival fading away, leaving only the two of you and the promise of what lay ahead.

The next day, Jungwon strolled confidently down the hallway, his head of hair transformed into a stunning honeyed blonde that turned heads with every step. The shift was striking—bold, noticeable, and oddly fitting—making it seem as though he had always intended to embrace this change. Whispers and awestruck glances followed him like a gentle wave, yet beneath that cool exterior, you could see the spark of mischief in his eyes, especially when they met yours.

“Wow, he really went all out,” Arin murmured beside you, her voice a mix of surprise and admiration. “He must’ve bleached the whole thing. I didn’t think Jungwon had that in him.”

You nodded, trying to maintain your composure while your heart raced. “Yeah… surprising, isn’t it?” you replied, though a smile betrayed your nonchalance as you watched him navigate the crowd like he owned the place.

Unaware of the true significance of his transformation, your classmates continued their commentary. “Looks good on him, though,” one girl remarked, her tone infused with genuine admiration. “Like he was meant to have it all along.”

Jungwon seemed completely unfazed by the attention, wearing his new look with a blend of pride and ease, as if his blonde hair was a badge of honor that only you understood. It was a mark that connected the two of you in ways that no one else could fathom—an intimate secret wrapped in boldness.

As the hallway thinned out, he lingered by his locker, his casual demeanor slipping just a bit as he caught your gaze from across the hall. He lifted a hand, brushing back his hair with an effortless charm that sent butterflies fluttering in your stomach—a subtle nod to the secret you shared.

You walked over, your heart pounding just a little faster than usual. “It suits you,” you said, keeping your voice low, the air between you thick with unspoken words.

His eyes softened, gratitude shimmering in their depths. “Good to know,” he murmured, his tone low but filled with warmth. “After all, it’s your fault it looks this good.”

A faint blush crept up your cheeks at his words, and before you could respond, he leaned in slightly, lowering his voice even more as he added, “And don’t worry. The secret’s safe.”

In that crowded hallway, with laughter and footsteps echoing around you, it felt like you and Jungwon were enveloped in your own little world. His blonde hair, like a silent vow, was a reminder of what only the two of you understood: a hidden connection, pulsing with promise and anticipation, waiting to be explored.

[darklinsblog]

Dating Rafe would include… (realistically speaking)

Inspired by the fact I actually, after years of stalling decided to start watching OBX-currently just started S3-and we all love a psycho lol

Rafe it’s absolutely all or nothing, so for starters you had to catch his eye somehow

Mf couldn’t get you out of his head and wanted to know every single thing there was to know about you.

If you’re a Pogue his obsession went over the fucking top, like a guilty pleasure he couldn’t get enough of, but hid away because there was no way he could’ve been seen with a Pogue.

If you’re a Kook, he goes full cassanova, charming, smooth asf talker, he wants to absolutely woo you because he wants you to be his and to have everyone know that.

Deep fucking staring from across the room.

Touch starved, literally if he doesn’t have his hands on you somehow he can’t be at ease.

Lots and lots of love bites

Contrary to popular belief, Rafe would NEVER cheat, he wouldn’t be dating someone he isn’t obsessed with.

Can’t fucking stand men trying to hit on you, literally gets on fights almost every time you go out.

You can’t go out to parties without him, non negotiable.

Aggressive speaker, would throw a compliment within insults.

“I wouldn’t have to fight some fucking dickhead if you wouldn’t dress like that!”

Not even kidding Rafe Cameron is the CEO of lovebombing.

Stupid fights turn into literal yelling and him hitting the wall.

When he’s high it’s literally all lovely dovey and needy or aggressive as shit and throwing shit at you.

Screams in your face for the most part.

Immediately regrets it whenever he does it and apologizes like his life depends on it.

“Shit, baby… I’m so sorry, I- I swear i didn’t mean to”

Showers you with love afterwards.

MAKE UP SEX

Workships your body every time you’re in bed

“You’re so fucking beautiful…”

Man loves to get his face in between your legs and munch.

Is terrified of you leaving him and when you try to he humiliates himself for you to forgive him

Literally falls to his knees and clings onto your knees.

“Please, please… don’t leave me Y/N you’re all I have”

Would literally throw hands if something happens to you on a blink.

“Who was it?”

“Rafe, don’t-“

“Give me names”

Would kill for you

…but could also be likely to kill you too

Needs a lot of reassurance.

You’re practically his therapy and the only thing keeping him on a half decent mindset.

Asks you for help because you’re the only one to ever listen to him.

Promises you he will drop his drug addiction over and over again.

He wants to do better for you, just doesn’t know how to.

Ultimately, he does love you, but in the only way he understands love.

[goomyloid]

got uty au pilled again, sorry... more info under the cut

an AU where ceroba, in the end, refuses to inject kanako with the serum. even after all her research, she just can't trust that it's totally safe. while kanako accepts this, she still wishes she could eventually be of use somehow, and indirectly blames herself for her father's death.

despite all this, with kanako alive, ceroba is able to grieve chujin in a far less desperate way, still having her daughter by her side. as the years go by, ceroba devotes more and more of her time to finishing chujin's research in hopes of finally making a serum that can save the underground. kanako is determined to help, too -- together, they clean up chujin's lab and make it a far nicer place to work, because they're in this together now. well, in theory.

ceroba still certainly takes care of kanako and does her best to be a good mother, but as time passes, ceroba spends more and more time in the lab trying to find an answer. kanako, being the social butterfly that she is, can't bring herself to always stay shut inside like her mother; she travels daily to Oasis Valley, making friends and becoming the town darling. as ceroba spends more time working, kanako spends more and more time taking care of the estate, trying to spend time outside whenever possible.

but it gets kind of lonely. the ketsukane estate is off outside of Oasis Valley, and not many people come by. she's worried about her mother, who's been shutting her out as she becomes more desperate to find a solution. there's only so much to do at the house.

then, clover falls into the underground and explores the dunes. there are barely any other kids at this spot in the underground -- finally, someone around her age! she's immediately entranced by them and determined to become their friend, even after finding out they're a human -- that just makes them cooler...!

but there's a problem; kanako has seen her father's tapes, she knows that a human soul would be extremely valuable to producing the serum. of course, she wants to help save the underground, and she wants her mother to finally be rid of stress and be able to spend time with her again... but after spending time with clover, kanako knows there's no way she can let clover die. they're like the sibling she never had...

and kanako can't even let her mother know that clover exists, either; she knows exactly what will happen if ceroba finds out there's a human here. and yet, a secret part of her wishes and hopes that maybe, just maybe, ceroba could find value in clover as a person and then they could all live in the ketsukane estate together. it would be a dream come true! maybe there's even some way clover can help ceroba without having to give up their soul...?

but things aren't destined to work out that way. any number of things could happen.

clover could peacefully move on in their quest through the underground, leaving a sad and lonely kanako behind.

or, ceroba finds out about clover in one way or another, and things are not looking good. but would she choose to take clover's life at the cost of her daughter's one and only friend?

what if clover didn't come in peace, but in vengeance?

or maybe ceroba somehow accepts clover, growing to respect them after all is said and done, and she tries to experiment on a living human soul?

or maybe, wracked with grief and loneliness, kanako discards her mother's warnings and takes the new, updated serum herself, determined to become the hero for her family like she always wanted...?

or, something else could happen.

what if, after an unhappy ending, kanako wakes up on that same day again, waiting for clover to come by the ketsukane estate for the first time? she doesn't even know how it's possible, reliving the same few weeks over and over. she just wants to find her happy ending, and she'll search and search for as long as she needs to.

how long can she watch the same endings play out over and over?

[imsofreakingtired]

modern!sevika - cute/silly hcs

(that picture,, shes so precious jdhjfsdhnd)

will walk confidently into the room and stand there staring blankly, completely forgetting what she came in there for. sees you and gives you a kiss on the forehead. leaves. 5 seconds later she comes back, grabs her prosthetic arm, and walks out again

lowkey likes when it snows and the streets are icy because that gives her an excuse to make you hang onto her arm in order not to slip (she never slips)

rarely dreams, and when she does it's mostly nightmares, but sometimes she sleep talks the most random things. you wake up to hear her mumbling something like "the chicken is crisper when it's burnt, but i don't want your oil." will also answer you in her sleep if you ask her follow-up questions. remembers none of it in the morning.

or she'll just swear in her native language and you've picked up enough Hindi to wonder whose mother she is cursing.

gets car ad jingles stuck in her head periodically and is always humming something under her breath as she works or vacuums or whatever

has incredible navigational skills when walking or taking public transport but somehow gets lost every time she drives. google maps is the bane of her existence.

falls asleep in front of the TV at 9:30 sharp like a middle aged dad. i mean the TV could be on full blast, in the middle of a climactic action scene and she's knocked out snoring. but when you wake her up to get her into bed she will not be able to fall back asleep until well past midnight

whenever she sneezes and you automatically say "bless you" she NEVER FAILS to give you a deadpan look and say "i am not blessed."

will cackle at bad jokes long after you stop even pretending to find them funny

she's an unwilling morning person. always up early but never happy about it.

when she's stressed she just disappears and fixes something. one time she replaced all the handles of every sink in the house

reads almost exclusively non-fiction books on mechanics, neuroscience, and roman history.

has awful hearing and makes you repeat yourself 23 times every time you say something to her from another room...

...but then gets irritated if someone makes her do the same thing.

loses everything somehow. her keys. her glasses. her arm. her left boot. her books. her other boot. her wallet.

(and she never fails to give you a heart attack about it. she'd say in the most casual fuckin voice, "i swear my wallet was just here." and you take off searching for it only for her to find it in her pocket)

sometimes you have cozy nights in together: bake cookies, burn incense, smoke a joint. she is extremely sweet when she's high. she can't stop giving you little kisses all over and tells you huskily that you're the best thing that ever happened to her.

but also in her normal state she has a habit of bluntly saying things that hurt you unintentionally. like when you need her to give emotional reassurance, but she gives you a stone cold solution instead.

she's learned this hurts you and tries to watch her words. not always successfully, but you know she tries.

will never touch social media and no amount of teasing, begging, persuading, cajoling will get her to change her mind.

does not particularly like kids but has a sixth sense when it comes to looking after them. like one time at a family barbecue she caught the little kid of your relative when he fell off a tree branch, single-handedly, purely by instinct. he might have broken a bone otherwise or worse. she becomes something of a local legend for that event.

has the funniest bedhead in the mornings like her hair sticks out everywhere. you want to take a picture and use it as her contact pfp but you also don't want to die

will do the taxes with ease but she's uncomfortable with customer service phone calls. every time you need to contact an agency about something she stands next to you like a nervous kid while you argue with the sales representative.

drinks way too much caffeinated tea and coffee. refuses to cut back on caffeine because of the withdrawal headaches.

will trip over literally anything. and bump into everything. never feels nor remembers where the bruises come from. kicks doors shut and flings them open and always breaks the hinges. she doesn't do this intentionally, she just forgets her own physical strength.

[witchthewriter]

𝐓𝐚𝐬𝐤 𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐞 𝟏𝟒𝟏 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐝𝐨𝐠 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐥𝐞𝐝𝐠𝐞

⤷ female, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ | ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ ᴵᴵ

𝑪𝑨𝑷𝑻𝑨𝑰𝑵 𝑱𝑶𝑯𝑵 𝑷𝑹𝑰𝑪𝑬

・Price exudes confidence; he could be standing still, his mind thinking of a hundred different things at once and everyone around him feels like they're introuble.

・He has that Dad Presence

・Back straight, rubbing his beard every now and then.

・Whenever kids feel scared in public (like they've lost their parents somehow) they'll ask John for help 100%.

・And he is always ready to help!

・Whenever you're in uncomfortable situations, and you can feel the attention from someone you do not want. Then John is quick to notice. He watches your body language like it's in art form.

・And all he needs to do is stare down that mthfcka and they leave you alone.

𝑲𝒀𝑳𝑬 𝑮𝑨𝑹𝑹𝑰𝑪𝑲

・The thing about Kyle, is that he has a really welcoming vibe about him.

・He rarely makes others around him feel intimidated or uncomfortable.

・HOWEVER, for him, it's like a switch.

・Off = down to earth, kind, soft Kyle, On = is a soldier who is used to getting his hands dirty.

・He will shut shit down immediately. His eyes seem to change as well, his demeanour stiffening, nose flaring, ears almost ringing.

・Like a bull to a red flag, Kyle is ready to attack, to defend and to end whoever made you feel uncomfortable (even in the slightest)

𝑱𝑶𝑯𝑵𝑵𝒀 𝑴𝑨𝑪𝑻𝑨𝑽𝑰𝑺𝑯

・Uses his brawn but also his brain for his scary dog aura.

・He's packed with muscle, but has a natural ability to make certain situations very uncomfortable by pointing out things.

"Ye know true men dinnae harrass women, righ'?" Johnny would say, his arms crossed in front of him, a sneer on his face; a look so deadly anyone would fold instantly.

・He's basically eminating an approaching dog whose growling. Canines showing when he speaks.

・Murder on his mind.

𝑺𝑰𝑴𝑶𝑵 𝑹𝑰𝑳𝑬𝒀

・Only needs to stand near you and people steer clear of both of you.

・Doesn't need to say anything; doesn't even need to glare, he just has a resting ... scary face. Where people feel intimidated instantly.

・But when he has his mask on - or a medical mask (always in the colour black), while folding his arms, then it's over. No one even LOOKS your way.

・So it does make going out in public a LOT easier. No one is bothering you

[seonghwaddict]

the lamb and the wolf — park seonghwa

in which all he wanted was someone to love in his dark, lonely world… and then you came along.

hades!park seonghwa x fem!reader. genre. strangers to lovers. fluff. smut. warnings. he’s literally obsessed with mc, ankle injury, alcohol consumption, mention of cannibalism as a metaphor for love but it’s not really explicit, mc is described as innocent, explicit sexual content mdni, oral (f. receiving), unprotected, soft dom!hwa, big dick!hwa, praise, creampie. wc. 7.2k. rating. mature.

lilo’s notes. i’ve been working on this for two-ish months and i’m so happy to finally share it. writing this was fun, i love writing men infatuated with their lovers <33 the letter he reads does not belong to me and comes from “Albert Camus, María Casares. Correspondence (1944-1959)” which is a collection of love letters sent between camus and casares. this particular one is letter #95.

listening to. from persephone, kiki rockwell // sunlight, hozier // liquid smooth, mitski // cinnamon girl, lana del rey // nothing’s gonna hurt you baby, cigarettes after sex

masterlist.

the realm of the dead was terribly dark and cold and, as the name would suggest, barren of life. for seonghwa, the ruler of the underworld who had spent thousands of years in the realm, this hadn’t been a problem before. yet, he couldn’t deny the temptation of the distant sounds of chirping birds and gentle breezes humming through the air above.

he was, of course, free to leave whenever he wished to but more often than not he was busy—ruling over the souls that had passed or meetings with nymphs and the other deities. there had never been an inclination to explore, but somehow he found himself taking curious steps out of the cave entrance to his world.

and that’s where he saw you.

you weren’t a long way away from the entrance to the underworld, idling in a meadow and picking flowers and berries in a woven basket. the sunlight glinted off your rich skin, glistening on you manicured nails as your hands tended to the plants. the slow wind wafted through your soft-looking hair, making it dance in the air. he was entranced by the way the skirt of your dainty silk dress flowed as you moved around, hypnotised by the ivory fabric folding and brushing against your ankle with every step. you were beautiful in every sense of the word—but not the soft and comforting kind. no, not at all. in fact, he was quite alarmed by the notion of being so infatuated with a mortal at first glance.

seonghwa knew he was doomed from the moment he laid eyes on you. he wanted nothing more than for you to glance his way, willing to split himself in half or carve his heart right out of his chest to get a second of your attention. you spoke to yourself softly, muttering about how pretty you thought the little branch of lilac you plucked out of a bush was.

oh, how lovely your voice sounded; even the sun would not compare to it’s dulcet warmth.

a brilliant idea crossed his mind, one that he knew would get you to fall right in his grasp. and minutes later, he was able to conjure up a disturbingly realistic illusion of a rain storm. he descended back into his realm and all he had to do was wait.

you, however, flinched as the first droplets hit you. looking around for shelter, you spotted a cave entrance just a little way ahead, scrambling to sit there and wait for the storm to pass. the ground and walls felt cold against your body, nothing to separate your skin from the dark stone but your gown that was now soaked through and clung to your body.

minutes after you had sat down, a vaguely familiar scent breezed past you and had your head darting to look into the deeper part of the cave. there was no way it came from outside, not a single house in sight as the dewy smell of rain overtook the meadow. so your next most likely assumption was that it came from inside the cave. you stared into the seemingly endless abyss, squinting into the darkness for signs of, well, anything other than rocks and dirt.

and that’s when you saw it. a brief flickering flame, metres away from where you were sat. in the seconds that it lit, you could faintly make out what looked to be a staircase, descending further into a cave. an intrigued hum left you as you pushed yourself up from the ground and walked to the strange stairs, basket of berries and flowers left behind. there’s a reason they say curiosity killed the cat.

it was significantly colder as you stood at the top of the carved stairs, staring as far as you could see before they winded around and further into the unknown. another light came on, this time around the corner the stairs disappeared behind. with a final look at the exit of the cave, you began your unknowing descent into hell.

the light behind you flickered before going out, leaving you in darkness until you passed by the next torch, mounted on the damp stone. you planted your hand on the wall, afraid you’d lose your footing as each flame only lit the foreign path temporarily. the deeper you went, the colder you got. by the time you thought the stairs were endless, you could see faint puffs of white air emerging from your shaking lips with each breath you took. shivers ran through your body occasionally, your wet dress not doing anything to keep you warm.

just when you were going to give up and turn around to return to the surface, you stumbled at the unexpected absence of yet another step. your faint wince echoed through the small space as you rolled your ankle, instinctively holding yourself against the stone wall. your hand slipped from the wall for a second, a pebble falling and rolling until it stopped with an odd “clink.” you looked up in confusion to see what made the pebble stop with such a sound. looking with wide, bewildered eyes, a black and engraved set of double doors stood a few steps ahead of you. had they been there the whole time?

maybe someone lived there, someone who could help you. your father kept you safe and sound for as long as you could remember, teaching you to always see the best in people, rendering you a little sheltered and much too kind. perhaps this is what made you so trusting as you forced yourself to walk to the doors on limping legs. both doors had beautiful metal knockers mounted on them. the rusted brass resembled three dog heads, a heavy metal ring hanging from the snout of the dog in the middle. more than mildly nervous and with cold, shaking hands, you reached forward and tentatively lifted the ring of the right door before letting it knock against the dark wood.

moments later it swung open, held by a tall, pale-skinned man with slim fingers. for a moment you forgot what you were there for, caught off guard by the sharp eyes that looked down at you. your warm breath swirled in the air as you finally pieced together a sentence.

“i’m sorry, sir, but… i-i really meant to leave but i hurt my ankle…” you spoke quietly, your voice an octave higher than it usually was.

his gaze softened, the light of a torch on the wall reflecting in his dark eyes, and he smiled down at you as he opened the door wider and stepped aside. “oh, you poor thing. please, come inside.”

seonghwa watched you walk past him and into this home he had conjured up just for your arrival. it was quite dark, illuminated by a fireplace and candelabras decorating shelves and tables. he didn’t care enough to provide more light, completely entranced by the way you kneeled in front of the hearth, hands outstretched to warm them by the fire. they looked so much smaller compared to his. seeing you up close made his heart skip a beat, he wanted nothing more than to lay his hands on your smooth skin, run them through your damp hair, pat the thin and wet flowing dress dry and keep you warm. droplets of the rain ran from the top of you head down your face slowly, occasionally getting caught in your eyebrows or the corner of your beautiful lips.

he wondered fleetingly if they felt as soft as they looked. another bead of rain made it past your features, trailing past your jawline and neck. his eyes tracked it but when it disappeared under the fabric covering your chest, he refused to continue looking.

you felt his presence standing beside you a moment later, drawing your eyes—your naïve, innocent eyes—to look up at him. he offered you a hand to help you stand.

“come, love, let me take a look at your ankle,” he smiled at you kindly, pulling you up helpfully as you took his hand. once you stood, you stumbled slightly, accidentally putting weight on your injured ankle and wincing. one of his arm quickly looped itself around your waist, holding you up against him so you wouldn’t fall.

his touch was gentle yet you felt a certain firmness to it, feeling as if his warm hand was searing through your cold gown. your cheeks burned and you looked away shyly, something that had him biting back a smile as he guided you to sit at one of the sofas. he was mildly surprised by how small and delicate you felt in his arms. you felt fragile. there was something so seductive about that, the thought of breaking you in the most intimate of ways. but soon he had to let you go. after you settled into the cushions of the seat, his movements caught your eye.

your jaw nearly dropped when you saw him kneeling on the ground before you. though you weren’t aware of it, something made you so special that you had a god getting on the ground on his knees in front of a mortal. his dark eyes found yours, voice as gentle as it had been the whole time.

“may i?”

when you gave him a small nod, not trusting yourself to say anything, his hand grazed your calf before gently wrapping around your ankle and lifting it to rest on his thigh. despite his intimidating and malicious role among the deities, he was softer with you than anyone could ever imagine. he slipped off your shoe but kept your sock on, dragging the ruffled trim just under your heel so he could inspect the swelling at your ankle. the ruffles tickled you as he moved it, eliciting the most melodic giggle he’d ever heard.

when he glanced up at you, a smile stretched your tempting lips and making your smooth cheeks swell as you looked back down at him. he couldn’t help but smile, endeared by everything you did.

“it tickles.” you explained through another giggle, looking down at him. as his gaze returned to your ankle, you took note of how close he was. if he leaned forward just a little he’d be able to brush his plump lips along your knees. he knew that, of course, since he planned it. every touch, every position, every word had been meticulously planned, it was no surprise to him how close be found himself.

well, other than you getting injured, everything had been planned.

his slender finger pressed against different areas of your swollen ankle with featherlight pressure, gauging where it hurt most. you winced occasionally, but a certain spot made you flinch and whimper.

“there?” he whispered, looking up at you. his gaze was still tender as he gazed at you, his fingers pressing against that spot again with just a little more pressure. you knew he needed to check if it was really that spot, but in reality he wanted nothing more than to hear those lovely sounds tumble from your lips. to his delight, you did just that, bottom lip quivering slightly with the sound as you nodded. his gaze fell to your lips and he imagined kissing you, sucking your lower lip into his mouth, but he refocused his thoughts on your injury quickly.

“how did you even hurt yourself like this?” his other hand moved to the knee of your uninjured leg, thumb brushing small circles soothingly.

“i missed a step on the stairs and rolled my ankle.” you frowned slightly, the cute downturn if the corners of your lips almost making him coo at you. you leaned forward to catch a glimpse of your ankle but it was hard to see in the dim light provided by the fireplace and various candelabras around on shelves.

“i see… how careless of you, dear,” he tutted, fingers tapping against your knee absentmindedly, “but it’s okay, don’t worry. it’s just a small injury… wait here for a moment while i go get something, alright?”

you nodded once more and he got up, disappearing through a doorway as your eyes traced over his figure. you looked around the room as you waited patiently. it was a simple sitting room slash entrance area at first glance, but upon looking closer you found there were many little breathtaking details littered around for those who cared enough to find them. intricately embroidered golden designs decorating the wine red carpet beneath your feet, the shelves lining the wall on either side of the fireplace stocked with worn books neatly.

silent brisk steps drew your eyes back to him as the handsome stranger returned, a little glass bottle and roll of bandages held in his hands. his cheeks warmed at the sight of you sitting there so pretty and obediently. seonghwa kneeled in front of you once again and brought your foot to the same position as before.

“i’m going to apply this,” he held up the bottle for you to see, a mysterious deep blue liquid swishing around inside, “it’ll be cold and it might hurt a bit, but i promise to be gentle, okay?” after you nodded silently, he uncapped the bottle and poured a bit into his hand. “i’ll need you to stay still and relax. can you do that for me, love?”

after you gave him a muttered ‘yes’ he flattened his palm over the swelling. true to his word, the liquid he had poured into his hand was icy cold and stung a little as he rubbed it in as gently as possible. if you had to describe the feeling, you’d compared it to hundred of pinpricks concentrated on one area. it was uncomfortable, to say the least.

your eyes squeezed shut and your hands dug into the couch beneath you. you felt his touch leave your knee but a second later his hand found it’s way to yours, slipping between your fingers for you to hold him instead of tearing up his couch. he squeezed reassuringly and his heart swelled when you squeezed back.

before you knew it, his warm voice filled the silence of the room. “all done. you can open your eyes now, darling, you did so well.”

you eyes opened slowly at his words and looked down. he was peering up at you with round caring eyes, making your stomach flutter. his hand on your ankle lingered before he pulled away so you could have a look at the bandages wrapped around it skilfully, his other hand still intertwined with yours.

“thank you…?” you trailed off, indirectly asking for his name. despite him being a stranger, you somehow trusted this handsome man with your life. perhaps it was because he had shown you nothing but kindness thus far, every one of his actions illuminating warmth and care.

“of course. the ointment works fairly quickly, so you should be free to walk around just fine for a few hours at least,” his lips tugged into a small grin. he thought you were so cute, too shy to be upfront about your interest in him.

he wasn’t blind, your increased heart rate below his touch didn’t go unnoticed by him. for a moment, he considered lying to you—introducing you to an identity that didn’t exist in fear that you’d run away from him once he revealed himself. however, soon enough he came to the conclusion that he wanted you to love him, not some made up caricature. besides, he didn’t have to tell you about his occupation just yet. “it’s seonghwa.”

you tested the syllables on your tongue and he could’ve sworn honey poured right out of your mouth with how sweet you sounded. he nodded encouragingly and you gave him your name. he decided it fit you and your serene disposition. you watched with a warming face as he lifted your hand to his lips, eyes locked on yours as he kissed your knuckles.

“pleasure to make your acquaintance, love.” he winked smoothly before standing from the ground, pulling you off the couch with him. his eyes glanced down at your dress. it was still wet but not nearly as drenched as it was before, though it still clung to your body, teasing him. “you must be uncomfortable. if you want, i probably have a change of clothes for you.”

you smiled at his invitation gratefully, nodding. “i’d love that, thank you.”

“down that hall,” he pointed in the direction he went earlier to get that odd liquid, “the second door on the right is a bedroom. you’ll find some clothes in the closet, i think they’ll fit you.”

you took a step towards the hall before stopping and turning around to look at him with a questioning gaze. it didn’t take a genius to figure out what you were thinking. he fumbled to find a convincing excuse, speaking slowly. “my, uh, sister used to live with me but she moved away recently, so her clothes are still there.”

the explanation satisfied you and he watched as you followed his instructions, eyes drawn to the way you hips swayed slightly with each step. you stepped through the door he told you to, yellow candlelight seeping into the hallway before you closed it behind you. but it didn’t close fully and left you visible through the sliver. he forced his eyes away when he caught a glimpse of you pulling your gown off yourself.

just as he said, you found many suitable clothes in the shelves of the wooden dresser. the room itself was quite plain, though the bed looked more than comfortable. there were many options, though all of them seemed to be dresses of some kind. long or short, dark or pastel, silk or cotton, and everything in between. finally you settled on a flowy white nightgown, the skirt brushing against your thighs. you pulled on some clean socks and slippers and dried your hair as best you could with a towel you found before stepping out to join him in the sitting room again.

but when you got there, he was nowhere to be found. looking around in confusion, you breathed a sigh if relief when you heard him call your name for another room, beckoning you to join him. upon entering said room, it quickly became apparent it was a dining room.

the walls were practically black, much like the rest of the house so far, and made the room appear much darker than it probably actually was despite the multiple candelabras on the long wooden table and the extravagant chandelier hanging from the ceiling. he sat at the chair on the left of the head of the table, a meal set in front of the head. he gestured for you take a seat in front of it. you obliged quickly.

his eyes roamed over your figure, lips parting in a soft exhale at the sight of your bare thighs. fleetingly, he came to the conclusion he wanted to bury his head between them, let them squeeze and suffocate him as he ravished you. before he could further entertain those thoughts, the squeak of the chair brought him out of his head.

“i figured you’d be hungry, so i made a little something for you,” he spoke as you got comfortable in the seat, pushing a glass of water towards you, “i hope it’s up to your standards, dear.”

you gazed down at the bowl of what appeared to be chicken soup with vegetables before looking back up at him. “you’re too kind, really, you didn’t have to do all this for me.”

he was more than delighted by your kindness and manners, looking at him so cutely with the candlelight dancing in your eyes magically. “no but i did have to. i can’t have you sitting here, injured and starved… plus, it’s nice to have company.”

“oh?” his final sentence piqued your interest, fiddling with the handle of your spoon. “you don’t get a lot of company?”

he really didn’t, other than the souls that made down here after their bodies passed on. but that’s a conversation for another time. he shook his head slightly, lifting a glass of wine you hadn’t noticed before to his lips. he let it sit in his mouth for a moment before swallowing it and returning his gaze to you.

“not very often, no…” he explained slowly, setting the glass back on the table with a quiet clink before folding his hands beside it, elegant as ever, “people don’t tend to come all the way down here and i don’t tend to invite people over.”

a frown tugged at you lips and you turned your gaze away, feeling slightly ashamed. “i’m sorry to have bothered your peace then, seonghwa.”

he tensed, hands gripping each other just a little tighter. why on earth were you ashamed, why were you apologising? he reached over and placed a hand over your free one, momentarily distracted by how soft it felt in his grip before he was quick to reassure you. “oh no, darling, don’t you dare apologise. you’re not bothering me at all, really. it’s been a long time since i’ve enjoyed someone’s company this much.”

“r-really?” you finally looked at him again, the warmth returning to his stomach as he faintly noticed one of the straps threatening to fall off your shoulder.

“really,” he reaffirmed, turning your hand over so he could hold it properly, “i should be thanking you, if anything.”

you averted your gaze once again, this time feeling shy rather than ashamed; a fact that had him grinning. soon enough, you began eating your soup, humming at the taste approvingly after the first taste. you conversed leisurely as you ate, jumping from subject to subject naturally as if you’d known each other for years. you asked him why he wasn’t eating with you, to which he said he’d already eaten and didn’t feel hungry. this was, of course, a lie since deities like him don’t need to eat anyway.

eventually, you finished, slumping back in your seat with a yawn. “that was absolutely amazing. thank you, hwa.”

the new nickname had his cheeks tinting a soft pink but he hid it quickly. he watched you yawn. somehow everything you did felt adorable to him, the urge to scoop you up in his arms to hold you tightly and kiss you softly growing stronger by the second. if he weren’t a man with unrivalled self-restraint and patience, he would’ve done it by now.

“someone’s tired, huh?” he cooed at you, crossing one leg over the other. “you should go sleep in the room you got the clothes from. i’d prefer for you to stay until your ankle is fully healed, just in case.”

you nodded slowly, another yawn ripped from your throat as you got up and stretched your arms over your head. the movement caused the skirt of your nightgown to ride up, his breath hitching as he realised if it went up any further head be able to see your lacy white undergarments you’d borrowed from the dresser too. he distracted himself with a chuckle, standing up and guiding you out of the dining room to the bedroom by the small of your back.

before you knew it, you were on your back on the bed of the bedroom that supposedly belonged to his sister. your dress fell over your body entrancingly, tempting his hungry eyes as he stood over you, adoring the way your hair laid on the satin pillow. you turned to your side and curled up with your knees pulled to your chest. he caught a glimpse of your lacy panties before they fell over the swell of your ass as if they hadn’t moved in the first place.

thoughts swarmed his mind, none of them appropriate. he imagined your legs wrapped around his waist, burying himself into the curve of your neck, sculpted for his face to fit right there. he longed to feel your soft curves against his fingers, not a single layer of clothing separating you.

“hwa?” the way you said his name made his thoughts snap to reality as his eyes found yours. the nickname sounded so wonderful with your voice, he wanted to bottle up the sound and keep it safe on a shelf for the rest of eternity. not only that, but the way you looked at him, lips parted softly with small breaths, cheeks flushed, and eyes looking wide and innocent. oh, how innocent you smelled to him. he was torn between preserving it and corrupting it.

“yes, love?” he whispered back, brushing a strand of your hair from you face as casually as possible.

“thank you… for everything,” you whispered, peering up at him with those same glittering round eyes, “i’ll be sure to repay you for your kindness when i can.”

“there’s no need, really. it’s nothing,” he chuckled quietly, gaze flitting all over your features—you fluttering eyelashes, the slope of your nose, the curve of your neck, the slight upturn of the corners of your lips. he took a deep breath as discreetly as possible, reminding himself that there was a chance he wouldn’t be able to convince you to stay with him, he shouldn’t get too attached just yet.

somehow, he held himself back from pulling you into his arms and kissing you breathless. he pulled his hand back after letting his thumb brush against your cheekbone for a moment.

“i’ll let you rest now,” he whispered, “sleep well. i’ll see you in the morning, love.”

you muttered a soft ‘goodnight, hwa’ in return before he was out of the room and shutting the door a second later.

the door clicked shut and you heard his footsteps getting more and more distant. you let out another quiet yawn, pulling the comfortable blanket over your body and up to your chin. your room was quiet, the silence oddly comforting. something about the place had that feel and despite being so far underground, it didn’t feel claustrophobic at all. you compared it to home, your parents always bickering with each other or taking out their frustrations on you. it felt nice to be in a quiet space again, and you briefly wondered if you could stay a little longer than another day.

your eyelids became heavier with each blink in the dark before they ultimately closed completely, pulling you into a deep sleep.

though you didn’t expect it to last so long, over a week passed and you were still staying with him in his little cave house. you didn’t mind, of course, since he took such great care of you. in the week, you’d grown closer, treating each other like lovers though neither of you brought it up. he’d let you sit in his lap and you’d let him brush his fingers through your hair.

you stirred awake, one day short of having spent two weeks with him. today was one of those days where he’d gone out to run some errands, trusting you enough to leave you alone. with not much to do, you usually sat in his little library or took a nap until the evening. this time you chose the latter.

some hair clung to the thin layer of sweat on your forehead, your blanket displaced and only covering half of your left leg, having kicked it off in your sleep. for a second you couldn’t remember where you were, but memories of the previous days returned quickly and you relaxed before sitting up and looking around the room. the candle had stayed on overnight, providing light in a place where windows really couldn’t exist.

there was no indication of the time other than a clock on one of the bedside tables. assuming it was functional and accurate, it was 10:24 in the evening. you hummed, surprised you’d slept so much when usually you’d be awake hours before that. with a quiet groan, you realised there was no point in going back to bed, pulling yourself off the mattress and to the door.

you reached for the door handle but paused, pulling back to check yourself in the mirror. not wanting to look like a mess in front of seonghwa, you readjusted your dress so it sat on your body properly and tried your best to make your hair appear less messy. only then did you tiptoe your way out of your bedroom and to the sitting room.

he was back already, sat on the couch and readings a book, back straight and one leg crossed elegantly over the other. he wore something different. instead of the loose white shirt, black slacks and black corset, he now wore a black vest that had sheer black sleeves with black slacks. the neckline of his vest dipped low, revealing the lean muscles of his chest. you forced yourself to look away, settling into the armchair across from him, separated by a long coffee table.

“i don’t bite, you know,” he spoke without looking up from his book, sounding amused that you sat so far away after how close you’d been the night before.

your daze cracked, chuckling as you stood and walking around the coffee table to sit beside him on his right. though you weren’t touching, a few centimetres of space between you, you could feel his body heat radiating off him. he glanced down at your exposed thighs briefly before continuing to read, or at least trying to. his eyes were stuck on the same line for a minute, distracted by the way you leaned your head on his shoulder to read with him.

he contemplated pulling you onto his lap, missing the feel of your weight against him like the night before. you had insisted for him to carry you to bed, pouty and tired, and when he did, he had a hard time letting go of you and ended up sitting with his back against the headboard with you snuggled safely on his lap until you fell asleep.

knowing you wouldn’t mind, he moved his right arm around your waist, slipping his hand down to your hip to make pulling you onto his lap easier. once you were there, straddling him so prettily, he let you rest the side of your head on his shoulder, your nose brushing against his neck as he tried his best to maintain his focus on his book. to the world he was a merciless king, but with you in his lap he was tender and caring.

you shifted your head, trying to look down at the book he was reading. your breath tickled him as you spoke. “what’re you reading?”

“oh,” he turned the book over for you to see the title. he let you read over, revelling in the feeling of your nose and lips accidentally grazing his neck. it tested every inch if his patience. feeling your heart beat against his chest and wanting so desperately to crawl into your ribcage, cradling your heart in his hands and peppering the beating muscle with kisses. he cleared his throat. “it’s a collection of poetry and letters.”

“you like poetry?” you giggled quietly and he swore he could taste the sweetness of it.

“i do,” he nodded, the tips of his ears dusted a rosy pink, “would you like me to read some to you?”

the offer made you feel giddy for some reason, glancing up at him with a grin as you nodded. you could only imagine how poetry would sound spoken by his divine voice.

seonghwa snickered at your excitement, flipping through the pages of his book to find something worthy of your ears. he stopped at a page near the end, his hand dropping back to your hip as he began reading. he traced a finger over your hipbone as he did, the light pressure making you squirm lightly in his lap.

“i have never surrendered myself entirely to anyone but you, and only recently. and to let my heart speak, when i am pressed against you, is an emotion and a peace that overflows all imagination.”

by the time he finished reading it, you were holding your breath, heart hammering against your ribs so hard you had no doubt he’d be able to feel it. the way he said it sounded less like a recitation and more like a confession, your stomach buzzing with anticipation as you sat up to look at him face to face, eye to eye, your hands resting on his chest.

your touch drove him to insanity. the soft press of your fingers against his vest, making it that much harder to hold himself back. he wanted to hold you against him forever. to inhale your scent so that his lungs would depend on you and only you. to touch you, to kiss you, to knit your flesh to his so you’d never leave him, to devour you, consume you. he wanted to do it all.

he could only whisper, “may i?”

his words echoed what he said before tending to your ankle two weeks prior, the day you first met him. that felt so long ago, a nostalgic smile tugging at your lips as you nodded.

his hand squeezed you hip gently while the other moved to cup your jaw, wasting no time in pulling your face to his. it was a slow, reverent kiss that filled every inch of your senses with warmth. your lips felt softer than he imagined. when your lips finally touched, your fingers curled into his vest, sighing against his lips softly.

he shuddered at the sound, pulling your hips tighter against him and pressing his lips against yours a little harder, your body perfectly molded to his as if that’s where you belonged. his tongue ran along your bottom lip, not pushing into your mouth, just tasting you enough to satiate his growing hunger. despite the way your hips rolled against him, guided by his hand and eliciting subtle gasps against his lips, he couldn’t help but still find you so sweet, so innocent, as you let him kiss you breathless.

in a way, you reminded him of a little lamb, hunted by a wolf. one could say you had tamed him. he could easily tear out your throat, add you to his collection of souls, yet he decided to kiss you instead. kiss you so softly your cheeks warmed.

the next time your eyes fluttered open, you somehow found yourself in your room, still on his lap as he sat on the edge. his kisses slowed, being replaced with repeated pecks before he pulled away fully to rest his forehead against yours, panting.

he sighed your name and for a second you felt the world stop, the sound making your head spin. “darling, please, let me taste you.”

your breath hitched at his whispered request, suddenly aware of your panties sticking to your wet core. wordlessly, you nodded and he manoeuvred you to lay on your back, making sure your head rested on your pillow comfortably.

he kissed your forehead, then your lips. from there he kissed his way further down over your nightgown—your jaw, neck, shoulder, collarbone, the valley of your breast, your stomach, hipbones, the top of your pelvis—all the while murmuring praises of how beautiful you were. his hands rested on your waist and moved down to your thighs, spreading them apart without resistance as he kneeled between them.

with a final look at your curious face, looking down and following his every action with your eyes, he dragged the end of your skirt up, revealing more and more of your smooth thighs and baby blue cotton panties. he thought they were cute as he let the dress bunch up at your waist, leaning down to kiss the little satin bow of your undergarments before hooking his finger through them.

he began dragging them down but stopped abruptly when you place a hand over his own, worried eyes darting to look at you. all you had to do was say the word and he’d stop.

“no one has ever… you know,” you blushed, too shy to say no one had ever eaten you out, only giving your lower half a meaningful glance.

relieved, he chuckled lowly and kissed the hand atop his. “you know i’ll be careful, darling. just relax, okay?”

once you relaxed as he told you to, he slipped his fingers between yours, using his other hand to slip your underwear down and off you, tossing them in a random direction before finally taking a look at the parts of you he craved the most. he nearly moaned at the sight of your folds, glistening in the dim light as your engorged clit begged for his attention.

leaning down to kiss your inner thighs first, his tongue slid between your folds, licking an experimental stripe from your hole to your clit, drawing a soft whine from you. he himself groaned at the taste, the sweet nectar that seeped from your body.

“fuck, you taste so good.”

your thighs quivered around his head as he pushed his face deep into your heat, lapping up your juices and sucking at your nub with the desperation of a starved man. each prod of his tongue had your breath shaking, whimpering, as he drove you closer and closer to the edge. before, you figured it would feel good, but not quite this delicious.

when you came, you came with a faint cry of his name, body arching of the bed. your hand that didn’t hold his moved to his hair at some point during his meal, tugging softly as your juices gushed out and you twitched from overstimulation, his tongue unrelenting and determined to swallow every last drop of your release.

he pulled away as you tugged at his hair, moving his torso up your body to kiss you. it was less a kiss and more feverish presses against each other, his tongue wandering between your teeth and making you taste yourself. you couldn’t taste much, but to his sensitive taste buds you were the sweetest thing he’d ever had.

his hips pressed against yours and your breath hitched, feeling the weight of his erection straining against his pants and nudging your aching clit. he pulled back from your lips, searching your eyes for any sign that you wanted to stop. but you only nodded encouragingly and he grinned, his lips moving to your neck as he helped you sit up so he could pull your dress off you and finally see everything he’d been fantasising about.

he detached his lips from your pulse point to pull it the rest of the way and toss it in a random direction, his eyes trained on your breasts. they were just as pretty as he imagined, nudging you to lay down again so he could take one erect nipple into his mouth and suck and lick and kiss it and around it.

“you look so pretty right now, love,” he muttered against your skin as he kissed his way to your other breast, his hands working on releasing himself from his pants while yours unbuttoned his vest, hands shaking with want.

you closed your eyes and leaned your head back against your pillow, your fingers gripping onto his bare shoulders as he dragged his tip through your folds, gathering your wetness. he kissed your cheek.

“tell me if anything hurts, okay?”

only once you breathed an ‘okay’ did he begin pushing in. he was blessed with a cock so big and perfect it hit every sensitive spot in your walls with precision as his length filled you slowly. his tip alone had you gasping softly, moaning incoherently as your eyes rolled back and fell shut, the stretch somehow pleasing you.

when he bottomed out, his eyes were drawn to the way he could see himself pressing through the bottom of your stomach, groaning as he passed his hand over the area and felt the bump. he stilled inside you, not moving until you told him so.

“p-please move, hwa.”

his pace throughout was relaxed, slow but not painfully slow, just enough roughness to his grinds to leave you breathless without tipping you over the edge just yet. it was when his hand slipped under your waist and angled you differently that you began feeling the familiar knot tighten in your abdomen.

he had a hard time stopping himself from releasing the moment he entered you, your walls hugging him so perfectly he choked back a moan with each stroke. everything about you felt as if you’d been made for him to worship, for him to indulge in. before you had come along, there was that occasional craving of romance, of wanting someone. he longed for someone to hold his hand, whose eyes replied to his so lovingly.

and there you were, beneath him, squeezing one of his hands while your dilated pupils showed him just how much you wanted him too.

you bit down on your bottom lip to hold back your sounds, something that made him chuckle and kiss the bridge of your nose. “don’t be shy, i want to hear you.”

his quiet praises made your face warm, letting out the softest of moans as his words shot straight to your core.

“you take me so well, love.” “you’re so precious and all mine.” “keep your eyes on me, darling.”

at some point his deep slow strokes grew needy and faster, pounding against your g-spot repeatedly as moans and whimpers of the two of you filled the room, hot breaths mingling with each other. your next orgasm crashed down on you with little warning, your walls squeezing around him as he muffled your sounds with his lips.

he came soon after that, filling you with his release after you had told him it was okay. his face dropped into the crook of your neck, cock twitching until his body slumped against yours.

after cleaning you up with a damp towel and slipping a new pair of panties over your legs, he joined you in bed once more and wrapped his arms around you. your legs tangled together and your chest pressed against his, your head tucked under his chin as you drifted back to sleep, lazy kisses placed onto the crown of your head.

he sighed softly and shut his eyes, filled with thoughts. now that he’s had you, he could hardly see himself letting go of you. but why would he? you were all he wanted and more.

networks. @cromernet @wonderlandnet @cultofdionysusnet @pirateeznet

permanent taglist. @ad0rechuu @sankatchu @mlink64 @yeosangsbb @seonghwasbbgirl @likexaxdaydream @dreamingofyeo @yalyallic @yunhoswrldddd @coffee-addict-kitten @thunderous-wolf @chngbnwf

[chuulyssa]

──── the third of december, me in your sweater

synopsis ⸺ the winter is chilly, and you curse yourself for not thinking twice before leaving your jacket at home.

pairing ⸺ gojo, geto, toji, sukuna, nanami, megumi, yuji, yuta x reader

cw ⸺ fluff

gojo satoru

he notices you shivering immediately. his gaze drops to his own sweater, which is a bit too warm and a bit too lonely for him. so when you least expect it, he steps forward to block your way and somehow, in a way that is both dramatic and casual, he shakes it off his own shoulders and places it over yours.

“cold, huh? guess you’re in luck, baby — your favorite guy is here to save the day.”

he then steps back to admire you in his clothing, and when you open your mouth to thank him, he holds a hand up to stop you.

“don’t thank me yet. i’m charging interest — your smile counts as the payment.”

he teases you about how “lucky” you are to get a guy like him, you know, someone who is ready to sacrifice everything, that is, his sweater, for you. he leans in close just to fluster you and plants a little kiss on your cold nose.

as he walks beside you, he pretends to shiver without it as if to make you feel guilty, even though you know he isn’t cold at all. pausing his act every now and then, he steals glances at you, and his annoying smile seems to soften into something genuine every time he does so. definitely stops you at every aesthetic-looking location to take pics of you, he is your personal photographer after all, and you in his clothing just peaks his interest even more!

“woah. I thought I looked good in it, but you might’ve just one-upped me, pretty. i’m now officially upset and can only be fixed with kisses.”

geto suguru

he notices you huddling into yourself before even you realize how cold you are. he is a very observant person. the little lingering of your fingers as they dig into your arms, the subtle rubbing of your palms, he notices it all.

so wordlessly, he pulls off his sweater, shakes it out and drapes it over your shoulders carefully. he takes your hands in his and intertwines his fingers with yours. he adjusts the sleeves of the sweater with the other hand and stays close to you to warm you up. you smile at him gratefully, and he presses a kiss at your knuckles.

“you shouldn’t have to thank me. i’d rather freeze to death than see you shiver.”

he looks at you as if impressed. his lips twitch into a small, soft smile when he sees your body relax at his touch.

“you wear it better than i ever could.”

when you question him about when you should give the item back, he chuckles and shakes his head, wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you even closer.

“no, don’t give it back. it suits you. and besides, it’s nice seeing you in my clothes.”

toji fushiguro

he is not the most observant person around, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t care. i mean, sure, you have to complain a bit about the weather and how chilly the december morning is, maybe even sniffle and cough a bit to get the problem through his thick skull, but you do succeed eventually.

“you’re too soft for this weather. here.”

he throws his sweater at your head with a grumble, watching you try to catch it and grinning at you as you try not to drop it. he crosses his arms, watching as you pathetically try to get used to the large size of his clothing. he also 100% calls you a “flailing fish”, and no, you’re never gonna live the insult down. but no matter how “dorky” he says you look in the sweater, his gaze still softens whenever he is looking at you.

he eventually rolls his eyes when he sees that you are not able to put the sweater on correctly, and leans in closer to you to tug the collar forward to fix it. then he ruffles your hair and leans back to check you out get a good look at you.

“there. problem solved. don’t get used to it though, it’s mine.”

ryomen sukuna

of course, he does notice, though he pretends not to. you know that very well. well enough, apparently, that you don’t even bother to ask him, and just straight up steal it from his big ahh closet, knowing he won’t miss it anyway. i mean, who would’ve thought the king of curses needed a sweater anyway? he roams around shirtless half the time, so you figured he won’t notice it.

but notice, he does.

“stealing my stuff now? bold of you.”

and god, ryomen sukuna, the man you are. because if he knew you were into his clothes earlier, he wouldn’t have ripped as many shirts off himself as he usually does on a daily basis. because even though you think he would be mad, he just pauses you and his eyes glide over your entire body and he leans back and crosses his arms.

“you look ridiculous,” he says after a moment of silence, though the way his gaze lingers on you tells you that he might not be entirely telling the truth.

soon after though, he makes a show of demanding it back. grabbing you by the waist and throwing you over his shoulder to “punish you for your thievery”, though you can feel uraume snickering at the way he tries to hide the look of absolute glee on his face to have you close to him.

kento nanami

he notices, he does, but he doesn’t act on it for quite some time. why? because giving you his clothing, or anything close to that for that matter, feels too intimate for the fragile bond that had been created between the two of you. he doesn’t understand why, but it feels like one wrong step could shatter what the two of you have.

eventually though, when it becomes unbearable for him to watch you rub your palms together to create little friction, he takes off his jacket carefully and drapes it over your shoulders neatly. he helps you put your arms into the sleeves of the jacket and makes sure it’s positioned perfectly tidy.

when you try to argue that the weather is cold enough for him to be wearing something to protect him too, he waves a hand politely to refuse.

“it’s only practical. you need it more than i do right now.”

he is only staring at you for the rest of your walk though, and something in his gaze makes you feel like looking at you helps him forget just how freezing the breezes are. when you reach your house, you wave him goodbye, silently praying he won’t ask for his jacket back. he only smiles at you.

“you can give it back later… or not.”

megumi fushiguro

like his father, he won’t do anything until you directly complain on his face about the chilly weather. not because he’s an airhead but because he’d rather you use your own words to tell him what you want instead of setting expectations from him.

he grimaces and grumbles but pulls off his sweater anyway. he hands it over to you and mutters begrudgingly to you. “here. just don’t stretch it out, okay?”

of course he’s flustered, but he’s also a bitch (/lh) so he likes to pretend to not notice how well his clothing fits you. he secretly notes the size and makes sure to buy the same from now on so it could fit both of you.

he asks you to show him how you look from the back, you know, just to see if you’re wearing it correctly of course, nothing more than that. when you twirl around to show him just that, the divine dogs he’s been holding on a leash jump up and down excitedly, and he tries to ignore the fact that his shikigami are supposed to be a replica of what he feels at the moment.

so when you ask him how you look, he'll only look away, hide his face in a hand and mumble, “you look fine, i guess. now stop complaining.”

itadori yuji

he notices. he thinks. he offers. that’s my king.

immediately insists, literally begs for you to wear his sweater with zero hesitation, even if you attempt to refuse.

“no way am i letting you freeze! take it! please! :3”

he watches you put it on slowly over your arms and then your head. all the while he has this a big, goofy grin on his face as if he has just conquered the world. he starts murmuring to himself about how pretty you look in his clothes, and how he should lend them to you more often.

when you question what he just said, his cheeks turn red and he stumbles upon his words before quickly diverting the topic and babbling about some human earthworm 4.

when you ask him when you have to return it, he awkwardly scratches the back of his neck and suggests, “never...? i mean, your choice, obviously, but, i thought— i don’t know what i thought actually. i kinda just short-circuited a few moments ago.”

okkotsu yuta

he notices, but he’s worried he’ll seem too forward or creepy if he asks you to wear his sweater. he knacks his brain to recall any romantic advice panda might’ve shared with him about this matter. did girls like it when you gave them your stuff? how would you even give your stuff anyway? do you just... give it? or do you—?

“it’s cold, isn’t it?” you interrupt him, looking at him expectantly.

“wha? oh yeah, yeah. um, here! you can wear this!” he excitedly but gingerly takes his sweater off and adjusts it carefully around you. his fingers brush against your shoulder and he looks away immediately as if scared at the contact he just made with you. you ask how you look, and he stutters a bit.

“i— i think it looks good on you. like… really good. i mean, you always look good, of course.”

you smile at him to thank him and he flushes. he mutters about how you can keep it for today, or as long as you liked, or maybe even forever if you wanted, because he had too many of them anyway, and he’d rather share it with the one person he likes the most in the whole world. obviously, he doesn’t say all that aloud; okkotsu yuta would faint if he tried.

© chuulyssa 2024 - do not copy, plagiarize or repost my works on any platforms. do not translate.

[latrespada]

ᯓ ✈︎ rotten to the core

Caleb’s jealousy knows no bounds. He becomes fiercely possessive whenever anyone gets too close to you, especially if he sees you interacting with someone else. The moment he perceives a threat, a "punishment" follows, one that’s far from ordinary. His discipline feels more like a mix of control and intimacy, blurring the line between pain and pleasure. As intense as it is, you can’t help but crave more, questioning if it’s truly a punishment when it leaves you yearning for more of him.

lads caleb x reader

warnings: jealousy, teasing, light bondage, couch sex, finger sucking, caleb's evol going out of control, slight choking, possessive sex, rough sex, sex while on the phone

6k words rated : e

https://archiveofourown.org/works/62332453

A/N: I find Caleb's jealousy attractive; not the toxic kind, but the pathetic type that tries to one-up everyone, even over trivial matters. Also the possessive jealousy. That is HOT!!

Take note of Caleb’s outfit in this; it's that nerdy one he wore in his trailer when he’s upset for poking his plumpy butt. The one with the white sleeveless top and his thick, beefy, veiny bicep. And the glasses.

If you don't know what I mean, check it out : https://x.com/kittysylus/status/1879371878793724285/photo/2

CRED divider by @enchanthings-a

The golden hues of the setting sun spill through the windows as you step into your home, finally free after a long day of finishing work reports and your monthly physical. The sight of Caleb sprawled out on the couch immediately warms you. He’s lounging with one arm propped behind his head, a book balanced casually in his hand, the picture of relaxed ease.

“I’m home,” you call out as you flop onto the couch, not caring that you’re practically lying on him.

“Hectic day?” he asks, his voice low, a welcome balm to your weary mind.

“Not really,” you murmur, rolling onto your back and wedging yourself into the narrow space between him and the couch cushions. “I’d still rather be off fighting Wanderers than stuck doing paperwork, though.”

“At least you weren’t in danger,” Caleb replies, turning a page in his book before tucking his arm back behind his head.

You sigh deeply, staring at the ceiling. “I had another appointment with Zayne today. The results are steady, which is good. I just have to keep taking my meds.”

Caleb’s tone shifts slightly when he replies, darker somehow. “Is that so?”

You glance up at him, sensing the tension in his words. He’s staring at the book, but it’s clear his thoughts are miles away.

“Yeah…” you answer cautiously, tilting your head to catch his eye. When he notices your gaze, he snaps the book shut and tosses it to the floor with a thud.

“Does Zayne really need to be your doctor?” Caleb asks abruptly, his voice laced with something unspoken.

You blink, startled. “I mean, he’s the best cardiologist—”

“I know that,” Caleb interrupts, his words sharp but not unkind. “But that doesn’t really answer my question.” He reaches out and places a hand over your face, shaking your head gently, as if to dismiss the topic.

You bat his hand away and sit up, turning to face him directly. “Don’t I deserve the best there is?” Your tone carries a faint edge, one you didn’t intend, but it’s there nonetheless—a hint of hurt.

Caleb frowns, his expression clouding with something close to jealousy. “You do,” he admits, but the words come out like a hiss.

“Then Zayne will stay my doctor,” you say firmly, standing and blowing him a playful kiss as you make your way toward the kitchen.

Behind you, Caleb mutters under his breath, then calls after you, “Why him, though? Isn’t there some policy against this?”

You stop in your tracks and turn to him, confused. “What are you talking about?”

Caleb gets up and strides toward you, his smirk not quite masking the seriousness in his eyes. “You can’t have some sort of intimate relationship with your doctor—family, romantic, whatever. Maybe I should report him.” He chuckles, but the sound is hollow.

You close the distance between you, placing a hand firmly on his chest. “That’s not funny, Caleb,” you say, pouting as you meet his gaze.

His laughter fades, replaced by a look you can’t quite read. The tension lingers in the air between you, heavy and unspoken, but the warmth of his presence anchors you nonetheless.

“I’m joking. Since when can’t you take a hint?” Caleb ruffles your hair as he walks past you, heading into the kitchen. He’s trying to play it cool, but there’s an edge to his voice, something unresolved. “What should we have for dinner?”

You lean over the counter, your arms folded, watching him closely. The way his shoulders tense, as he opens and closes cabinets, gives him away. It’s painfully obvious that his mind is still on Zayne.

You can’t help but laugh softly to yourself.

Caleb freezes mid-motion, turning to face you with a puzzled expression. “Oh great, you’re probably thinking of a joke he said.”

You snort. “Zayne and jokes, really?”

Silence falls between you, heavy but not uncomfortable. The two of you lock eyes, a silent battle of wills. His expression falters for just a second, enough for you to see that even he knows how ridiculous his comment is. Zayne’s humor is notoriously flat, and everyone knows it. Caleb breaks eye contact first, turning back to rummage through the cabinets, feigning interest in their contents.

You rest your chin on your crossed arms, a smirk playing on your lips as you study him. You know Caleb like the back of your hand—better than anyone. He’s never been one to openly admit jealousy, but his actions scream it louder than words ever could. Caleb has a compulsive need to be the one who makes you smile the widest, laugh the loudest, and feel the most alive.

The thing is, Caleb’s never shown this kind of jealousy toward Zayne before. Back in the day, things were simple; everyone was friendly, and there was no room for these petty emotions. But ever since you became a hunter, with mandatory check-ups and more frequent visits to Zayne’s clinic, Caleb’s demeanor started to shift. Not that he’d ever outright forbid you from doing something—he knows better than to try that—but his subtle, possessive tendencies? Oh, they’re there, and they’re obvious.

You bite your lip, a mischievous glint in your eyes. You’re plotting now, deliberately trying to press his buttons.

“You’re so clingy, Caleb,” you drawl, dragging the words out just enough to poke the bear.

“Hm.” His nonchalant response is laced with tension.

“I mean, just last week, you did the same thing.”

That gets him. Caleb slams a box of pasta onto the counter with a thud, his palms splaying out as he leans forward, head tilting back toward the ceiling like he’s begging for patience. He inhales deeply before turning his head, not his body, to look at you. His eyes are sharp, and piercing, and there’s an intensity to them that makes your breath hitch.

“I said I was sorry,” he says, his tone eerily calm, almost robotic.

“Yeah, well, things escalated, and he heard us,” you grumble, leaning back for effect.

Caleb picks up the pasta box again, shaking it as he waves his arms dramatically. “Why does the upstairs neighbor even need to talk to you every time he sees you?” he complains. “What’s his name again, Xander?”

“Xavier,” you correct without missing a beat.

Caleb freezes mid-motion. His shoulders stiffen as he turns his head just slightly, his expression neutral but with just enough of a comedic edge—thick-framed glasses perched on his nose, his jaw set—to make you stifle a laugh.

You catch the faintest twitch in his bicep, a telltale sign that your teasing is working.

You press your hand to your mouth, trying to smother a grin and the laughter bubbling in your throat. You know full well that Caleb remembers Xavier’s name perfectly; he just deliberately got it wrong to downplay how much he pays attention. And now, judging by the look on his face, he regrets giving you an opening to correct him.

“He’s my work partner,” you say with a light chuckle, trying to sound casual. “We were talking about work…” You pause briefly for effect, watching his expression remain frozen. “A work gathering.”

The silence that follows is heavy with unspoken thoughts, but the way Caleb’s jaw tightens just enough lets you know you’ve gotten under his skin. You don’t mind, though—it’s all part of the game.

“And what? Did this Xavier complain?” Caleb sneers, dragging out the name like it leaves a bad taste in his mouth. His exaggerated disdain is so obvious, it’s hard not to laugh.

“No,” you reply with a chuckle. “Worried, maybe. But honestly, how do you even explain that situation?”

Caleb rolls his eyes in mock frustration, the gesture exaggerated but not unexpected.

“And to answer your earlier question,” you continue, pointing a finger at him while puckering your lips for emphasis, “Zayne isn’t breaking any rules.”

Caleb’s gaze drops to the box of pasta in his hands as if seeking answers there. His silence speaks volumes, and you can almost see the cogs turning in his head. He’s not even trying to mask his annoyance anymore.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” you tease, leaning casually against the counter. “Zayne and I do have a personal connection, but that was way before he became my doctor. Besides, we lost touch long before any of that. So, technically…” you smirk, “no rules are being broken.”

Caleb tosses the pasta box onto the counter with the dramatics of a jilted soap opera star, the motion so over-the-top it makes you laugh.

His jealousy is nothing new—it’s always been there, simmering beneath the surface. But when it comes to Zayne, it’s glaringly obvious and almost endearing. What makes it funnier is that the jealousy is entirely one-sided.

He doesn’t speak. Instead, he just stares, his gaze unyielding but not threatening, more predatory. The intensity in his eyes sends a shiver down your spine, but you bite your lip to hide the thrill it gives you.

Finally, Caleb strides toward you with purpose. Your arms instinctively fling open as if welcoming his approach, and his hands grip your waist firmly—almost possessively. It stings, but not unpleasantly. Before you can process it, you hop up, wrapping your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck.

His nose brushes against yours, the warmth of his breath fanning across your lips as he whispers, “It’s not fair. He gets to listen to your heart, to be so close to your chest.”

You laugh softly, his childish complaint both absurd and hypocritical. Caleb spends more time listening to your heartbeat than Zayne ever could. Every chance he gets, he lays his head on your chest, claiming it’s his right.

“Zayne needs a stethoscope to hear my heart,” you tease, letting your voice drop into a husky, breathy tone. “But you don’t need that.”

In one swift motion, Caleb spins you around and lays you flat against the counter, his hands gripping your hips. His lips trail down your torso, his breath hot against your skin.

“I should be the only one listening to your heart,” he murmurs, his voice low and possessive. “I mean, I’m pretty sure I know every inch of your body better than any doctor. Why would you even need them?”

“Doctors can tell a murmur from a regular heartbeat,” you retort with a smirk.

“I’m done talking about cardiology,” Caleb mutters, his grin wicked. “I was talking about other doctors.”

He spreads your legs slightly, resting his head against your stomach, his breath fanning over your skin as he exhales deeply.

“Am I being punished again?” you ask, your voice laced with a mix of amusement and curiosity.

“Do you want to be?” he mumbles, his lips brushing against your skin.

You chuckle softly, biting your bottom lip. “No.” With a quick push against his head, you slide off the counter before he can pin you further. “I need to get out of these clothes. It’s been a long day,” you say, your tone dripping with sass.

As you move past him, Caleb grabs your wrist, his grip firm but not forceful. “Let me help, then.”

“No,” you reply, shaking his hand off with mock defiance.

He sighs, his voice dipping into a playful growl. “Be a good girl.”

“No.”

“Sit.”

Before you can process what’s happening, your knees buckle, and you find yourself on all fours, your hands bracing against the floor for balance. Caleb’s gravity control Evol pins you down just enough to make his point.

“Atta girl,” he teases, his tone light yet commanding. He crouches before you, tilting your chin up with a gentle but firm hand. “Let. Me. Help. You.”

“He’s going to hear us again,” you giggle, finally achieving the reaction you’d been aiming for.

“Then tell him to stop eavesdropping, pipsqueak,” Caleb retorts with a smirk.

Releasing his control, he effortlessly picks you up and tosses you over his shoulder. With a playful grin, he throws you onto the couch and towers over you, his overwhelming and intoxicating presence.

“Another word and I’ll have to keep you quiet,” he warns, reaching for his glasses.

You grab his wrists, your eyes wide and pleading. “No, don’t!” you gasp, as if what you’re about to say is of utmost importance. “I really like those glasses,” you pant.

He pauses, his confusion almost comical.

“I think they’re better than Zayne’s,” you add with a sly smile, exhaling deeply.

Caleb’s lips twitch as he suppresses a grin. “You’re so greedy when you want something, aren’t you?” Without waiting for a reply, he slips two fingers into your mouth, his touch teasing and deliberate, a silent dare for you to defy him again.

The wet, suctioning sound of your lips wrapped around Caleb’s fingers is maddeningly erotic, a melody of your surrender and his control. His fingers press harder against your tongue, sending a jolt down your spine. You gag reflexively, but instead of pulling away, your hands shoot up to grip his wrists, holding him in place, determined not to cough them out. His fingers glide in and out in steady, rhythmic waves, teasing and deliberate, while your chest rises and falls with labored breaths. Tears prick the corners of your eyes, but you keep them locked on his lips.

Caleb’s tongue darts out, wetting his lips before his teeth catch the bottom one in a fierce bite. His eyes, dark with intent, linger on the way your cheeks hollow with every movement of his hand. It’s written all over his face: this is a prelude to what he really wants. He’d rather have your mouth working over his dick than his fingers.

With a low chuckle, he pulls his fingers free, leaving your lower lip glistening with saliva. He holds his hand up, watching the way the wetness glimmers under the dim light. “You really enjoy using yourself as your own lubricant, don’t you?” he says with a teasing laugh, his voice dripping with smug amusement.

“It’s natural,” you pant, wiping the corner of your mouth with the back of your hand.

Caleb shifts, rising onto his knees as he peels off his shirt, tossing it carelessly onto the coffee table. His toned torso gleams, and he snaps his fingers at you, motioning for you to sit up straight. You comply without hesitation, adjusting your posture as he towers over you.

With one knee between your legs and the other planted firmly on the couch, he removes his dog tag, dragging the cool chain across your face. “You know the rules,” he says, his grin wicked.

You pout, rolling your eyes. “I gave you that as a gift, and you’re always using it for your twisted games.”

He smirks. “Then get me another one.”

“No way. It’s one of a kind.” You slide your hands up his torso, fingers tracing every dip and ridge of his muscles. “There’s no duplicate. It’s yours and only yours,” you murmur, cupping his face. Finally, you clasp your wrists together in silent surrender, signaling you’re ready.

Caleb places the dog tag between his teeth. He tugs at the hem of your shirt and in one swift motion, it’s off, discarded to the side. You unclasp your bra, letting it slip from your shoulders as he deftly begins wrapping the chain around your wrists.

“You could use your evol this time,” you suggest, your voice sultry and playful.

His hands pause for a moment, his eyes focused on the chain. “Yeah,” he mutters, though his tone is uncertain. “Last time I tried that, I used it on the bed instead of you. Snapped the legs and bottom planks clean off.”

A smile escapes you, breaking the tension. “That was your fault.”

“Fair,” he admits with a mischievous grin, “but with the way you were screaming my name and begging for more, I got… distracted.” He pulls the chain taut around your wrists, his eyes locking with yours. The tightness isn’t just around your wrists—it’s in the air, a tension so thick it makes your heart race.

Before you can say anything, he grabs his shirt that he tossed aside earlier. Caleb moves behind the couch, you tilt your head back to catch a glimpse of him. He’s smiling, a wicked grin that makes your pulse race. He steps closer, and gently pushes your head forward. “Let’s try something new,” he murmurs, his voice low and teasing. The soft fabric of the shirt wraps around your eyes, plunging you into darkness.

Your heart stutters, a mix of excitement and apprehension swelling inside you. What does he have planned? Did you push him too far this time? The not knowing leaves you vulnerable, every nerve ending alive with anticipation. Bound and blindfolded, you realize the gravity of your position. Your hands are useless, your sight is gone, and as the shirt muffles the sounds around you, you feel the loss of another sense creeping in. You’re at his mercy, and the uncertainty is both thrilling and maddening.

You strain your ears, desperate for any clue to his movements. The soft padding of his footsteps echoes faintly, but you can’t discern their direction. Is he in front of you? Behind you? The muffled noise seems to come from everywhere and nowhere. You sit still, biting your lip to stifle a nervous breath.

Then, the sound sharpens—familiar and unmistakable. His shoes hit the floor with a soft thud. Your breath hitches as the faint jingle of his belt buckle follows, the metallic clink chilling you to the core. The slow, deliberate rasp of his zipper being pulled down comes next, and you swallow hard. You hear the rustling of fabric sliding against his skin before the faint sound of his pants hitting the floor.

Your pulse pounds in your ears. Caleb is naked. And you are completely unaware of where he is. From which angle he’ll approach, you have no idea. The suspense builds with every passing second, your senses heightened as your imagination runs wild. Every breath, every rustle of fabric, every shift in the air sends a jolt of anticipation through you.

In an instant, you’re pulled, your body shifting swiftly before you can even process it. You find yourself lying awkwardly on the couch, your legs raised high, teetering off balance. The soft plop of your shoes hitting the floor fills the room, and then his hands are on you—strong, purposeful. His touch slides down your calves, lingering at your thighs before settling firmly. It’s clear now—your legs are on his shoulders.

The faint sound of your belt unbuckling breaks through the haze of anticipation, followed by the slow, deliberate unbuttoning of your pants. You feel the cool air on your skin as he slides them down with excruciating patience, taking your underwear with them. The quiet thud of your discarded clothes hitting the ground feels final, leaving you bare and exposed.

Caleb lowers your legs gently, guiding you upward. His hand rests on your back, firm yet careful, directing you as you take a few hesitant steps. The walk is short, and before you can ask what he’s doing, he presses your back forward, bending your upper body over the armrest of the couch. Your belly rests against the soft fabric as he positions you, spreading your legs apart just enough to make you feel vulnerable, your feet planted firmly on the ground.

His hands are warm as they settle on your lower back, and then you feel it—the slow, teasing slide of him rubbing against you. The head of his dick brushes your clit with deliberate precision, sending sparks of heat shooting through you. A silent moan escapes your lips as he continues the agonizing tease, his movements designed to drive you to the edge of madness.

Caleb leans in, his breath ghosting over your ear. “As of now,” he whispers, his voice low and dripping with desire, “I’m pretty sure I’m the only one who knows how fast your heart is going.” With no warning, he thrusts into you, forcing a gasp from your lips.

“Nngh… Caleb…” you moan, your voice trembling.

His rhythm is relentless from the start, his hips driving into you with an intensity that leaves you breathless. Each thrust pulls a sound from you, your bound hands trapped beneath your chest as the chain lightly grazes your skin, heightening every sensation.

“Haah… fuck,” Caleb groans, his voice rough with pleasure. “Do you even know… ha… how possessive I can get?”

You’re silent, unable to form words as your face presses into the couch, your teeth biting down on the fabric in an attempt to stifle your cries.

“And to… ahh, fuck,” he chuckles darkly, his voice strained. “To edge me on like that… mmhn… you must like—” His words are cut off by his guttural moan as his body shudders.

Leaning forward, his teeth sink into your shoulder, the sharp sensation blending with the intensity of his thrusts. His hips angle upward now, hitting a spot that sends you spiraling, his warm breath fanning across your skin.

“Mmmh, Caleb…” is all you can manage, your voice raw and pleading as he consumes every part of you.

Caleb shifts his weight, pulling back just long enough to stand upright. With fluidity and strength, he flips you onto your back. The movement leaves you momentarily breathless, your body pliant beneath his control. He raises one of your legs over his shoulder, his fingers gripping your calf with a possessive firmness. The other leg, he adjusts carefully, ensuring your foot rests securely on the armrest, but not before gently pushing it outward, spreading you even wider for him.

His breathing is labored now, audible and heavy, and though you can’t see him clearly, you can imagine the sight of his chest. Broad, muscular, and glistening with sweat, rising and falling with each ragged inhale. It’s a sight that would’ve stolen your breath, if it hadn’t already been taken by the moment.

One of his arms snakes around the leg draped over his shoulder, locking it in place with a grip that’s equal parts firm and tender. His other hand anchors itself on your hip, steadying you as he positions himself. And then he begins again.

The first thrust sends a jolt of pleasure through you, his rhythm rough yet calculated, each movement hitting the spot that leaves you trembling. His hips snap forward with a force that feels primal, yet controlled, a deliberate effort to draw out every sound, every reaction from you. You’re soaked, your arousal slick against him. The lewd sound of your bodies meeting fills the room, every thrust accompanied by the wet squelch of your fluids mixing. It’s intoxicating.

He leans in slightly, his lips hovering close, his voice dropping to a low, husky whisper as he murmurs your name. The way he says it feels reverent, like a prayer or a plea, and it makes your chest tighten.

“Yeah…” you breathe, your voice soft and airy, surrendering to the moment.

“Let me be…” he pauses, “…let me be the only one… to make your heart—” His voice falters, replaced by a sensual chuckle, deep and rough. “God, let me be the only one to make your heart race like this.”

“Mhm…” your reply comes out sweet but low, carried on a sigh. “Okay…”

The air between you and Caleb is electric, every touch igniting sparks that threaten to burn you from the inside out. With your leg still firm on the armrest, you use it to push your body to the other side, forcing Caleb to adjust. As your leg drops off his shoulder, he moves instinctively, following your silent invitation to walk around the couch.

Before you can process his next move, he’s sitting in front of you, pulling you up with ease until you’re perched on his lap. His hands are warm and firm, one gripping his dick as he guides himself back inside you, the other trailing up your back in a slow, deliberate motion. His fingers rake through your hair, sending shivers down your spine, before tangling and tugging gently but possessively. The motion tilts your head back, exposing the curve of your neck to him.

His lips hover there, a breath away from your skin, teasing, promising. You can feel the heat of his desire, the way his breathing deepens as he restrains himself from biting down.

“Mine,” he breathes, his voice thick and husky.

“Yours,” you moan in response, your voice trembling, “always yours.”

The words seem to fuel him further. He releases your hair and leans back into the sofa, his strong frame supporting you effortlessly. You stay balanced on your toes, knees bent, riding him with an aching, deliberate rhythm. His hands grip your waist tightly, guiding you, pulling you down harder onto him as your hips sway back and forth.

He curses your name, his voice dripping with raw hunger.

“Just like that…” he groans.

Your knees finally give out, and you collapse forward, your body trembling. Though your blindfold keeps you from seeing him, you can feel his presence—his lips so close to yours, the warmth of his breath mingling with your own. You bite your lip, a soft laugh escaping through a moan. With your bound hands, you fumble to touch his face, brushing against the frames of the glasses he kept on.

Your frustrated laugh makes him grin, and before you know it, he’s shifting you both, rolling you onto your side. Spooning you, Caleb pulls your top leg back, hooking it around his own. His arm snakes beneath you, gripping your neck gently but firmly, while his other hand finds your bound wrists. You feel his fingers slide beneath the chain binding them, his touch deliberate.

“If I take this off…” he murmurs, his hips pressing forward as he thrusts deeper, making you gasp. “You have to promise to keep the blindfold on. Got that?”

“Okay…” you manage to moan.

“That’s a good girl,” he groans, his laugh dark and low. With a swift pull, the chain loosens, and your hands are free. Before you can react, he places the dog tag in your mouth. “Here, bite this,” he commands, his lips brushing your ear as his tongue flicks against the sensitive skin behind it.

His pace picks up again, rough and insistent, each movement sending waves of heat through your body. His hand on your neck tightens ever so slightly, not enough to hurt, but enough to remind you that he’s in control.

His other hand moves to your breasts, squeezing and kneading, his grip leaving no doubt about how much he wants you.

Desperate to feel closer, you swing your now-free hand behind you, finding his face and pulling him down toward you.

“C-Caleb…” you choke out, his name a breathless plea.

“That’s it,” he chuckles against your skin, his teeth grazing your shoulder before biting down softly. “Say my name. Let me be the only name you call.”

His words are a command and a prayer, each syllable dripping with possession. He presses into you harder, his teeth grazing your skin again, his groans mingling with your moans.

The tension between you and Caleb is palpable, every motion from him driving you further into a realm where pleasure and desperation intertwine. His grip on your neck tightens, stealing your breath in the most intoxicating way, your vision blurring with unshed tears as your body reacts to his overwhelming dominance.

Your voice, broken and raw, escapes in a gagged gasp. “C-Caleb…” The dog tag tumbles from your lips, clinking faintly as it hits the surface below.

Without warning, he flips you onto your stomach. You barely have a moment to adjust before he pulls your hips upward, your breasts pressing into the couch. His thrusts are erratic, primal, and you claw at the armrest, arching your back deeply to meet him. His hand finds your hair, tugging harshly, while his other grips your waist with a force that leaves bruising promises. His silence, punctuated only by rough breaths and muffled grunts, speaks volumes.

You’ve witnessed this before—when his composure cracks and his evol flares, chaos is inevitable. Around you, the room trembles with his lack of control. Items crash to the floor, shattering against the walls. You gasp, instinctively reaching for the blindfold to tear it off, but Caleb’s hand leaves your hair and slams your wrist to the armrest.

“What did you promise?” he growls, his voice venomous yet dripping with that intoxicating edge of command. His fingers lace with yours, pinning your hand firmly.

His pace quickens, his movements losing all semblance of rhythm. You’re caught between gasping for air and choking on moans that feel too loud, too needy. Your head drops forward, but your body remains arched, submitting entirely to the chaos you ignited.

The destruction crescendos until it feels like the entire room collapses in a cacophony of falling objects and Caleb’s unrelenting presence. Then, it stops. Abruptly. Caleb pulls out and steps away, leaving you trembling, breathless, and straining to track his movements through the sound of his footsteps.

“Flip over,” he commands, his tone brooking no argument. You comply, lying on your back, your chest heaving.

He spreads your legs, his touch suddenly gentle as his fingers trace your most sensitive places. He slides them inside you, teasing, coaxing moans from your lips. It’s a stark contrast to his earlier ferocity, and it leaves you spinning.

Then you feel it—a cold, slightly heavy object placed on your chest. It vibrates softly, confusing you until you catch the faint ringing sound. A phone.

Your hand instinctively moves to grab it, but before you can pull your blindfold down to see who he’s calling, Caleb snatches the device away.

“Tch. You’re just not listening today, are you?” His voice carries a mix of irritation and amusement. “Invite him to dinner,” he says, his tone leaving no room for negotiation.

Confusion floods you. Who? But then the line connects, and you hear Zayne’s voice on the other end.

“Hello?” Zayne asks, his voice tinged with polite concern.

Your heart skips a beat as Caleb presses the phone to your ear and aligns himself with you once more, thrusting in with devastating precision. Your hand flies to your mouth, desperately trying to stifle the moan threatening to spill out.

“Zayne!” you yelp, your voice trembling. “W-would you like to… haaa… join Caleb and I for…” You trail off, unable to finish as Caleb’s pace intensifies.

There’s a pause on the other end. “I’ve got work to do, unfortunately,” Zayne replies, his tone shifting slightly, as if he’s picking up on something amiss. “Are you alright? You sound… in pain.”

“I’m okay,” you manage, your voice strained. “You sure… about dinner?”

Caleb chuckles softly, low enough that only you can hear, and it makes your cheeks burn.

“I’m sure,” Zayne says, his tone now skeptical. “Is it your heart? Is that what’s hurting?”

“What?” you gasp, your voice cracking.

“Is it your heart that’s hurting?” Zayne repeats, his voice calm but laced with something knowing.

“No! Of course… ngh… not,” you insist, struggling to keep your composure.

“Hm…” Zayne hums, his voice dropping as if the realization has hit. “Take care of yourself. Doctor’s orders.”

“I will. You too… and… haaa… doctors shouldn’t be skipping meals…” you add quickly, finishing in a rush.

Caleb pulls the phone from your ear, grinning like a cat who’s cornered his prey. “Yeah, the busiest man should at least join us for dinner every once in a while,” he says, his tone laced with taunting competitiveness.

“Hang up!” you insist, your voice tinged with panic.

Caleb smirks, clearly enjoying your reaction, but he obliges, ending the call. He pulls off your blindfold, his mischievous gaze locks onto yours, his dominance and jealousy radiating all around you.

You pull Caleb closer, your legs instinctively wrapping tighter around his waist as his hips snap forward, sending waves of pleasure through you. Your hands push his glasses up, and you kiss him—a gentle initiation that Caleb quickly turns hungry. His lips capture yours, biting softly at your lower lip, his kisses messy and demanding, speaking a language of unspoken need. Your arms wrap around his neck, nails digging into his back as your laughter mingles with soft moans, the sound a harmony of shared desire.

“Let me see,” you sigh, pulling away just enough to speak.

Caleb tilts his body slightly, granting you a glimpse of him sinking into you, his movements hypnotic. The sight drives you to arch your back, pressing your body further into his, making him reach deeper. You gasp, throwing your head back before kissing him again, your lips clinging to his as though he’s the air you need to breathe.

“Mine,” Caleb murmurs between kisses, your name falling from his lips like a vow. The rawness in his voice sends a shiver down your spine.

His rhythm grows relentless, each thrust drawing you closer to your peak. The pressure of his evol pins you firmly against the couch, intensifying every sensation.

“Caleb…” you whimper, your voice breaking, “I’m gonna come…”

“Hold on,” he growls, his voice strained and desperate, as though battling his limits.

“I… I can’t.”

The confession tears through the haze of pleasure, but it only drives him faster, his movements erratic and unrestrained. Your body tightens around him, and his voice grows hoarse as he whispers your name like a prayer.

The tension snaps, pleasure rushing through you in waves, your cries mingling with Caleb’s as he follows. The room shakes under the force of his evol—objects crashing and scattering as the world seems to respond to his intensity.

Breathless, you both collapse into the quiet aftermath, the weight of gravity settling once more.

“Fuck…” you both exhale in unison, voices harmonizing as you lie tangled together, your heartbeats racing in sync.

Caleb’s glasses slip off his face, landing carelessly beside you as he collapses onto your body, his weight pressing you into the couch. His breath is warm against your skin, uneven but soothing. With a gentle shift, he maneuvers you so that you’re lying on top of him, your head resting on his chest.

You listen to the steady rhythm beneath your ear, his heart racing but calm in its consistency. “Your heart’s going fast,” you murmur, a hint of amusement in your tone.

“That’s because of you,” he replies, his voice soft but filled with sincerity. He reaches for the dog tag nestled between you both, pulling it free as he tilts his head down to kiss the top of yours. “I want to be the only one whose heart you make beat like this,” he confesses, his words a vow and a plea all at once.

“You’re impossible,” you tease, your fingers idly tracing around his chest, circling his nipple in lazy patterns.

He catches your hand, his eyes falling to the blistered marks along your skin. His expression tightens with guilt as he lifts your hand to his lips, kissing each mark tenderly, as though his touch could erase them. “I’ve got to stop using this to bind you,” he whispers, his voice laced with regret.

“It’s fine,” you assure him, your breath finally steady. Sitting up, you straddle him, bending down to kiss him softly. His hands rise to cradle your face, his touch gentle, reverent. Your foreheads touch, the dominant air that usually surrounds him dissipating completely.

For a moment, it’s just you and him, hearts beating as one, and the world fades away.

You rest your forehead against his, your breaths mingling as the quiet settles between you. His hands stay on your face, thumbs brushing softly against your cheeks, as if grounding himself in your presence. “Stay like this,” he whispers, the words almost inaudible but weighted with meaning. You nod, your lips curving into a small smile, and close your eyes. In this moment, there’s no jealousy, no chaos—just the warmth of his embrace and the unspoken promise of always coming back to each other.

[ponderingmoonlight]

Slow kissing turning into aggressively making out with JJK men

Pairing: Gojo x fem!reader; Sukuna x fem!reader; Toji x fem!reader

Word Count: 3,5k

Warnings: no sexual content but it's getting heated y'all, not proofread because I wrote that in my break lol

Notes: no one asked for this but I delivered it anyway hehe

Gojo Satoru

It’s hard to keep your mind focused when it’s him who’s sitting next to you. Him, with the cheekiest mouth you’ve ever witnessed. Him, who always picks on you whenever he gets the chance. Him, who makes it all too clear for everyone around him that he’s the strongest.

Because that’s who Satoru Gojo is. Unlike you, an average jujutsu sorcerer who just happened to slide into the same year as him.

“Satoru, stop teasing her”, Suguru mumbles to his right, gazer flickering over your obvious uncomfortable face.

If there’s one thing you hate, it’s attention. Especially attention coming from someone who always bathes in the looks of others, who has no problem with standing in the spotlight constantly.

“I’m not teasing (y/n). I was just telling her that she looks great today. Is a man not allowed to voice his opinion around here?”, Satoru replies while pulling you in his arm and stroking your hair a little too harsh.

And despite the stinging fact that you are nothing compared against him, you can’t help but get excited when he enters the room, you can’t stop your heart from almost beating out of your chest when he touches you. Oh, it makes no sense that you fell for him. Especially you out of all girls around jujutsu high. How dumb to even dream of him liking you back someday when he’s surrounded by charismatic and jaw-dropping gorgeous women each and every day.

 “(y/n) doesn’t look comfortable at all, though”, Suguru comments dryly.

Your cheeks redden instantly when both their gazes hit you with full force, eyeing you up and down until you see stars. It really shouldn’t make you this nervous to be around both of them. Why is it so damn hard for you to be the center of attention for a brief second?

“Get going Suguru, I have a mission for you. What are you doing there with (y/n)? I told you over and over again to leave that poor girl alone, dumbass.”

May the ground swallow you whole. Why is your teacher suddenly appearing as well? And most importantly: If he takes Suguru with him, does that mean…?

“I-I…should get going as well!”, you stutter while jumping up so urgently that a wave of nausea hits you.

Maybe it’s nothing but coincidence but somehow, you managed to never be alone with Satoru in a room. He must be weirded out by you already, there is absolutely no reason to risk him getting freaked out by your strange behavior around others.

“Why in such a hurry, (y/n)? Only Suguru has to go on a mission. Both of us are free today”, Satoru purrs next to you.

When his hand grabs yours and pulls you back down into your seat, there is no chance to escape. You stare blankly at your feet, sweaty palms now digging into your thighs. Without Suguru, you’re on your own. No distraction, no possibility to escape his stinging gaze and attention.

You should be excited about finally getting some time alone with your crush. After all, you laid your eyes on him even before joining jujutsu high. Being the daughter of a wealthy and usual mighty jujutsu sorcerer family meant always staying in contact with the family who inherited the honored one. When you were little, you enjoyed Satoru’s company because he never asked too much questions about you and always seemed unbothered by the stinging fact that you are weak. And surprisingly, his interest in you never wavered until this day.

You, on the other hand…

“You look like you’re sharing the room with a special grade curse. It’s just me, your best friend, the one and only Gojo Satoru! Why so nervous, (y/n)?”

Since you started to develop feelings for him like the dumbass you are, everything changed. Just the sheer thought of sharing a room with him alone sends shivers down your spine, feeling his gaze sticking onto you forces you to get all nervous and to act like an idiot.

You really are one hopeless loser.

“Actually, I’ve been waiting quite some time to finally catch you alone again. It seems like you’re avoiding that like the plague.”

Because you do. Being alone with him means risking that you’ll act all weird and maybe freaking him out forever. Even though you’ll never be with him, you don’t want to lose the connection you have with Satoru. No, you’d rather love him from afar than risking it all.

“Really?”, you mumble while staring blanky at your sweaty hands.

“We’ve been friends for so long.”

He slides closer, forces your heart to skip a beat.

“Right.”

“But two or three years ago, you started avoiding me and I wondered why.”

You swallow hard, eyes widen in sheer horror. “Right.”

“Until I realized.”

Your eyes drift towards his, meet the bright blue ocean of his uncovered orbs. Did he find out? No way, you always made sure to never let anyone know, to keep your feelings to yourself. How would he even get the idea that-

“You love me, right?”

Time stands still, you don’t dare to move a single inch. He knows. Gojo Satoru knows. But how? When? You are physically unable to ask him any of those questions. Instead, you sit next to him like his prey in desperate hope that he’ll lose interest in you if you don’t move.

“You love me, right?”

His piercing look almost kills you from the inside. No, you can’t escape him. There is no way you’ll get out of this room without answering him.

“Right”, you whimper.

“Oh thank god.”

You don’t have any time to react. Before you even realize what happens, he pulls you in and kisses you. Slowly, tenderly, soft and sweet.

Satoru Gojo.

He…kisses you?

For a second, you forget how to exist. This has to be a dream you never dared to allow, so far away from reality that you’d shake your head over the sheer thought. But the way he wraps his arm around your waist and places his hand in your nape is oh too real.

No, this isn’t a dream. Satoru is kissing you at this very moment.

“I had my eyes on you for what feels like forever. But when you stopped meeting me alone and avoiding me, I thought that I might have done something to upset you until I realized that you actually feel the same way”, he mumbles against your lips.

You can’t answer. Instead, you allow your shaky hands to rest against his broad chest. Oh, he feels just as good as you secretly imagined, his intoxicating smell tingling in your nose and making your senses go crazy.

Your lips start moving cautiously against his. In your whole life, you were never kissed, there was never a boy besides Satoru who caught your interest. And now it’s him. It’s really him who moves in synch with you, who places soft kisses against your desperate lips.

So desperate. You grab the fabric of the uniform tighter, make sure that he doesn’t escape. When you get used to the feeling of this sensation, your mouth starts moving faster on its own. You close your eyes, give in to the feeling that starts growing louder and louder inside your burning chest. All those years, you refused to even think about him. All those years, you buried your feelings six feet under. But now everything comes back to the surface. Now it seems like the control over your mind and body slips out of your fingers in the most delicate way.

Out of instinct, you grab his neck and pull him even closer. Your mouths collapse with each other over and over again, so heated that you fail to breathe. You slide onto his lap, allow your tongue to intertwine with his. Oh, you never expected this to feel so good, you never knew you were capable of feeling such a sensation.

When Satoru whimpers inside your mouth, you threaten to lose yourself completely. His hands roam around your body without an aim while you hold onto his strong arms for dear life. Unforgivingly, without any mercy, your lips crash into each other until you see stars.

“Fuck”, he breathes out.

Satoru is the first who gives up and releases his puffy lips from yours. Panting heavy, both of you stare at each other. Did this really happen? Did you really make out with Gojo Satoru like that? You, out of all people? Sheer embarrassment rushes over you like a wave. Out of instinct, you try to cover your face with your hands, to escape his strong gaze.

“No, don’t you ever hide yourself from me. Not after what we’ve just done. You are…absolutely gorgeous”, he murmurs.

“And I think I need to do that again.”

Sukuna

Your skin burns in sheer sensation where his fingertips tease you, his lips moving against your mouth oh too sweet.

What a coincidence that you met Ryomen Sukuna here at Shibuya. What a coincidence you’re now sitting on top of him while his mouth roams around yours so innocently. Soft kisses with Sukuna are something you never imagined the king of curses to enjoy. No, you imagined him rough in every minor aspect of his life, especially when it comes to his lover. Well, apparently that isn’t true. Right now, his lips brush over yours as if you’re porcelain that’s about to break, as if you are the most precious thing to ever exist.

“I don’t have that much time for you”, he mumbles into your parted lips.

“Why not?”, you pout while outlining his strong arms with your fingers.

Oh so gently, he starts placing soft kisses onto your cheek, your forehead, your ear. So tenderly that it feels like a soft breeze of warm air caressing you, so utterly peaceful that you’d never believe that this is actually him.  

“I have something to do here. Who knows when I’m able to gain control over that brat again.”

His low voice vibrates through your whole body. Truth is, you missed your lover way too much to let go of him now. You haven’t seen each other for what feels like forever. Each and every night, you craved his touch, waited for the perfect opportunity to get him back. There is no way in hell you’ll let him go like that now after sharing only a few warm kisses.

You don’t give him an answer. Instead, you let your hips fall onto his provocatively, keeping his head in place while your tongue begins a play you know all too well.

Because even though the king of courses has an unexpected weak spot for slow and sweet kisses, you know exactly what drives him over the edge, what he needs to lose his mind to your mouth.

Your lips crash against his without any mercy, tongue teasing him so violently that a moan escapes the usual so composed man. A curse who never even thought about love and affection, a man destined to kill each and everyone who stands in his way.

Except you. Somehow you managed to light a fire inside him that cannot be put out without your help. Or better, your kisses.

“I missed you”, you purr between two passionate kisses.

“So so much.”

Automatically, he pulls you even closer, allows his muscular frame to collide with yours. Ryomen Sukuna melts like butter in your hands.

And you love it.

“What are you doing to me”, he mutters into your mouth.

“You want me to leave?”

You part your lips from his ever so slightly. One innocent movement, just the sheer thought of pulling away from him with an outcome you know so well.

In an instant, you feel Sukuna’s arms wrapped around you even tighter while his tongue teases you until you can’t breathe anymore.

“Who said you’re allowed to leave?”, he grumbles.

“Stay right here”, he hisses while shoving his tongue into your mouth again.

His hands grab your face when he suddenly starts slowing down his movements again.

“Please”, he adds along with a soft kiss on your forehead.

Toji Fushiguro

You are screwed. Completely fucked, lost, in big trouble.

And the man who’s responsible for all that mess is grinning right into your face.

To be honest, you heard rumors about him. A man who isn’t able to produce cursed energy, who is so unbelievably strong despite it. A bounty hunter who kills jujutsu sorcerers when it’s decently paid, nothing but a troublemaker.

And hot. God, just the way he smirks at you makes your knees go weak-

Focus, this is goddamn serious.

“Would you mind removing that blade from my friend?”, you question dryly.

Now is not the time to thirst over someone who just pierced through your comrade. Well, the honored one, to be exact.

“Why? He’s your boyfriend?”, the man bites back with his sensual low voice.

“Hell no”, you reply a little too quick and disgusted.

“But I still care about him enough to ask you this.”

The unknown force of a man tilts his head before pulling the blade out of Gojo.

“I don’t need your help, (y/n).”

“You sure about that? Let me take over.”

“You? Don’t be ridiculous.”

Gojo’s stupid comment makes your blood boil almost instantly. Who does this guy even think he is? Just because he was lucky enough to get born with immense powers doesn’t mean you aren’t a decent jujutsu sorcerer yourself. Apart from the stinging fact that you are a woman.

And you’re definitely able to feel the stranger’s eyes all over you.

“Are you hard of hearing? Get lost and make sure Riko arrives at Tengen-sama’s safe”, you hiss through gritted teeth.

“And missing all the fun and fighting? Hell no.”

“Being alone with ya actually doesn’t sound bad”, the stranger replies with a smirk.

“What the hell would you want from her?”

“Seems like your dumb blue eyes aren’t useful after all, brat.”

Oh, how much you try to stop yourself from grinning ear to ear like an idiot and your cheeks to blush.

“Was that a compliment?”

It doesn’t matter, though. You can’t fuck this mission up. Something about his appearance tells you more than urgently that if that man gets close to Riko…

You have to prevent this. No matter what it costs.

“Depends. Did it work?”, the stranger replies.

Fuck, you hate the way your heart almost beats out of your chest. Or…do you?

“Who knows”, you purr.

His eyes all over you, take in your appearance with so much force that you feel like fainting for a second. Is that man flirting with you?

“I’m the one you’re fighting against.”

“I’m not interested in a spoiled brat like you. Get lost.”

He makes it look so easy. Grabbing Gojo by the throat mid-air, slamming his body into multiple nearby buildings. All of this without a single spark of cursed energy. All of this only by the sheer force of his muscular arms. Fuck, those forearms…

“So, watcha say, princess? Are ya in for chilling together?”

You feel like dying and flying at the same time. That fucking man was able to send Gojo straight to heaven with one arm. There is no doubt in the fact that he’d be able to kill you without you even noticing a single thing.

You bite your lip when your eyes start wandering around his toned torso and tight black shirt. But isn’t it your mission to do everything possible in order to keep Riko save? Especially when it means getting physical with a man like him. His eyes tell you that you need to keep him entertained if you stick to your plan. What could a girl like you possibly offer a guy like him?

“Depends on your definition of chilling. I’m not staying here for nothing.”

This is a dangerous game. One wrong movement, one unwise word and you’re dead without even Gojo being able to protect you.

“First tell me what’s yours. Any hidden talents apart from that whole jujutsu stuff?”

He roams around you like a hunter around its prey, eyes getting darker and darker each time they meet your gaze. Oh, this question definitely points to places you’ve never been before, so dirty and rough that you never allowed your thoughts to travel there.

“Maybe we need to find out”, you hum.

Your voice doesn’t sound like yours anymore. Like in trance, you give the unknown man in front of you dirty looks. This is for the mission exclusively.

Right?

“I know you’re trying to distract me. But fuck that and have some fine before I kill that brat.”

You force yourself to breathe out slowly and controlled. Of course, he wouldn’t fall for that. Someone who’s here to kill the plasma vessel and managed to slice through Gojo like through butter isn’t someone to be messed with.

Like in slow motion, you watch as he draws closer. He builds himself up in front of you with his shadow hanging over you threatful.

But those lips. Those oh so kissable lips paired with that handsome face of his.

“Scared?”, he mutters while mocking down at you.

A deep breath in. A deep breath out. Before you’re able to convince yourself otherwise, you press your lips against his.

Almost instantly, he grabs you by the waist and pulls you closer. But apart from the rough kiss you expected, his lips caress yours in the softest way possible. Gently, he holds onto your face while embracing you in a way you’ve never felt before.

Fuck, why does this have to be so good? Why was everything you expected from that man a steamy make-out session?

Your knees threaten so fail you when every minor movement of his mouth sends shivers down your spine. This shouldn’t feel so good, you shouldn’t melt like butter in his rough hands.

But you can’t help it.

“You definitely taste good”, he mumbles into your parted lips.

Your cheeks heat up in an instant. If someone would have told you you’d end up making out with a hot stranger to stop him from killing Riko and Gojo today, you would have called them insane.

And yet, here you are. Getting showered in soft kisses and held in a way you’ve never felt before.

“Gimme more, princess.”

Slowly but surely, the urge to feel him even closer, better, faster becomes unbearable. You grab him by his hair and pull him down while your mouth picks up the pace on its own. This isn’t enough. You need to feel him better than this.

“Fuck.”

A moan escapes your lips before you can stop it, hands wandering around his body without an aim. Oh, your lips never swelled up like that, never burned in such a sensation before. Fuck slow-kissing, fuck holding yourself back. Why would you ditch that opportunity when it’s clear that he wants you as well?

The stranger’s arms wrapped themselves around you tightly, leave you no room to escape. Over and over, your lips collide with each other until you feel dizzy.

“Sorry for interrupting your little make out session, but are you out of your fucking mind, (y/n)?”

Fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck.

You know that voice all too well.

“Huh, should have killed you right on the spot”, the stranger remarks with his dark eyes still set on you.

“What a waste of time. Wait for me here, princess. I’ll be back when I killed that brat and the vessel.”

He lets go of you as sudden as he grabbed you, leaves your body aching for his touch and your mind racing back and forth.

“You can’t kill them!”, you shout after him.

“And I don’t even know your name.”

“The name’s Toji Fushiguro, princess.”

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