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moonchild9350 · 4 months ago

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Still Life and Nude Surprises

Summary: you need to prep for an art show and sign up for a class for extra practice. the model you’re assigned however turns out to be someone you know very well.

Pairing: best friend!Felix x fab!reader

Genre: friends to lovers au, fluff, smut-18+MDNI

Word Count: 4.8k

Warnings: nude modeling, mutual masturbation, dirty talk, mention of overstimulation, clit play, unprotected sex (don't), creampie, implied multiple rounds

Notes: another fic from when I was feral sorry not sorry lol this was fun to write though and it’s Felix so…. lol

If you enjoyed please consider a like, reblog, or comment as it keeps me motivated ♡

Divider by @cafekitsune

Please do not copy, translate, modify, use, or repost this work elsewhere without my permission. ©moonchild9350 (2024)

"Hold still!"

You chastised the blonde who was at the moment wiggling around in his seat, his eyes focused on his computer screen as he blasted god knows what on the latest game he acquired.

"Y/n! Lemme just finish this round, then I'll do anything you say," he responded as he showed off his biggest pouty face.

You sighed, not being able to say no to that face. Felix smiled and went back to his game, his fingers tap tapping on the keyboard.

Felix is your best friend, he has been since you were neighbors as a kid. You've done everything together, from attending dances as each others dates, sleepovers as kids, endure heartbreaks, and even live within the same building as adults.

You couldn't live without him, your relationship going beyond your wildest dreams.

Now, you were trying to sketch your best friend as you were trying to improve your still life skills, preparing for an art show that you had signed up for. Everything was going well until he received a text from a gamer buddy, wanting to go for a round on a new game he recently started.

You set your sketch pad down and watched your friend as he scrunched his face in concentration, his tongue sticking out the corner of his mouth as he shot down enemy after enemy. It was pretty humorous to watch, as everytime he missed his target he'd scream "noooo!" before concentrating once more.

You knew it was a lost cause, understanding once he started gaming, it would be hours until he would stop. You gathered up your stuff, packing it into your bag.

You got up and walked over to Felix, ruffling up his hair, obscuring his view of the computer screen.

"Y/n!" he exclaimed as he blew his hair out of his face, the strands framing his face haphazardly as a result.

"I'm gonna go home, it's getting late. I"ll see you later ok?"

Felix took a chance and looked away from the screen to you, "I'm sorry, I'm a horrible model."

You chuckled and slapped his arm, the boy yelping at the sting. "No you're not, you just get distracted easily."

You continued to laugh as you walked to his door, listening to Felix mutter under his breath something along the lines of "that's not true."

Closing his door, you walked the few doors down to your apartment, dropping your bag on the hallway table. You really did want to practice your skills as the show was getting closer day by day and you were banking on using Felix to start.

You grabbed your laptop and plopped on the couch, propping your feet on the table in front of you. Opening up the search engine, you began to look for classes that you could attend to help you practice.

You came across a particularly promising site, the company offering a variety of classes from group sessions to private ones. You clicked on the private session info bar, as the prospect of it just being you and the model seemed appealing.

You noticed they offered private nude modeling sessions as well, your eyebrow raising in interest. This would be the perfect opportunity to study the human body and to improve your skills on drawing it.

The company had a few sessions open over the next few days which would be perfect as you were free. You clicked on the time slot for tomorrow's private session, your mind running over the pros and cons.

You've never sketched anyone nude, the prospect seeming a little embarrassing to you, but how would you get better if you didn't step out of your comfort zone? Plus, these models were trained for this, and it was with a reputable company.

The cost of the class wasn't much either, definitely within your budget. You filled in your information, whatever they asked for. Once done, your hand hovered over the book button, as you considered what to do.

"Fuck it," you said, bringing your finger down to press book.

A confirmation page popped up saying your session was successfully booked and they'd see you tomorrow. You let out a breath and closed your laptop.

This was really going to happen. You wondered if you'd have a male or female model, noticing there was no option to choose. Shaking your head, you decided not to think about the session until the time came, opting to go in with a fresh and unbiased mind.

You went about the rest of your night, prepping everything you would need for tomorrow. Settling into bed you pulled the covers up to your chin.

You were ready for tomorrow and whatever it were to bring.

It was a beautiful day, the sun shining, the weather warm but not too hot. The walk to the art studio wasn't too far away, the building being within walking distance.

You were giddy with excitement, your anxieties gone about the details of the session. You texted Felix to let him know you would be occupied today and would be over later on. He didn't mind as he apparently had something to do as well.

You approached a chic building, the outer walls appearing old yet charming to fit the town. You opened the door and walked in, met with the scent only an art studio can provide, from the scents of paints to fresh canvases. The scent of coffee drifted in the air as well, as there was a fresh pot that seemed to have been brewed in the corner of the reception area.

You approached the front desk, greeting the worker behind it.

"Hi, my name is y/n, I'm booked for a private session at 10:30?"

The lady looked in a book on the desk, her manicured fingers running down the page to the appointed time. She tapped her fingers on the page, finding your name as expected.

"We have you all set, would you like to pay now?"

You nodded and pulled out your card. She took care of the payment and then smiled.

"Have a seat, someone will be with you shortly to take you to the studio."

"Thank you," you said, walking towards a comfy looking chair in the corner.

You sat down, cradling your bag to your side. The atmosphere was quiet, the occasional sound of chatter meeting your ears. You watched as people walked to and from, their focus on getting to their destination.

Not long after sitting down, a young woman appeared calling your name. You hurriedly grabbed your bag and walked towards her.

"Ready?" she asked with a smile.

"Absolutely," you responded as you followed the lady down the hall.

She stopped at a door, the placard reading studio eight. It was more secluded than the other studios, the room being near the back of the hall. The lady opened the door and stepped in, you following right behind her.

As you crossed the threshold, you took in the surroundings of the room. It wasn't too small but not too big. The walls were covered with sketches and paintings, portraying various body types. Each painting was beautiful, the artist capturing the details of the human body in intricate detail.

There was a ceiling to floor mirror along one wall, the whole room visible in its reflection. In the center of the room, there was a chair next to a series of boxes, linen draped over it to make a makeshift bed. You eyed the stool next to an easel, which you assumed is where you would be sitting.

"So, this is where your session will take place. You have this space for four hours. If you need assistance of any sort, just press this button here and one of the staff members will assist you."

You followed her hand as she pointed to a blue button next to the door. You nodded and faced the lady again, waiting for her to continue.

"You have opted for a nude model for your session correct?"

"Yes, I have," you replied, feeling your cheeks flush at her question.

"They will enter after I leave. If at any point you feel uncomfortable, you can ask them to robe again, they will not mind. I think that's all. Any questions?"

You shook your head no, as everything was pretty straight forward.

"Great! Go ahead and get settled, your model will be in shortly!"

You thanked the lady and walked over to the easel. Setting your bag down, you began to pull out your sketch book and various pencils, setting them up accordingly. You sat on the stool, crossing your legs as you waited for your model to arrive.

It didn't take long until a different door than you came in opened, a person stepping in within the room. It was a flurry of movement as they walked into the room with their head down.

"Sorry, I'm a little late," the person said in a deep voice.

Wait...you knew that voice. Shocked, your head snapped up to look more closely at the person. You couldn't believe it, that person was...

"Y/n?!"

"Felix?!"

Your model was Felix? Your best friend? What the fuck?!

You were confused and shocked. Felix seemed to be as well as he stared at you with his mouth wide open.

You eyed your friend who was prepped in a white robe, the material seeming soft and cozy on his skin. His long hair was in a ponytail, framed away from his face, his numerous freckles on display.

"What are you doing here?" you asked in disbelief.

"I could ask you the same thing," Felix responded as he came closer to you.

"I uh...I signed up for a class to work on my skills since you know..." you said, your voice trailing off at the end.

The atmosphere was tense, neither one of you knowing what to do. You never expected to see your best friend here, especially since he never mentioned he modeled for an art studio...nude at that.

Felix nodded at your response, "I work here as a side gig...make some extra cash you know?"

You nodded, accepting his answer.

"Why did you never tell me you did this?" you inquired, curiosity getting the best of you.

Felix fiddled with the strap of his robe, his gaze anywhere but yours. After a moment he cleared his throat.

"Well, I thought you'd find it weird. I mean I'm naked in front of people and they draw me in the nude. How would I bring that up with you?"

He had a point. That would definitely make for an interesting conversation. Now the question becomes do you go on with the session? Sketch your best friend nude? You could make him keep the robe on.

"Do you...do you still want to proceed with this?" Felix asked, his hands gesturing toward the makeshift bed in the center of the room.

"I'm ok if you are," you said shrugging.

Felix cleared his throat, surprised at your answer. Recovering quickly, he said, "Of course."

You nodded and watched as he padded toward the bed, stopping in front of it for a moment. His hands went to the strap of his robe, his fingers fiddling with the knot before he stopped.

"You ok with sketching me nude?"

"Yes Lix, I've seen you naked before."

You really have and with years of being best friends, it was bound to happen.

Felix nodded before he grasped the strap again, this time untying the knot.

You watched as the knot fell away, the straps now dangling at his side. He brought his hands up, to grab the soft material and slide it off his shoulders. With a flurry of movement, he let the robe fall, the fabric pooling at his feet.

You gasped, your eyes glued to your best friend as he stood in the center of the room, his back to you. Taking the chance, your eyes roamed his back, taking in his muscular frame, down to his lithe waist, which you've always admired. You smirked at seeing his ass wanting to reach out and smack it.

Felix took a deep breath and slowly turned around to face you. You watched with bated breath as he now stood facing you, his eyes on yours.

Your eyes drifted down his torso, eyeing his nipples, the pinkish-brown buds perky in the cold room. You eyed him further down, down, down until you came to his pelvis, a happy trail of hair leading down to his cock.

You subconsciously licked your lips, your eyes glued to his soft cock lying amongst a smattering of hair, his balls hanging nice and delicate. You couldn't help but admire his cock, wondering how it would feel in your hands, how it would feel...

"Earth to y/n! My eyes are up here pervert!" Felix exclaimed while snapping his fingers to get your attention.

You snapped your eyes up to his face, feeling your cheeks flush in embarrassment. You definitely were just checking out your best friend, the feeling in your panties a little more wet than when you came in.

You cleared your throat and gestured toward the bed, "Umm, wanna get started?"

Felix nodded, "How do you want me?"

"You can just lounge on the bed for now."

Felix nodded again and sat on the bed, swinging his legs up to rest on the linens. You walked over to your best friend and stopped in front of him, your hands reached out. You hesitated for a moment, looking into his eyes asking silent permission to touch him.

"Go ahead, position me how you want," Felix chuckled.

You took his hand in yours and draped it across his face, his fingers dangling delicately on the side of his cheeks. You angled his head to look toward where you would be sitting. You looked at his legs, taking a breath before propping one of his legs up.

Once finished, you quickly took a step back, eyeing your work. Satisfied, you sat down on your stool and grabbed your sketch book.

You picked up a pencil and began to sketch, easily getting lost in your work. You looked up at Felix every now and then, to get some details solidified in your head before you translated it onto paper.

It was silent in the room, neither one of you speaking. It was not as awkward as you thought it would be, but rather comforting.

Time passed and you got more of your sketch done, the outline being nearly complete.

Felix was staring at you, watching your hands dance across the page, sketching his frame. He couldn't take his eyes off of you, admiring how you got lost in your work, that not even your best friend posing naked for you can distract you.

He loved how you let out a small smile when you got a detail just right or how you scrunched up your face and bit your lip when something did not seem right.

You were beautiful, that he couldn't deny and you were even more beautiful in this moment, sitting on a stool in an art studio underneath the dim lights.

Felix started to feel warm, despite laying right under the air conditioner, the feeling spreading down his belly and settling at his cock. He could feel the blood slowly fill out his cock, the appendage slightly harder than before, laying haphazardly against his pelvis.

He willed himself to breath, to cool down, not wanting you to see the effect you have on him. He could never live that down. He tried to look everywhere but your face, especially when your head was down. But to no avail, the feeling increased, his cock twitching slightly in response.

You looked up at your friend to get another look at his torso for shading the area on your sketch, but froze at what you saw. Felix seemed to be in turmoil, his breath shaky, his eyes darting everywhere around the room.

Your eyes traveled to his cock, noticing how it seemed to have hardened some since you last took a look at him. You thought you would feel embarrassed, however, you felt quite the opposite.

You lingered on his cock a little longer, a a pleasurable shock traveling down your body and straight to your core. You pressed your thighs together in response, feeling your slick slowly seep into your panties.

You cleared your throat and went back to your sketch, not wanting Felix to catch you staring, not let him know that you were aware he was hard while you sketched him.

Felix was turned on, that was the brunt of it. He tried to stop his reaction to you, but he just couldn't do it. He felt his cock hardened until it stood fully at attention, the tip pressing up against his pelvis.

It was torture laying there, only a few feet away from you, his cock so hard it was starting to hurt. He wanted to touch himself, relieve the ache, and maybe just maybe you could help him out too.

He watched as you lifted your head up once more, gasping at the state of him.

You were in shock, noticing now that Felix's cock was fully hard, the member seeming angry and red at the lack of attention it received. You could see something shiny glistening on the hairs littering his pelvis. You watched as a drop of pre-cum oozed from his tip, the liquid dripping down his shaft until it reached the hairs, getting caught in the thickness.

Looking at Felix's face, you could tell he was miserable, as he breathing was shallow and he was clenching and unclenching his hands. You knew he wanted to touch himself to relieve himself of the ache he was feeling.

"Felix?" you questioned, your eyes reaching his. "Do you wanna touch yourself?"

Felix's eyes widened at the question, disbelief written on his face.

"I'm..I'm sorry y/n, I just couldn't help it," he stuttered, lowering his eyes in embarrassment.

"It's ok," you responded with a smile. "You can touch yourself, make yourself feel good. I'll continue to sketch."

Felix stared at you for a moment more before he took his other hand that was at his side and placed it on his chest.

You watched as he gripped his aching cock and gave it a squeeze as he moaned lowly. He shifted his hand upwards, his thumb pressing on his slit before gathering up some of the leaking pre-cum.

He began to stroke his cock, steady but slowly, his fist reaching the base just to travel back up and circle around the head. Felix kept eye contact with you, your sketching forgotten, as you took to watching your best friend pleasure himself.

He increased the speed of his wrist movement, wet sounds from the aid of his precum filling the room. With each moan he let out, you felt your pussy clench over nothing. You were soaking wet, your panties stuck to your skin by now, your clit throbbing to be touched.

"Y/n," Felix said, his voice raspy as he continued to stroke his cock. "Can you touch yourself? Pleasure yourself for me?"

You looked into Felix's pleading eyes, watching as he licked his lips and swallowed. You didn't give a moments thought at your friend's request, instead ridding yourself of your leggings.

You stood before Felix, your fingers going to the band of your panties. You watched Felix's eyes drag to the piece of cloth, his eyes widening at the wet patch present on your panties, the material sticking to your skin, leaving nothing to the imagination as the outline of your lips could be seen.

You slowly slid your panties down your legs and set them aside. Felix let out a groan at the sight of your pussy, his cock twitching in his hand.

You sat back down on the stool and spread your legs, your wet folds separating to show him your entrance. He kept his eyes glued to your pussy as you brought a finger to your clit, flicking the bud and the rubbing it gently.

You sighed out as you dipped a finger lower into your hole, gathering your slick that was pooling there before bringing it back to your clit. You circled it gently, applying the slightest pressure, a jolt of pleasure causing your pussy to clench.

Time passed as you both sat there, eyes on each other as you pleasured yourself, the room filled with wet sounds and the mix of both of your moans.

You matched Felix's pace as he stroked his cock, harder and faster, his hips bucking up into his hands. You let out a whimper as you felt the tightening within your belly, the coil tightening, filling your core with warmth.

"Felix, m'close," you moaned as your fingers slipped and slid around your clit, your pussy getting wetter by the minute.

"Yeah? Cum for me? Will you cum for me like a good girl?" Felix cooed. "I'm close too, fuck."

Your breathing increased as the coil expanded in your belly, the feeling getting larger and larger until you tipped over the edge, your walls spasming, clenching down rhythmically as you rode out your high.

You didn't stop rubbing your clit, watching as Felix let out a groan as he bucked his hips, spurts of cum landing on his belly creating a painting with its pearly white sheen.

You pulled your hand away, the feeling of overstimulation settling in. You looked at your best friend, both of you breathing hard as you came down from your highs.

You chuckled as you noticed Felix was pretty much in the same position you put him in, his resolve at staying true to his role admirable.

"You um...you can keep sketching if you'd like," Felix said, his voice soft with uncertainty.

"We literally just got off together and you want me to continue sketching?" you asked incredulously as you cocked your eyebrow.

Felix cleared his throat, his body slighly shifting on the makeshift bed causing his softened cock to jiggle.

"Well...yeah, you paid and all..."

You stared at your best friend in disbelief. You hated that he had a point, you did pay a pretty sum to be here today. But here you were, nude from the waist down, your nether region a mess. You sighed and picked up your pencil, moving your hand to start sketching again.

There was silence once more as you got into the zone, focusing on shading in your sketch. You began to hum to yourself, adjusting yourself sligthly on the stool.

Felix returned to staring at you, watching you get lost in your work. He tried not to remember that you were naked waist down, your pussy seconds away from being on display if you decided to open your legs.

The thought caused arousal to seep through his body once more. He cursed silently as he felt his cock twitch. Why does he have to be turned on by you? He's never had this reaction before for any other client.

Maybe it was because they were strangers, people he didn't know, while you were his best friend, his life line.

He couldn't help it as his thoughts wandered, wondering how you would feel wrapped around him. He wondered how you would sound as he pounded into you, making you feel better than any of your little flings ever could.

He peeked down to look at his lower half as he silently groaned noticing his cock was fully hardened, resting against his belly once more.

You looked up to gather reference and noticed Felix's cock was hard, more of his precum leaking out and onto his belly. You squeezed your thighs together at the sight as your tongue darted out and licked your lips.

"Fuck this," you said, tossing your sketch book to the side.

You stood up and walked towards Felix, lifting your shirt up and over your head in the process. You unclasped your bra and let it fall to the floor, your tits spilling out and on view for your friend.

Felix scrambled up quickly and grabbed you by the arm, pulling you toward him until you stood right in front of his face. He grasped your waist and smashed his lips to yours, letting out a moan as your lips moved with his.

Your hand reached down to grasp his cock, giving it a squeeze. Felix moaned against your lips, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips.

"Can I fuck you y/n?" Felix asked with hope in his eyes.

You've both come this far, why stop now you thought.

"Sure," you agreed as more arousal gushed out of your pussy and onto your thighs at the thought of his cock filling you up.

Felix helped maneuver you onto the makeshift bed as he hovered above you. He spread your legs and pushed them upwards, giving him a clear view of your wet pussy, your slick coating your folds and dripping down your ass.

He brought his thumb down to press against your swollen clit that was peeking through your folds. You let out a whine at the sensation, your pussy clenching around nothing.

"I've waited for this moment for a long time y/n," Felix said, his eyes lifting up to your face.

"Me too," you confessed, your heart swelling at the thought that you both have liked each other probably for years.

He really was your person, your everything, and you would love nothing more than to give yourself fully to him.

Felix smiled down at you before swiping his finger over your clit again, watching as you wiggled your hips at his touch.

"I'm gonna give you my cock now," he grunted, grasping the appendage at the base.

He rubbed his cock through your folds, collecting your slick before pressing against your entrance, his eyes glued to how his head disappeared within your hole.

You mewled as he withdrew his cock just to press into your entrance again as he fucked you with just the tip.

"Felix, please," you whimpered, holding your legs open even more.

"Want my cock hm?" Felix asked, his eyes on yours. He watched as your mouth hung open, soft moans falling out as he teased you, spreading your folds open with just his head.

He was faring no better as he felt a shutter run through him, every time he sunk his tip within your warmth.

"Fuck me," you commanded, your eyes snapping open and staring Felix down.

You reached for his cock, your hand wrapping around the shaft. You wiggled your hips attempting to take more of his cock, ignoring how Felix was laughing at you.

"Ok, ok, don't get your panties in a twist," Felix chuckled. "Oh wait, you lost those hours ago, so desperate for my cock y/n."

Without any other warning, he slammed his hips into yours with a groan, sinking his length within your walls until bottomed out.

"Fuck, so warm and tight," he grunted as he began to thrust his hips into yours, withdrawing his cock just until he was all the way out and pushing back in.

You pussy clenched around him, the feeling of his cock stretching you out causing waves of pleasure to settle in your pelvis.

Felix grasped your legs, pushing them further to your chest as he pummeled his hips to yours, his heavy balls slapping against your ass with each thrust. He couldn't believe how tight you were, how your walls molded around his cock perfectly, like you were made for him.

His moans mingled with yours, as you both chased your highs. Felix licked his fingers and brought them back down to your clit, the digits slipping and sliding along the nub, causing shocks of pleasure to wreck your frame.

"Shit, I'm close, gonna cum. Can I come inside?" Felix panted, his thrusts becoming more erratic.

"Please, need your cum!" you whimpered as your pussy contracted at the thought of his cum within you.

Felix slammed his hips into yours once more before stilling, ropes of his cum flooding your walls.

"That's it, take my cum," Felix cooed as he continued to finger your clit.

You let out a loud moan as you came, your arousal seeping out of your pussy, coating Felix's cock as he thrusted his hips into yours a few more times to help you ride out your high.

Felix peered down at you, his eyes searching yours as you panted, your hands running down your body. He slowly withdrew his softening cock, his eyes glued to how his cum leaked out of your pussy, a smile gracing his face.

He leaned down to press a kiss on your lips once more as he whispered "I love you."

You carded your fingers through his hair, eagerly returning the kiss.

"And I love you Felix," you cooed.

You both laid there a little longer, exchanging soft kisses, neither one of you in a rush to move.

After a while, Felix perked up, mischief in his eyes.

"Wanna keep sketching? You still have another hour."

You smirked at the suggestion, knowing exactly where it will lead, and that was definitely ok with you.

"Sure thing, let's go for another round," you teased with a grin.

Taglist: @jehhskz @jeonginsleftcheek @simpforleeknaur @armystay89 @palindrome969 @slut4hee @ivydoesit23 @amarecerasus @kaysungshine @fun-fanfics @baby-stay92 @velvetmoonlght

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mononijikayu · 4 months ago

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to you 2,000... or... 20,000 years from now… — ryomen sukuna.

As they stand to leave, his gaze drifts to one of his portraits—a work that captures a moment from another time, another life. In it, the King of Curses sits beside his beloved concubine, her expression full of light and laughter, radiant in a way that suggests an unbreakable bond. Ryomen Sukuna pauses, his hand still entwined with hers, and a rare, gentle smile crosses his face. Looking at the painting, he lets himself hope, just a little. Perhaps, even in a world he once saw as cold and unyielding, there are threads of something beautiful woven into his story. Perhaps, even for someone like him, there could be a happy ending, one he’d never dared to imagine. He leans down and whispers softly, almost as if confessing a secret. “I like to think they found each other again, you know? That somehow… this time, they got to be happy.”

GENRE: alternate universe - reincarnation;

WARNING/S: post canon, future timeline, fluff, possible romance, getting together, mild angst, reincarnation, conflicted feelings, hurt/comfort, dreams and nightmares, distress, grief, feelings, physical touch, character death, moving on, flashback, humor, no curse future au, pining, light-hearted, happy ending, depiction of the future, depiction of reincarnation, depiction of letting go, depiction of flashback, depiction of getting together, depiction of depiction of character death, depiction of distress, depiction of grief, mention of character death, mention of the past, mention of letting go, mention of grief, reincarnated! sukuna, reincarnated concubine! reader;

WORDS: 15k words.

NOTE: this concludes the final part of the main story of the other woman. i'm genuinely grateful for you love and attention towards my story. this was never supposed to be a series, it was supposed to be a one off fic. but because of your love for concubine reader, i was inspired to bring more to her life.

as i promised, this is a happy ending. well, the happy end that i think would suit the story. of course, this is not the end of concubine reader's story. there will be drabbles of sukuna and concubine reader's life that i never managed to put out.

if you have any suggestion or questions about the story, you can drop some words down in the inbox!!! i'm very happy when you ask questions about the story or have suggestions of what you wanna see next!!! please do so everyone!!!

i hope you look forward to them!!! thank you for reading, thank you for your support and love. i'll continue to write for you all!!! i love you <3

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if you want to, tip! <3

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HE DOESN’T KNOW HOW HE’LL GET THROUGH THIS. He’d never felt like this before. What do his other artist friends call it? Oh, that’s right. A slump. An artist’s slump. Yeah, that’s what it’s called. He’s never had that before.

But why should he? Ryomen Sukuna was a protege. He was a stellar artist with a golden hand, one who never stops. The one who works as though he’s running out of time. It’s him.

And yet, at that moment, he wasn’t.

Ryomen Sukuna had a problem.

He was stumped from hell and back.

And he doesn’t understand why.

A loud exhale releases from his mouth as he looks up at all the drying canvas in front of him in the various easels. They’re all beautiful, don’t get him wrong. But they’re all the same.

And that bothers Ryomen Sukuna as he purses his lips in a flat line. His own studio has become a homage to these paintings and sketches as of late. There was nothing else coming out of him. Nothing else was occupying his mind.

In the maze of half-finished canvases and dried paint of his studio, there were only those same eyes staring at him. He could feel it even now under the dim lighting casting long, wavering shadows across each and every tender gaze.

He couldn’t stand up anymore. He’s exhausted. He’s been up since god knows when. Everywhere there was paint. His hands are stained, his shirt splattered with colors that have long since dulled. It’s been weeks.

He doesn't know how to deal with this. How could he, when she finds him in every moment? How easy it was to be that way. He’s stopped keeping track of time, because time means nothing when all he can see, all he can paint, is her.

As of late, it was this that haunted him. It was the same as always. It was this woman with those kind eyes looking back at him. That same tender smile greeting him. That same beauty yearning towards him. Everything about the woman’s face consumes him. Everything that she is continues to follow him like a ghost, over and over.

He can’t even pinpoint when it started. It just started happening out of nowhere. At one point there were normal dreams and soon enough, there were something else.

And as time passed by, there was nothing else left but her. Her beautiful smiling face looking at him. Every single time, she never fails to be warm towards him. As though she could feel him, as though she could see him.

She’s become more than a fixation; she’s an infection, seeping into every corner of his mind, haunting the hours he’s awake as much as those precious few where he drifts into a broken sleep.

She first appeared in his dreams like a fleeting whisper, but her image has grown, intensifying with each passing night, filling his dreams with a crescendo of color and dread. And over and over, it was repeating.

Like a piano key stuck on the board, playing over and over that same repetitive note. And yet, it was still lovely. It was still tender. And then suddenly, it wasn’t. That was the worst part of it all, he thinks. He captures the beauty of her and then suddenly, it just disappears. It goes. Almost like smoke.

The dream is always the same every night. At first it was terrifying to him. He’d never seen anything like her before. He’d never seen what happened to her before, not to anyone. Not ever. But with her, it repeats.

That nightmare continues over and over again. And he hated it. He hated how he has memorized it. He has hated how it was all he could see over and over again. He hated how this was the fate that such a beautiful, kind woman had to meet.

That beautiful lady, she would stand there and smile at him. Often, she stands at the edge of a crumbling cliff, the ocean roiling and dark beneath her, waves crashing against jagged rocks far below.

She turns, her eyes fixed on him, lips curling into a smile that might be tender, might be mocking, it shifts each time, eluding any attempt to decipher it.

She extends a hand, beckoning, imploring him to come closer. His heart races, his feet propel him forward, but just as he reaches for her, she slips, and he’s left grasping at nothing but empty air.

Again and again, he tries to save her. Again and again, she falls.

The dream wakes him in a cold sweat, heart pounding, breath shallow. He stumbles to his studio, and without thinking, he begins to paint. Her face materializes with each stroke, her eyes holding secrets he can’t unlock.

Her smile flickering with a mystery that tightens his chest. He paints her until his fingers go numb, until his eyes blur from exhaustion. He paints her even when he’s on the verge of madness. And he hates it—hates her—but he’s powerless to stop.

The people around him have noticed the shift, though they don’t understand it. They speak of his new works with reverence, captivated by the haunting beauty of the unknown woman he’s made famous.

But they don’t see the toll she takes on him. They don’t see the shadow of sleeplessness etched into his face, the dark circles under his eyes, the wild desperation lurking just beneath his cool exterior.

Every time he tries to paint something else. Absolutely anything else, it does not work. Not anymore. He would feel his hands freeze, his mind goes blank, and all he can see is her smile.

She’s everywhere, a ghost in his waking hours, her gaze piercing through every wall he builds to keep her out. The thrill of creation is gone; all that remains is the raw compulsion to recreate her face, an act that feels more like exorcism than art.

Ryomen Sukuna slumps back into his chair, eyes trained on the painting before him, hands limp and smeared with shades of red and soft violet. Her face, the delicate arch of her brows, the smirk teasing at her lips. All of it stares back at him, alive, taunting.

It’s as though she’s watching him, laughing softly at his obsession, fully aware of the hold she has over him. The painted eyes seem to flicker, and in his exhaustion, Sukuna wonders if he’s the one painting her, or if she’s the one reaching through the canvas, carving her image into his mind with a precision that leaves him helpless.

“Damn it. This is so annoying.” he mutters, his voice echoing hollowly in the quiet room. He reaches for his brush, the movement automatic, but his hand falters, dropping it back onto the table as he releases a frustrated sigh.

The curse feels weak, a pitiful attempt to regain some control, but he knows it’s useless. She’s an endless riddle, one he’s compelled to solve yet doomed to never fully understand.

No matter how many times he paints her, he can’t capture her—not completely. The harder he tries, the more elusive she becomes, as though she’s slipping through his fingers, mocking his every attempt.

He sits there, shoulders slouched, the steady tick of the clock filling the empty space around him. Hours blur into each other, and yet he can’t bring himself to look away, his gaze locked on her face, that faint smile hinting at secrets she will never share.

And then, just as the clock strikes midnight, he hears it. That tender voice giving him grief. That warm voice turning him cold. That voice echoed that whisper, soft as a breeze, calling his name.

“My lord…..my lord Sukuna.”

He closes his eyes, the sound reverberating through him, familiar and yet so distant. She’s there, in his mind, like an echo carried across lifetimes, the warmth of her voice stirring something deep inside.

He knows it’s a dream, an illusion conjured by his own obsession, but he doesn’t care. For a brief moment, he lets himself lean into it, lets her voice wash over him like a balm.

“My lord, my beloved lord Sukuna…” Her voice is softer this time, coaxing, filled with a strange tenderness that he’s certain only exists in his imagination. He can almost feel her fingers trailing along his cheek, the faintest touch, leaving warmth in their wake.

“What do you want from me?” he murmurs, his voice a weary plea, barely audible, as if afraid to break the fragile spell she’s cast over him. “You’re there every night, haunting me, making me see you even when I close my eyes. But what do you want?”

In his mind, her laughter echoes, soft and familiar, as if she’s toying with him. “You know what I want, my lord Sukuna. You’ve always known.”

He clenches his fists, frustration simmering beneath his skin. “Then tell me, damn it. Tell me what I need to do to set you free.”

“Set me free?” she repeats, and there’s a hint of amusement in her voice, as if the very idea amuses her. “Oh, my lord Sukuna… it’s not me who needs freeing.”

His breath hitches, her words cutting through him like a blade. The realization settles over him like a heavy weight, and he knows, somewhere in the back of his mind, that she’s right.

She isn’t the one trapped here—he is. Bound by his own memories, his own regrets, unable to let go of the past that has woven her image into every part of him.

He opens his eyes, staring at the canvas again, her face seeming to shift. It was almost ever so easy for her to taunt him like that, to tease him. Everything about her gave him that feeling that overwhelms him. Feelings that he's never felt in his entire life.

He could feel her eyes glinting with a knowing look that sends a shiver down his spine. He reaches for the brush, hand trembling as he adds another stroke, trying to bring her into focus, to finally capture the essence of her that has haunted him. But no matter what he does, he can’t reach her, can’t grasp the fleeting vision that seems to dance just beyond his reach.

“I’ll keep painting you. I swear.” he whispers, his voice raw, laced with something close to desperation. “Every night, every dream, until you’re satisfied. Until you let me go.”

But he knows, even as the words leave his lips, that she won’t; she’ll never truly leave. She’ll linger there, a silent muse, a relentless force guiding his hand, embedding herself deeper with every brushstroke.

And he, trapped in this beautiful, maddening cycle, will keep painting her face, night after night, each canvas only revealing a fragment of her and yet never enough.

The clock ticks on, marking the hours that slip away in her wake, but he’s long since stopped noticing. She’s there, in every line, every shadow, every flicker of light on the canvas.

She’s his prison, his muse, his madness—and he knows, even as he tries to break free, that he wouldn’t have it any other way.

══════════════════

BY THIS POINT, HE WOULD HAVE BEEN FINISHED WITH HIS COLLECTION. Usually, Ryomen Sukuna finishes his pieces weeks ahead, leaving everyone else; especially Gojo Satoru—scrambling to catch up. Well, perhaps because he usually doesn’t work until he stops messing about.

Still, the rivalry is a running joke among their peers. Gojo Satoru would tease him endlessly, his voice loud and mocking. “The world might as well end if you didn’t finish first, Ryomen Sukuna. I’d have to check if hell froze over.”

Gojo Satoru would say with that infuriating grin, and Sukuna would just roll his scarlet eyes, barely dignifying it with a response. He didn’t need to—he’d simply outdo him, his work claiming the prime spot at the National Gallery, cycle after cycle. That’s just how it works for them.

But now, as the days tick by and his canvas remains trapped in this maddening loop, the weight of that old joke feels heavier. Maybe it would be better if the world did end, he muses grimly, his frustration boiling under the surface. Each day that he fails to paint anything else, fails to break free from this woman’s image—drains him.

Every line, every shadow, every detail is etched with painstaking care, and yet each piece feels incomplete. He lets out a heavy sigh, his eyes narrowing as he looks once more at the canvas, the same haunting face staring back.

Another artist would leave the piece for a day, perhaps even a week, and come back with fresh eyes. But not Sukuna. He’s stubborn, relentless. Yet this time, it feels as though he’s been bested, and that thought is infuriating.

A soft knock sounds at the studio door, but he doesn’t respond. The door creaks open, and he doesn’t need to look up to know who it is—he can practically feel Gojo Satoru’s grin from across the room. This was a rare visit from his rival and somewhat friend. But, he already regrets giving him his address.

“Not done yet?” Gojo drawls, strolling in with a lazy confidence, hands shoved into his pockets. “Well, this must be it—the end of the world. Should I start making apocalypse preparations?”

“Leave, Satoru.” Sukuna mutters, his voice a low growl. But Gojo just chuckles, unperturbed.

“Can’t. I live wayyyyyy tooo far. Besides, I came all this way to see the fall of the great Ryomen Sukuna. And boy, is it a sight.” Gojo steps closer, his gaze shifting to the canvas. “Her again, huh? Your mystery woman? I thought you were done with her!”

Sukuna’s jaw tightens. “Say another word, and you’ll be painting with your own blood.”

Gojo just laughs, crossing his arms as he leans back against the wall. “Fine, fine. But it’s… interesting, don’t you think? You, stuck on the same image, over and over. And all of this because of one woman.”

Sukuna can feel his patience fraying, each word from Gojo Satoru like sandpaper on a wound that refuses to heal. But Gojo doesn’t stop, his tone shifting from mocking to genuinely curious. It’s already giving him a headache.

“So, bestie……” he says, a glint in his bright blue eyes. “Who is she? A muse? Some long-lost love? Because whatever it is, you’re about to drive yourself mad over her.”

“She’s nothing.” Sukuna says sharply, but the words lack conviction. He doesn’t want to dive into it. Especially for Gojo Satoru. He’d only try to make it all a joke and laugh about it. “Just a woman. Just a damn face that refuses to disappear.”

Gojo Satoru couldn’t help but arch an eyebrow. “Nothing? Could’ve fooled me, seeing as she’s all you’ve painted for weeks. Either she’s ‘just a woman,’ or she’s haunting you.”

Sukuna clenches his fists, his voice dropping to a murmur. “I can’t… get her out of my head, no matter how many times I try. It’s like she’s taunting me. Every stroke feels like a chase, and I can’t catch her.”

For once, Gojo’s grin fades, a shadow of understanding passing over his face. “So that’s it, huh? You’ve finally found a challenge you can’t conquer. Even after all these years.”

Sukuna scowls, eyes narrowing. “It’s not a challenge. It’s… more than that.” His voice trails off as he glances at the painting, his expression a mixture of longing and frustration.

“Then stop,” Gojo says bluntly. “If she’s driving you insane, stop trying to capture her. Paint something else. Anything else. Get back to your work, to the craft that’s kept you sane all this time.”

But Sukuna only shakes his head, his gaze fixed on the canvas. “It’s not that simple, Satoru. I can’t stop. I need to understand… Why is she here? Why does she keep coming back to me?”

Gojo sighs, running a hand through his bright snow colored hair, clearly torn between amusement and pity. “Well, I can’t say I envy you. But maybe you should try looking beyond the canvas, for once.”

Sukuna scoffs, though a hint of doubt creeps into his expression. “You think there’s anything outside this room that could give me answers?”

Gojo shrugs. “Who knows? Sometimes the answers we need are the ones we’re not looking for. But if this is what’s keeping you chained…” he nods towards the door, his voice lowering, “then maybe it’s time to find out why.”

Ryomen Sukuna says nothing, his gaze flicking between Gojo and the woman’s face on the canvas. And as Gojo slips out the door with a knowing smile, Sukuna feels the weight of his words lingering, as if daring him to break free of the chains he’s crafted for himself.

Gojo Satoru stayed in his studio for a while; the entire time his head hurt. But he couldn’t help admitting that his frustration was put on hold and that he was grateful for it. Annoying as he was, it was better than suffering what he had been suffering with the woman that haunts him.

But when Gojo Satoru leaves, he finds himself unable to leave either. From the night before, he hadn’t really found himself to sleep. But if he was still being honest, he really doesn’t think he made any progress from the ones he had already made that he feels happy about.

Well, except perhaps three more additions to his deluded dreams of this woman. He couldn’t stop with that. That was not something he could enjoy. It didn’t look good. He didn’t think it was the best he had ever done. He looks at his canvas again and squints his eyes. It was as though he was hoping that he had painted something else. But he knew he hadn’t. There was no need to double check.

Okay, well, he should be more honest — it’s four now. This is the fourth one. The fourth one for a while and it’s only past lunch time the next day. Wait, is it really lunch time? He looked around again and saw his clock. His mouth agape in shock. It’s already been a whole day? It’s already the blue hour? What the actual fuck is going on?

He groans as he puts down his paintbrush and covers his face with his hands. A loud groan echoes against his skin, reflecting that bitterness he feels. He was going mad, he’s genuinely sure that he’s really going mad. This time for real. The world is ending and he’s going mad.

Once more, Ryomen Sukuna sits slumped in his studio chair, the dim, cold light from the nearby cityscape casting a pallor over his face. How can this be possible? He's rubbing his temples, staring at yet another drying and yet truly unfinished portrait of her when a familiar voice cuts through his brooding. Ryomen Sukuna turned his back and turned it back once more, just as quickly.

Fuck, its Uraume.

Shit, shit. Is it already that time?

He hasn’t messaged them for two days.

How the fuck is he going to survive—

“Sukuna–san, you have the exhibition in two weeks, you know that!” Uraume reminds him, waking over with their tone both gentle and insistent. They’re standing at the edge of the cluttered studio, arms crossed, their eyes flicking between Sukuna and the growing stack of canvases lining the walls. “Everyone’s expecting new work, Sukuna–san. You can’t just say you aren’t producing anything when this is—”

He cuts them off with a frustrated wave of his hand, as if trying to dismiss both them and the exhibition out of his mind. “I know, I know, Uraume–san. You already know that I know. Don’t you think I know? I just…… What’s the point of even going here? It’s not…it’s not finished—nothing is complete.”

“That’s not what you’re supposed to be telling me—”

“I know, I know.” His voice trails off, heavy with exhaustion. He looks at the half-finished canvas before him, her familiar eyes staring back, mocking him. “Look, I need time. Okay? Just a little more time to get over it. I promise. It will be done soon.”

Uraume steps carefully, sidestepping the mess of brushes, scattered paint, and half-finished canvases that litter the studio floor. Their usual calm is tinged with a hint of bewilderment, their brows furrowing as they glance over at Ryomen Sukuna, who sits slouched in his chair, staring blankly at the portrait before him.

This is the first time they’ve seen him like this—so unfocused, so… lost. It’s unnerving. For as long as they’ve known him, Sukuna was always in control, his power and his confidence absolute. Nothing stumped him; nothing could shake him from his single-minded determination.

And yet, here he is, surrounded by portraits of a woman they’ve never met, trapped in a spiral of obsession that they don’t understand.

“Get over what, exactly?” Uraume asks, a soft but firm edge to their voice, breaking the silence that has grown heavy in the room. “The exhibition is practically sold out already. You are the star of this show—you know that.”

They hesitate, crossing their arms as they study his profile. “If you let yourself slip now, you’re going to lose everything. They expect something… groundbreaking, something other than…”

Their voice trails off as they catch sight of another painting, and then another; all of them of her. Each one shows a different expression, a different tilt of her head, a different light in her eyes, but always the same haunting face. Uraume’s gaze lingers on the latest painting, her smirk, subtle yet all-consuming, as if she’s daring anyone who looks at her to understand.

They shake their heads slowly, exhaling in frustration. “This obsession of yours…” They struggle for the right words, their gaze hardening as they glance back at him. “I don’t understand it. Who is she? And why are you letting her control you like this?”

Sukuna looks up, his expression weary, but there’s a flicker of something dangerous in his eyes, a glint that only appears when he’s truly challenged. “You wouldn’t understand, Uraume–san.” he mutters, his voice low, almost as if he’s talking to himself. “No one would. Not unless you felt what she did to me.”

Uraume raises a brow, taken aback. This isn’t like him—this vulnerability, this almost painful honesty. They’ve seen Sukuna bring cities to their knees, watched him command fear and respect with the simplest look, but now? Now, he looks more like a man haunted than a man in control.

“Then tell me, Sukuna–san.” Uraume says, their voice softening slightly, more curious than before. “What is it about her? Why does she matter so much?”

He leans back, a bitter smile crossing his lips. “It’s like… no matter how many times I paint her, she’s always out of reach, Uraume–san.” he says, his eyes flicking to the painting in front of him, the smirk that never changes. “Every stroke, every color—it’s as if she’s taunting me, daring me to try again, knowing I’ll never capture her.”

There’s a pause, the weight of his words settling between them, thick and tangible. Uraume takes a step back, their expression wavering. They’re used to seeing Sukuna drive toward a goal with relentless force, breaking anything that stands in his way. But this? This is something else. Something they can’t touch.

“Is she worth all this?” Uraume asks, more gently than they intended. “Worth losing your edge, your control?” They gesture to the canvases around them. “If she’s haunting you this much, perhaps it’s time to let her go.”

A dark laugh escapes Sukuna, low and humorless. “Let her go?” he repeats, his gaze still fixed on the painting. “I’ve tried, Uraume–san. But she’s there, every time I close my eyes. And I can’t…” He stops himself, the words caught in his throat. “She won’t let me go.”

Uraume watches him, feeling a pang of something they can’t quite name—pity, perhaps, or fear for what this fixation could mean for him. They take a step forward, daring to place a hand on his shoulder.

“You’re stronger than this, Sukuna–san.” they say softly, but firmly. “Whatever hold she has over you, it doesn’t control you. You’re the one in charge here, remember?”

For a moment, Sukuna seems to consider their words, a flicker of clarity in his eyes. But then he glances back at the canvas, at her knowing smile, and his face hardens, as if he’s resigned to the fact that he’s already lost.

“I thought so too, Uraume–san.” he murmurs, barely loud enough for Uraume to hear. “But I’m beginning to wonder… maybe she’s the one painting me.”

Uraume watches him in silence, feeling the cold truth of his words settle between them. They realize, in that moment, that they may be witnessing the unraveling of the man they thought was unbreakable. And for the first time, they wonder if he can even escape from the shadows of his own creation.

Sukuna follows their gaze, feeling a surge of irritation and helplessness. “It’s not that simple, Uraume–san. God, it’s just….” he mutters, running a hand through his messy fuschia hair, which is starting to look as unruly as he feels.

“She’s—she’s everywhere to me. And maybe that’s why she’s always here. Every time I try to start something else, there she is. Like a bad dream I can’t wake up from.”

He glances at Uraume, searching their face for some flicker of understanding. “Don’t you get it? I need to work through this. You can’t just snap your fingers and make it go away. If I had magic, it would have been fine, but I just….”

“Then maybe make her part of it.” Uraume replies, unphased by his frustration. “People will want to see this obsession—whatever it is. But they won’t be satisfied with half-finished canvases of the same face over and over.”

He stands up abruptly, pacing, as if movement will shake off the weight pressing down on him. “It’s not an obsession,” he says, though the words sound hollow, even to him. “I just need… time. To figure this out. To move past her.”

Uraume watches him with a calm patience that only irritates him further. “You’ve had time, Sukuna-san. And every day, I’ve watched you do nothing but chase shadows.” They gesture to the rows of unfinished canvases, the dozens of faces that all share her haunting expression.

“Maybe you don’t need to get past her. Maybe you need to go deeper, to figure out what she’s trying to tell you.”

Sukuna clenches his jaw, feeling the heat rise in his chest. He hates that Uraume, of all people, might be right. But how could he go deeper when she’s already consuming him? They should know that this is not what he needs right now. He needs support about this trying situation. He needs kindness about this. He needs—

He turns his eyes slightly and soon enough, they land on the first portrait he’s drawn of her. It was rough around the edges, it was true. But he was trying really hard to capture what he had found in her. He thought he would never see her again. That first time, it was all too interesting. Because he thought he would never see her again. And her smile would have been everything even that one time.

That once would have been enough, it would have fulfilled him whole enough. That one portrait, that first one — it would have been enough for Ryomen Sukuna to feel like someone was always going to look at him kindly.

That someone would always look at him with such tender eyes. He purses his lips in a line. Here she was. Once again, staring into his soul. Frozen in time. Looking towards him as though he was the world. As though life can only be known through looking at him. He gulped.

“I’ll figure it out, don’t worry.” he says finally, forcing his voice to steady. “Just… let me handle it my way.”

Uraume sighs, a long, exasperated sound. “Fine. But remember, Sukuna–san, time waits for no one. Especially not for you.”

And with that, they turn, leaving him alone once more in his dimly lit prison, with nothing but her face and the ticking of the clock to keep him company. Ryomen Sukuna could not move anymore for a while. He couldn’t. Not when you were looking at him like that.

The echoes of the night pangs into the slumber of the bright starry sky, and the silence in Ryomen Sukuna’s studio is absolute, broken only by the occasional soft creak of his chair or the quiet scratch of his brush against the canvas. And he despises it. Usually, he would be happy about that. It helps him focus on his work.

Yet, he’s almost afraid to move or make more noise or appease the silence with his enjoyment. Ryomen Sukuna was afraid that if he does, he’ll break the spell that’s settled over him, the fragile connection that’s come alive between him and her.

This ghostly woman, this chasing woman who has rooted herself so deeply in his psyche. He knows she’s not real, and yet every inch of him feels as if she’s in the room with him, closer than a shadow, more vivid than any memory.

The woman on the canvas feels different this time. He’s pushed past the limits of his frustration and reached a depth of expression that feels raw, unnerving. Her face, no longer a series of lifeless shapes and colors, seems to breathe on the canvas.

Her smile is softer now, her eyes almost… knowing. But the knowing isn’t comforting; it unsettles him, strikes some primal nerve deep inside. He steps back, shaking his head as if to clear it, to dispel the irrational thought that she’s looking back at him with intent, with purpose.

But even standing back, even half-closing his eyes, he can’t unsee her. She seems more real than ever before, like he’s peeled away another layer, only to find her hiding deeper within. He feels his heart beat faster, a slow wave of dread creeping into his veins. How can a face he created himself feel so alive? So sentient?

He backs away from the canvas, his hands covered in paint, feeling a chill settle over him. He’s been pushing himself to exhaustion these past few weeks, painting her in every possible way, but this—this feels different, like he’s crossed an invisible line. For the first time, the compulsion to paint her is laced with fear.

Still, he can’t look away. Her presence fills the room, and he feels the weight of it like a physical force. His eyes roam over her face: the faint shadows around her eyes, the suggestion of pain hidden in the tilt of her lips, the look of sorrow mingling with defiance. Each detail tells a story he’s not sure he wants to know, yet he’s desperate to understand it.

Uraume’s words echo in his mind again: Maybe you don’t need to get past her. Maybe you need to go deeper, to figure out what she’s trying to tell you.

He shudders, the thought reverberating through him. What if this woman, this apparition, isn’t just an accident of his imagination? What if she’s here for a reason, some purpose he’s been too afraid to uncover?

He recalls the dreams—the cliff, the ocean raging below, the way she extends her hand to him with that haunting smile, beckoning him forward only to disappear again and again. It’s always the same. He can’t save her, but he can’t let her go.

He’s always believed that his art comes from somewhere deep within him, from emotions he doesn’t fully understand, from memories he can’t articulate. But this feels different to him. He had never dealt with this before.

It was almost as if it’s coming from outside of him, as though she’s reaching through the boundary of his mind, using his hands as a conduit. He lets out a shaky breath, clutching the paint-stained edge of his workbench. Is this woman, this image, an echo from his past? A ghost? Or something darker, something he’s unlocked without meaning to?

The thought stirs something in him, a strange, unexplainable pull to keep going, to lose himself in this process of bringing her fully to life. He walks back to the canvas, hand trembling as he picks up his brush once more.

This time, he paints her hand, reaching out, as if extending toward him. The fingers are delicate, almost ghostly, and he layers shadows beneath them, giving them depth, weight. He works until the details blur, until his vision is smeared with exhaustion.

He steps back again, chest tight. Her hand stretches toward him now, inviting him, her fingers just a breath away. The air in the room feels thick, electric, as if she’s drawing him closer, beckoning him to cross some unseen line. He reaches out instinctively, the tips of his fingers barely brushing the canvas.

In that instant, a shiver courses through him, the chill going bone-deep. He feels his hand pull back, but it’s as if something is holding it there, holding him in place. His heart races. He hears the ticking of the clock, each tick louder, more insistent. The woman on the canvas seems closer now, her eyes sharper, more alive, her expression shifting as though she’s on the edge of speaking.

He tears his hand away, stumbling backward, the sudden movement jarring him back to himself. His studio comes into focus, the familiar mess of paint and brushes scattered around, the quiet hum of the city outside. But she’s still there, her face on the canvas, watching him with that faint, knowing smile.

His heart still pounding, he grabs his coat and stumbles out of the studio, leaving her behind, feeling her gaze burning into his back even as he shuts the door. The air outside is cold, crisp, and he gulps it down, trying to shake off the feeling that he’s walked out of a nightmare he can’t wake from.

But even as he steps into the city streets, even as the lights and the noise surround him, he can still see her in his mind, as clearly as if she were standing beside him.

And he knows, with a strange certainty, that no matter how far he runs, she’ll be waiting for him, waiting in the studio, in his dreams, until he finally dares to confront whatever truth she holds.

══════════════════

HE REALLY CAN’T HELP IT. Ryomen Sukuna’s heart hammers in his chest, louder than the muffled hum of voices in the museum, louder than the memories raging through his mind. He stands frozen, his scarlet eyes locked onto her.

This was the woman from his dreams, the face he painted until his hands went numb, until his sanity frayed. The woman he has known is like the back of his hand. She’s here, in the flesh, not on a canvas or a hazy memory, but real, close enough to reach out and touch. And yet, at this moment, she feels farther away than ever.

The woman doesn’t notice him. Of course she wouldn’t have. Why would she? He doesn’t expect her to know what he’s feeling now. She’s oblivious to the storm her presence has unleashed in his chest, the way his pulse spikes as he watches her, every nerve in his body caught between reaching for her and running away.

She’s gazing intently at the displays, her head tilting thoughtfully as she studies each artifact, and with each subtle movement, she reminds him achingly of her—of the woman he’d known in that past life, his concubine, the one he’d lost so long ago. She has that same air of quiet intensity, that gentle focus, the same soft curiosity he remembers.

And then she steps closer to the display holding the hairpin. That hairpin—the one he’d given to his concubine as a symbol of the promise he couldn’t keep, the one she had treasured even on the darkest nights, when the weight of their hidden love had pressed heavy upon them both. The hairpin he’d clasped in her hair before she was taken from him.

The sight of it had been a punch to the gut even before he saw her. But now, watching this woman—a stranger, yet painfully familiar—reach out as though to touch the glass, Sukuna feels something crack open inside him, a wound he’d buried lifetimes ago tearing fresh and raw.

She lifts her hand, her fingers hovering near the glass, her eyes lingering on the hairpin with a look he recognizes—sadness, longing, nostalgia she can’t possibly understand.

Her face is calm, her expression serene, but he knows that look, knows that feeling. Does she feel it too? Does she feel the echo of something lost, something distant yet so deeply embedded in her soul?

His own hand trembles at his side. He wants to go to her, to pull her aside, to demand to know if she remembers, if somewhere in her heart she feels that same aching void he’s carried for centuries. But the reality sinks in, cold and unyielding: to her, he’s a stranger.

She has no idea who he is. She doesn’t remember their stolen moments under moonlight, their whispered vows, the quiet, forbidden love that had bound them tighter than any promise. She doesn’t remember his face, doesn’t know the agony he’s endured, living each lifetime haunted by her ghost, painting her face in the desperate hope it might bring her back.

And yet, the hairpin calls to her. He watches her, rooted to the spot, as she studies it with a reverence she can’t name, can’t explain, an inexplicable connection to something lost to time. He can almost see the weight of her past life hovering over her like a shadow she doesn’t even know is there.

Sukuna’s fingers twitch, aching to touch her, to break this unbearable silence and tell her everything: that he’s waited lifetimes for her, that he’s dreamed of her every night, that every stroke of his brush was a desperate attempt to remember her, to reach her, to feel even an echo of what they once had. But how could he explain that? How could he unload centuries of grief, of longing, on her shoulders, when she doesn’t even know his name?

She turns, moving slowly to the next display. But for a single heartbeat, her gaze drifts in his direction. Their eyes meet, and in that split second, the air thickens, everything around him falling away. Her eyes—those same eyes, dark and deep, full of questions and secrets—fix on him, and he feels the weight of their shared history settle like a heavy cloak over them both.

He watches as something flickers in her gaze, an almost imperceptible flash of recognition. She blinks, and it’s gone, but he clings to it, desperate. Did she feel it, even if only for a moment? Did she feel the weight of a life before, a life they shared, a love they lost?

But she turns away, her brows furrowing slightly, as if shaking off a strange thought, and the moment shatters, leaving him stranded in a sea of regret and unspoken words. She disappears around the corner, her silhouette swallowed by the shadows of the exhibit.

A bitter pang cuts through him, deeper than anything he’s felt in centuries. She’s here, alive, within his reach, and yet she’s still lost to him. He’s still haunted by the echo of her smile, the shadow of her memory, the woman he could never save.

Slowly, Ryomen Sukuna forces himself to step away, his gaze lingering on the hairpin. He clenches his fists, feeling the familiar sting of regret, of promises broken, of lives tangled and torn apart.

He’d thought he was prepared to face her, though he could handle the pain that would come with seeing her again. But the reality is raw and relentless, tearing open old wounds he thought were healed.

In that moment, he was the only one who knew the truth: he’ll always be trapped in this cycle, drawn to her only to watch her slip away. No matter how many times he finds her, she’ll always be just out of reach, a dream he can never wake from.

Ryomen Sukuna’s heart nearly stops when he feels a soft hand on his arm, drawing him back to the present. His present. In front of this woman, this woman who haunted him with everything and anything in him.

“Are you… okay?” the woman asks, her voice gentle, her eyes warm with concern.

He’s stunned, his breath catching as he looks down at her, the stranger with the face he’s known all too well, the stranger who feels like a ghost comes to life. But he forces himself to gather his thoughts, to act like this is a normal interaction with a stranger, even though every nerve in his body feels charged with recognition.

“Ah… yes, I’m….I’m good.” he finally says, his voice rough but steady. “I just find the gallery… interesting.” The words feel absurdly inadequate, but it’s the only thing he can manage.

A small smile breaks over her lips, and the sight of it sends a sharp pang through him. It’s so familiar, so achingly familiar, that he has to clench his fists to keep himself grounded. She glances around the exhibit, her expression softening with a hint of pride.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying it, stranger.” she says. “It was… hard to tell the story. To do it justice, I mean.” Her gaze returns to his, warm and inviting. “I’m a Mikoto, by the way. A descendant of Hiromi.”

He feels his heart stop at the name, and it takes him a beat to respond. “Ryomen… Ryomen Sukuna, that’s my name.” he says, his voice catching slightly as he introduces himself.

He could only watch as her eyes widened in surprise, and she studied him, the weight of recognition glinting faintly in her gaze, though she didn't seem to realize its true depth. She probably did not expect him to have that name, that exact name, also.

“A descendant of Hiromi, too?” she asks with a soft laugh, her expression open, friendly. When he doesn’t answer, she shakes her head with a lighthearted smile. “It’s okay. The family’s too big for everyone to know where they come from anyway.”

He nods stiffly, a bit overwhelmed, struggling to keep his composure as memories flicker before him. There’s so much he wants to say, so much he aches to tell her, but he swallows it all down, letting the silence sit between them, as heavy as it is fragile.

Then, gathering his nerve, he glances at her. “Can I… can I ask you something about the exhibit? About Ryomen Sukuna?”

She tilts her head, curious. “Of course, you can.” she says. “But fair warning—it’s going to be a long story. A sad story.”

He meets her gaze, and in that moment, he sees a flicker of recognition in her eyes, something deep and familiar that calls to him. He nods. “That’s okay.” he says softly. “I think I need to hear it.”

She studies him a moment, as if trying to understand his need to know. Judging from her own reaction, it's a difficult story to even try and tell. But he was curious. Perhaps for the first time in his life, he wanted to know so badly.

He wanted to know more than anything how these two people lived. How she lived, that woman in his dreams — the woman right in front of him. He looks at her tenderly, curiously. And she nods, a quiet understanding in her expression.

“Ryomen Sukuna… and his concubine. Their stories are really not easy. Nor is her own. His concubine’s story is difficult. She led a long, sad life. They were together for a long time, longer than Sukuna and Hiromi were wed.” Her eyes lowered, the sight gleaming with sorrow as she touched the glass, trying to reach for the hairpin.

“She was devoted to him, in all the ways that one could describe devotion. And yet….she suffered under him… Quite a lot, if we’re to be honest. She gave him a son and she lost him and his indifference at times, it broke her.” She hesitates, glancing at him before continuing. “Though in his own way, he loved her. But well, was it enough? We cannot truly tell. From what we know from Ryomen Chiharu, she died without knowing. But perhaps, those are claims.”

The words pierce him like a knife. Hearing it from her lips, from her gentle voice, makes it all feel too real. The bitterness, the heartbreak, the weight of it all surges within him, yet he can’t look away from her. Is that what she has had to live through all that time? Was it only the heartbreak she had lived through? In that past life, in her past life — was it just grief born out of more, one after the other? Is that why she kept falling to her death? Suffering in all that pain?

“If he had loved her then….” Sukuna could feel some sense of anger bubble through him. “Why is it not ever clear, his feelings? If you love someone, you….you tell them! You make them know when they’re alive. Not when they’re gone! What kind of man is he? Is he even a man at that point? That’s cruel….That’s…..”

In that moment, her eyes turned wide as she gazed at him. She had seen people get angry on behalf of the long suffering concubine of the King of Curses. That was normal, to feel anguish on her behalf. And yet, this mayhaps is the first time he’s ever seen someone so infuriated. And aggrieved. And bitter. Truly, in the sense of the word. Her heart felt warm about that.

She smiles softly at him and places her hand on his own. “You know….he still did care. Even if he was a terrible man. In some ways.”

“Even then—”

“Come with me, stranger!” she says, her voice soft as she takes his hand, her touch sending an electric shock through him. She leads him to a long table draped in dark fabric, a single scroll lying open at the center. It was a magnificent piece of work.

In the middle was her, that concubine. With her elegant features and her bright eyed gaze, her tender smile that could bring life to a mundane world. The colors illuminated her with such ethereality that one couldn’t even understand. It would have taken much too much time to do this in their lifetime, during the Heian Era.

And yet, it was so carefully made, carefully thought of. So full of devotion to her, details that one couldn’t even find in any other portraiture in that time. Sukuna could only watch as her fingers glide along its edge with a reverence that pulls him in, as though she’s sharing a secret between them. Her smile grows wider.

“This is painted and written by Sukuna himself, mayhaps, a few years before she passed.” she whispers, her eyes shining as she looks at him. “We don’t know, if he had painted and made this in secret. Or if she had known and seen it. But….it was to her… a message. From him to her.”

The scroll is faded, ink blurred by age but unmistakable. And as Sukuna reads it, he feels his breath leave him, his pulse racing as he takes in the words he never thought he’d see again. In ancient script, barely visible, are the words he remembers writing so many lifetimes ago, a promise that felt foolish and desperate even as he wrote it:

“To you, my little one, from a thousand years to another twenty thousand years from now, you who will continue to be dear to me.”

His vision blurs, and he forces himself to swallow down the ache rising in his chest. How is that man ever so contradictory? How could he cause her hurt and then do…do something like this? How can one ever make amends, or show love, knowing they had caused grief and pain and suffering?

He purses his lips, his face echoing in conflict. He could feel his hand tighten in a fist. The woman he saw in his dreams, and the woman he sees before him now. How they both suffered to get to this point.

That smile a thousand years ago, so gentle and yet….so pained. And now, so beautiful and serene, happy. Truly so happy. He couldn’t help but be so overwhelmed by emotion. By all of this. She looks up at him, her face soft with empathy and warmth, her hand still resting lightly on his arm.

“What kind of person do you think could write something like that?” she asks gently, studying his reaction.

He swallows, searching for the right words, his voice barely a whisper. “Someone who knew… he’d never find peace without her.” he says, almost to himself, his gaze lingering on the scroll. “Someone… who wanted more time.”

Her eyes meet his, something unspoken passing between them, a quiet understanding that hangs thick in the air. She doesn’t say anything, but her expression shifts, her gaze softening, as if she’s sensing something she can’t quite place, something from another life pressing against the present.

In that moment, he knows he can’t tell her, can’t burden her with the weight of it all. This life may not hold the memory, the pain, the love he’d lost, but here she stands, still at his side. The universe, fate, something unknown has brought them here, and for now, in this fragile moment, it’s enough.

Sukuna’s mind swirls, each beat of his heart drumming louder against the silence that now surrounds them. The faint traces of this man’s ancient words—his promise, his plea—are scrawled on the scroll, untouched by time.

The weight of it feels unbearable, as if this fragile piece of paper holds not just a message from the past but the entirety of his soul. He risks a glance at her, the woman with his concubine’s face, her warmth, her spirit.

She’s watching him with an intensity that pulls him back from his reverie. “I wonder if he ever found her, if he was ever reborn and given new life.” she murmurs, more to herself than to him. “If… across all that time, they somehow managed to find each other again. And are more truthful to each other. I always thought that, even when I was a child. I hoped and prayed that they found happiness together in a new life.”

Her words send a chill down his spine. He wants to tell her they did, that he’s standing here, right now, because of her. But he knows he can’t—no matter how much his heart aches to reach out, to let her in on the truth he’s carried alone for so long. The curse of knowing, of remembering, is his burden alone.

Instead, he lets his fingers drift across the edge of the scroll, keeping his gaze lowered. “Maybe he never stopped searching. Even if he is reborn. Maybe if he doesn’t remember it all. He should find her and make amends.” he says softly. “Maybe that’s why his name and his memory linger even now. So that she’ll notice. And…maybe they’ll live the way you want them to.”

She tilts her head, considering him, her smile touched with the slightest hint of sadness. “That’s a beautiful thought. Almost… almost as if he’s still out there, waiting. Even if he had to endure every lifetime alone.”

Sukuna swallows, struggling to keep his composure. “Sometimes, we don’t have a choice, about it all.” he says, his voice low. “We’re bound by memories we can’t remember, by the promises our futures will have to remake, even if we have to carry them alone.”

She studies him for a moment, her expression thoughtful, as if she’s trying to glimpse the truth beneath his words. “That sounds like something he would have said, perhaps….perhaps to her.” she murmurs, almost to herself.

The weight of her gaze feels like a hand pressing against his heart, pulling him toward her, tethering him in a way that feels more ancient than memory. But she turns her attention back to the scroll, breaking the spell, and a soft smile touches her lips as she reads the words he once wrote.

“You know,” she says after a pause, “my family used to tell stories about Sukuna. He’s more of a legend now than a real person, but there are so many conflicting tales. Some say he was ruthless, others say he was capable of great kindness. I’ve always been fascinated by that contradiction.” She glances up at him, eyes alight with curiosity. “What do you think? Was he a monster… or was he something more?”

Sukuna’s breath catches at the question, the answer sitting like a stone in his throat. How can he possibly explain that the truth was more complicated than either legend or history could capture? That he was both and neither, a man torn by his own humanity and haunted by a love he couldn’t protect?

“It’s hard to say what he was.” he answers carefully. “Maybe he was both. A monster to some, but to others… he was someone who gave everything he had. No one is….no one is truly a villain, after all.”

She nods slowly, seemingly satisfied with his answer. “I like that answer.” she says quietly. “I think we all have pieces of light and shadow inside us. Maybe he was just… someone trying to find a balance, even if he had caused so much hurt. Even if he had failed.”

The irony cuts deep, the tragic poetry of her words like salt in an old wound. Her voice is gentle, but there’s a conviction in her tone that makes his chest tighten. If she knew the truth—if she knew what he’d lost, the sacrifices he’d made—would she still look at him this way, with this soft reverence and understanding?

Lost in thought, he hardly notices her reaching for his hand. Her fingers wrap around his, warm and grounding, and he’s stunned by the simple, natural ease of her touch, as though they’ve done this a thousand times before. Her hand fits perfectly in his, and for the first time in centuries, a glimmer of hope stirs within him.

“Come with me again, stranger.” she says, leading him past the scroll and into a smaller room at the end of the hall. “There’s something else I want you to see.”

They walk in silence, and he lets her guide him, his heart racing, wondering if perhaps, just maybe, she’s starting to feel the pull too—the invisible thread binding them across lifetimes. She stops in front of a display case holding a small, intricately carved pendant, its silver chain gleaming under the soft lights.

“This pendant, it was passed down to Ryomen Chiharu, after a few years.” she says, gazing at it with a fondness that surprises him. “It belonged to her. His concubine. One of the only things she kept close to her heart.”

Sukuna stares at it, his mind reeling. The pendant was once his gift to her, that King of Curses—a token, a promise of protection. Seeing it now, preserved and cared for, feels surreal, a whisper of the life they once shared. He doesn’t trust himself to speak, his voice thick with emotion he’s barely keeping in check.

He wondered, maybe if it was the right time, the right place. If he hadn’t been so enthralled with another — maybe it would have been a match that would have ended with less pain and more joy. Perhaps if the King of Curses had found himself able to move forward, he would have been happier. Maybe his concubine would have been happier.

But that was a thousand years ago. And humanity keeps making that same mistake. Little by little, you could find people repeating it over and over again. That makes Sukuna so bitter and sad, grievous and angry all at once. How could fate be so twisted? How could fate seem so indifferent to it all? How could…how could fate not stop such suffering of people who wish to be happy?

“I always thought it was sad, you know?” she continued, her tone soft. “She must have known he’d never be hers completely. But she still kept this close to her heart. Thinking of him. It’s like she never stopped hoping.”

Sukuna’s throat tightens, the weight of her words pressing into the raw ache within him. “Hope….hope is fragile.” he echoes, his voice hollow. “It can be a painful thing to carry, especially when there’s no chance of seeing it fulfilled.”

Her gaze turns up to him, searching, as though she can sense the depth of his grief but can’t name its source. “Maybe.” she says, her voice a whisper. “But sometimes… hope is all we have.”

He looks away, afraid she’ll see the truth in his eyes. He wonders if she understands, if somewhere deep down, a part of her remembers. But even if she doesn’t, he can feel her empathy, her gentle warmth reaching out to him, soothing his restless spirit.

She squeezes his hand, her touch gentle and grounding. “Thank you,” she says, smiling softly. “For listening to her story with me. I know it’s heavy, but… it’s part of our legacy, isn’t it?”

He nods, his heart raw and open, feeling the weight of the centuries fall away, even if just for this fleeting moment. It’s not enough—not enough to heal the wounds, to bring back what they’d lost—but for the first time, he feels something close to peace.

And in that silence, in her quiet smile, he dares to hope that maybe, just maybe, there will be a way to find and know each other again. She was right there. He likes to think she is. Right in front of him. There was hope, somehow.

That she would be happy. That maybe, just maybe – he could see her smile so beautifully again. A smile that would reach all the way to her eyes and warm her face and towards the reach of all the heavens.

Sukuna stands there, his fingers still brushing the edge of the glass case, the pendant gleaming faintly beneath his touch. He feels an unfamiliar warmth stirring within him, a strange, hesitant urge for something… more, something real and tangible. He looks down at her, her expression still soft with that quiet empathy that unsettles him as much as it comforts him.

Before he can second-guess himself, he clears his throat, casting a sidelong glance her way. “Would you, uh… would you like to grab a coffee sometime?” he asks, a bit gruffly, as if trying to sound casual. “Maybe you could help me with some ideas for my art. I’m….an artist by the way. ”

The question hangs in the air between them, and for a moment, he feels exposed in a way he hasn’t in centuries, like he’s offering a piece of himself he’s long since hidden. He braces himself for rejection, for her to smile politely and turn him down.

Sukuna watches her smile, a genuine, radiant expression that spreads across her face like dawn breaking over a darkened sky. It’s infectious, igniting something deep within him, as though it was a feeling that has lain dormant for centuries beneath layers of pain and regret.

Everything in him felt warm inside. Everything in him grasped to life, hoping that she could nourish it to last forever. Her acceptance feels like a lifeline thrown into the stormy sea of his existence, and he clings to it with a desperation he can’t quite articulate.

“Tomorrow sounds perfect, stranger.” she says, her voice a gentle balm against the jagged edges of his heart. “Oh, I should stop calling you that, shouldn’t I? My apologies, Sukuna–san. I wanted to tease you for a little more time.”

As she writes her number on a slip of paper, the world around them fades into a blur. The museum, the exhibits, the weight of history—all of it dissolves until it’s just the two of them, suspended in this fragile moment of connection.

He takes the paper from her, fingers brushing against hers for the briefest second. It sends an unexpected spark through him, and he’s momentarily lost in the warmth of her skin, the softness of her touch. He forces himself to pull away, catching her gaze again, wanting to savor the moment a little longer.

“What do you like to drink?” he asks, trying to keep the conversation going, to stretch this fleeting connection into something more tangible.

“Coffee, mostly. I love a good espresso.” she replies, her eyes shining with enthusiasm. “But I’m always open to trying new things. I’m sure the cafe will have new wonders. How about you?”

He nods, remembering the countless cups of coffee he’d consumed over the years, each one a bitter reminder of the countless sleepless nights spent alone. “I’m more of a dark roast person myself. Stronger the better.”

“Then I’ll make sure to introduce you to the best place in town. They have the most incredible brews, fit for a long suffering artist.” she says with a playful grin, and for the first time, he can’t help but smile back. It’s a small, simple thing, but it feels monumental, like a bridge forming over a chasm he thought would always divide him.

“Great….I uh….” he replies, his voice a little steadier. “I look forward to it.”

They linger for a moment, both seeming to hesitate, caught in a bubble of anticipation and something deeper that he can’t quite name. He’s never been one for lighthearted interactions, especially when it comes to connections. Yet here he is, standing before a woman who feels like a piece of his lost history, someone he feels inexplicably drawn to.

With one last lingering look, she steps back, her smile still warming the air between them. “See you soon, then, Sukuna–san.” she says, her voice light yet meaningful.

“Yeah….. I’ll see you soon.” he echoes, his heart pounding in his chest as he watches her walk away, the soft sway of her figure leaving him breathless.

As he turns to leave the gallery, the weight of the memories of a thousand years presses less heavily on him. He had left behind Sukuna's world, and birthed a new. He hopes he can. He wants to. He wants to make that woman happy. She deserves to. She deserves to be happy, in the way he couldn’t do it. He promises himself that.

For the first time, he feels a flicker of inspiration reigniting in his chest, like a spark that’s been waiting for just the right moment to burst into flame. The idea of coffee, of sharing thoughts and laughter, of discussing art with someone who understands the nuances of his legacy—it excites him in a way he hadn’t felt in what seems like an eternity. It excites him to burn with joy.

The streets outside are bathed in the warm glow of the setting sun, the colors alive and vibrant, reminding him of the canvases he has yet to fill. He can almost picture it now, a new piece forming in his mind—a swirling mix of shadows and light, of loss and hope, reflecting everything that has led him to this moment.

In the days and nights that follow, he begins to sketch again. The woman’s face, a beautiful blend of familiarity and freshness, dominates the canvas, layered with strokes of longing and the bittersweet pang of memory. He paints her laughter, the way her eyes sparkled with enthusiasm, and the gentle warmth that radiated from her smile.

Every brushstroke feels like a conversation, a way to weave their stories together—a blend of art, history, and the unspoken connection that binds them. The artist’s block that had once felt insurmountable begins to crumble, each session at the easel pulling him deeper into his thoughts and feelings, and farther from the suffocating grasp of despair.

He dreams of their meeting, the way her presence felt like coming home, and as their coffee date approaches, he finds himself wrapped in a mix of excitement and nerves. What would they talk about? What would she think of his art?

That evening, as he stands in front of the mirror, he catches a glimpse of himself—disheveled fuschia colored hair, weary bright scarlet eyes; but beneath it all, there’s a glimmer of something he hasn’t seen in ages: hope. A hope for the future. A hope for a new world, a new life. One that will echo years and years from now about joy.

Tomorrow, he tells himself as he brushes down his shirt, it will be different.

Tomorrow, he’ll make her the happiest person in the world.

Tomorrow, he’ll hope that she will never have any more days to frown.

When the sun rises, he feels it all too well. There was a flutter of anticipation in his chest as he prepared to meet her. Each step feels lighter, each moment filled with possibility. The thought of sharing coffee and stories—his past entwined with hers—ignites a spark of creativity he hadn’t realized he’d been missing.

As he enters the café, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee envelops him, and he scans the room, searching for her familiar face. When he spots her, seated at a cozy corner table, her hair cascading softly around her shoulders, he feels a rush of warmth.

Her smile brightens the space around them, and as their eyes meet, he knows he’s ready to embrace whatever this connection holds. It’s a chance to delve deeper into their stories, to explore the tangled threads of fate that brought them together.

“Hey!” she says, her voice lighting up the air between them as he approaches. “I’m so glad you made it.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” he replies, the weight of the past lifting as he takes a seat across from her. “So, what’s first on the menu?”

As you sit together, enveloped in the warmth of shared memories and laughter, Sukuna leans forward, his gaze both intense and gentle. The edges of his usually guarded expression soften, and the small lines near his eyes deepen with a smile that’s almost boyish.

“You know," Sukuna says, his voice low and thoughtful, “I have to say this to you… but… I never thought I’d find someone who could understand me like this. The things I’ve seen—it’s hard to explain to people who haven’t lived through the same nightmares."

He glances down at his coffee, a faint smirk on his lips. “But with you, it doesn’t feel like explaining. It’s like I’m just… remembering with someone else who was there too. This feels so natural. Between you and I.”

She smiles, feeling a warmth blossom within her. “It’s strange, isn’t it? I mean, if someone had told me even a month ago that I’d be here with you, talking like this…” She trails off, laughing softly, feeling a little lost for words. “I would’ve thought they were crazy. But here we are.”

Sukuna chuckles, the sound surprisingly warm, free of his usual biting edge. “Crazy doesn’t even begin to cover it.” He pauses, his gaze meeting hers, searching as if he’s trying to decipher something hidden. “It feels like I know you… not just from now, but from a long time ago. Almost like I was meant to find you.”

His words send a shiver through her, a feeling both comforting and unsettling in its intensity. She nods slowly, letting the feeling settle within her. “I know what you mean,” she whispers, her voice barely above a breath. “It’s like we’re picking up where we left off… wherever that was.”

He takes a sip of his coffee, his gaze never leaving hers. “Every lifetime,” he murmurs, as if saying it to himself. “Every single one, I think I’d find you.” His hand drifts across the table, his fingers brushing hers in a tentative, almost reverent way. “And every time, I’d be the luckiest man alive.”

She looks down at his hand, his touch grounding her. “Do you believe in that, then? In soulmates? Lifetimes together?”

He smiles, almost a little sadly, as if unsure of his own answer. “Maybe I never did before… but with you, I can’t help but think maybe I was wrong.”

A comfortable silence settles between them, the words hanging like a delicate thread binding them together. After a while, he speaks again, his voice barely more than a whisper. “You… you make me see things differently, you know that? I just met you, but I just… I think it’s meant to be.”

There’s a vulnerability in his eyes, one she’d never expected to see. “Like maybe life doesn’t have to be as lonely as I thought it was. Or maybe, it just doesn’t matter, as long as I’m here… with you.”

Her heart aches at his words, sensing the pain he’s carried and the hope he’s now daring to hold onto. She laces her fingers with his, giving a gentle squeeze. “You don’t have to do it alone anymore, Sukuna-san,” she says softly. “Not as long as we have this. As long as we have each other. Maybe… maybe we’ll find something more to life together.”

He closes his eyes for a moment, exhaling a breath he didn’t know he was holding. When he opens them again, there’s something raw, something almost fragile in his gaze. “I’m… I’m honored,” he whispers gently, a small smile forming on his face. “If that means I’ll be able to live by your side in this life.”

She blushes, feeling the depth of his sincerity. “I’m just as grateful, you know?”

“Thank you.” he says, the words rough, yet sincere. “Thank you for seeing me.”

“You never have to say thank you to me.” She whispered back to him, smiling even wider. “Or say sorry. Okay?”

“Okay.” He smiles back at her, almost contagiously.

“So, do you….do you wanna watch a movie with me?”

“I’d be honored.”

In that moment, it feels as though nothing else exists—just her and him, caught in the quiet gravity of each other’s presence.

As the sun sets outside, casting a warm glow over their table, Ryomen Sukuna feels a flicker of something he thought long extinguished.

And as long as she’s beside him, he knows he’ll be right there with her, finding a new meaning to every breath and every heartbeat, perhaps better than he’d ever dreamed.

After that day, Ryomen Sukuna stopped having those nightmares about that long suffering concubine.

Instead, he started to dream of a tall man and that long suffering concubine, walking away from him — smiling. Together.

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HE WAS LUCKY HE MADE IT. He hadn’t slept much, but it was all worth it. He liked to think that he made his best gallery presentation yet. He knew she liked it just as much as he did. And that had made him even more happy.

He wasn’t the best of storytellers, he knew that much. Writing was more or less something else to him. But, art like this? He could do it. And so, as he promised, he would make happiness appear on his canvas. He would make that concubine happy again.

As the evening progresses, the atmosphere in the gallery transforms, infused with a blend of excitement and reverence. Guests drift in and out, their whispers and laughter weaving a tapestry of shared appreciation for Sukuna's work.

The vibrant energy of the space pulses with life, but at its core lies a poignant sense of introspection; a collective acknowledgment of the stories each painting holds.

Sukuna stands near the centerpiece, his gaze lingering on the depiction of himself and his concubine, locked in an eternal moment of tenderness. The hues swirl together, capturing not just their faces but the very essence of their souls; a connection that feels almost palpable. Each brushstroke is infused with the weight of longing and regret, but now, standing beside his companion, he recognizes a glimmer of hope amid the sorrow.

As the crowd ebbs and flows, Sukuna finds solace in watching her interact with the guests, her warmth radiating in waves. She engages effortlessly, sharing her thoughts on the art, her enthusiasm infectious.

He catches snippets of their conversations, her laughter ringing out like music, and he can’t help but smile at the ease with which she navigates the social landscape. It’s a stark contrast to his own guarded demeanor, and yet, her presence encourages him to lower his defenses, to engage in this world he once viewed from the shadows.

With each passing moment, Sukuna feels a shift within himself. The uncertainty that had plagued him for so long begins to dissolve, replaced by an exhilarating sense of possibility. As the crowd gradually dwindles, he glances at the painting again, his heart swelling with emotion. It’s more than just an image; it’s a testament to love that transcends time, a narrative that binds past and present.

Suddenly, he turns to find her standing close, her expression reflecting a mixture of admiration and something deeper. “You’ve poured so much of yourself into this, Sukuna.” she says softly, her eyes shimmering with sincerity. “It’s not just about the concubine; it’s about you, too. You’ve laid bare your soul.”

The intensity of her gaze sends a shiver down his spine, and he swallows hard, feeling exposed yet liberated. “I wanted to capture the essence of what we had… to honor her, in my own little ways.” he replies, his voice low and steady. “But I realize now it’s also about my journey. This is as much about my pain as it is about her love.”

She nods, her understanding palpable, and in that moment, he feels a deep connection; there was an unspoken bond that links them through shared experiences and emotions.

The weight of his past no longer feels like a burden; instead, it becomes a source of strength, a wellspring of creativity he can draw from as he embraces this new chapter in his life.

“I think you’ve done an incredible job of that, you know?” she says, her voice softening. “You’ve shown that even in our darkest moments, love remains a guiding light. It’s beautiful.”

Sukuna’s heart races at her words, and he feels a warmth blooming in his chest—a mixture of gratitude and affection. “Thank you, really.” he replies, his voice sincere. “It means a lot to hear that from you. You’ve been… a source of inspiration for me.”

Her smile deepens, and there’s a spark of something electric in the air, a subtle shift that sends his pulse racing. “I’m glad I could be here for you, you know?” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s a privilege to witness your journey, to see you reclaim a sad story to a happy one.”

He looks at her, the soft glow of the gallery lights illuminating her features, and he feels a wave of emotion wash over him. For so long, he had been shackled by the weight of his past, haunted by the ghost of his concubine and the mistakes that had led to their separation. But here, in this moment, standing with her amidst the beauty of his creations, he feels the chains loosening.

“Will you stay a little longer?” he asks, almost hesitantly, fearing her response. “I’d like to talk more… about the paintings, about everything.”

Her eyes light up, and the warmth in her smile reassures him. “I’d love that.” she replies, and they find a quieter corner of the gallery, away from the remnants of the evening’s festivities.

As they settle into a cozy nook, surrounded by the lingering essence of art and history, Sukuna feels a sense of calm wash over him. The world outside fades, leaving only the two of them and the unspoken connection that has blossomed between them.

“What do you see in these paintings?” he asks, eager to hear her perspective.

She leans forward, her gaze thoughtful. “I see love, loss, and resilience. Each piece speaks of a journey, a struggle to find beauty amidst pain. But what resonates most is the longing—the desire to reconnect with something that was lost. It’s powerful.”

He nods, her words echoing his own feelings, and as they discuss each painting in turn, he feels an exhilarating rush of creativity and clarity. The art becomes a conduit for their emotions, a way to explore the complexities of their shared experiences.

They dive deep into conversation, their voices low and intimate, each word exchanged drawing them closer together. She shares her own stories of loss and heartache, of moments when she thought she’d never find her way again. It’s a cathartic exchange, and he listens intently, captivated by her honesty and the strength she exudes.

With each revelation, Sukuna feels the walls that the King of Curses had built around himself begin to crumble. He shares his own struggles, the weight of his legacy, and the guilt that had shadowed him for centuries.

And perhaps, redemption may soon come for him in love. In this safe space, he finds himself opening up that man, that myth, that curse, in ways he never thought possible, unearthing emotions he had long buried.

The night wears on, and as the last of the guests trickle out, the gallery transforms into a cocoon of intimacy. It’s just him and her, surrounded by the echoes of their stories, and for the first time in ages, he feels a sense of belonging—a connection that transcends time and pain.

“I never thought I could feel this way again.” he admits, his voice thick with emotion. “After everything I’ve lived through… I thought I’d lost the ability to truly connect with anyone.”

She reaches out, her hand brushing against his in a gentle, reassuring gesture. “You haven’t lost that ability, Sukuna. You’ve just been waiting for the right moment, the right person….the right time.” she says, her gaze steady and filled with warmth. “I’m here now, and I want to be part of your journey.”

The sincerity in her words washes over him, and in that moment, he knows he’s found something rare—a connection that has the potential to redefine his understanding of love, art, and the future. The vulnerability he feels is both terrifying and exhilarating, but he knows he’s ready to embrace it.

As the last notes of music drift into silence and the soft, warm lights dim, the two of them sit close, hands intertwined, surrounded by the vibrant, intimate world he has created.

Each painting on the wall, each sculpture in the dim light feels like a memory brought to life, and she feels him relax beside her, the weight of his past somehow easing with each quiet heartbeat.

His thumb gently strokes her hand, and in that small, tender motion, she feels him say more than words ever could. With her here, in this sanctuary he’s built out of his own creativity and passion, he’s no longer the solitary figure haunted by shadows. He’s simply a man who has finally, against all odds, found someone who can see past his darkness and anchor him in light.

Ryomen Sukuna pauses, his hand still entwined with hers, and a rare, gentle smile crosses his face.

Looking at the painting, he lets himself hope, just a little. Perhaps, even in a world he once saw as cold and unyielding, there are threads of something beautiful woven into his story. Perhaps, even for someone like him, there could be a happy ending, one he’d never dared to imagine.

He leans down and whispers softly, almost as if confessing a secret. “I like to think they found each other again, you know? That somehow… this time, they got to be happy.”

She squeezes his hand, her eyes shining with warmth and understanding. “I like to think that too.” she replies gently, her voice full of affection.

They walk out together, the cool night air surrounding them as they leave his art behind. And as he catches her smile, he feels his heart swell with gratitude and a strange sense of peace.

For once, he isn’t looking back, haunted by the ghosts of what once was. Instead, he’s looking forward—toward a future that, with her beside him, feels so much brighter than he ever thought possible.

In his heart, he offers a silent prayer, hoping that they’ll continue to find each other, in this life and in all the ones to come. And as they disappear into the night, hands intertwined, this Ryomen Sukuna hopes that the King of Curses finally allows himself to believe that, this time, happiness might be his after all.

══════════════════

THERE WOULD BE NO MEMORY OF THIS WHEN HE’S REBORN. Ryomen Sukuna knows that much. That is the will of the unknown, of the gods unseen and unheard. He does not care much about the propriety of the accuracy. Why should it matter what their name is? He was dead, why should he care?

In the stillness of the afterlife, everything feels suspended, timeless. Everything was not what he had expected. Long ago, he had resigned himself to the thought that a final death would lead to the depths of burning inferno. And yet, it was not. He was stuck in a journey, a journey that continuously repeats over and over again.

He does not know what those gods intended with that. What was the purpose designed by the gods? What was the purpose of this journey? He had asked himself that for hundreds of years, walking and walking like the pilgrim he was and yet without end in sight. There was no road that was left to find a stop.

Perhaps, that is until now.

Ryomen Sukuna was the first to notice.

There was a wide shoji that appeared before them.

Ryomen Hiromi was quite unsure about what that was all about. But when she stepped right in front of it, the field protecting it had barred her from even touching it. She pursed her lips in a flat line. This door was not one for her to enter.

And she probably had already known that. Looking at him with those knowing purple eyes, she knew that it was not for her. It was for him. The gods had sent him a path, and it was not to be with her. It was a road for him to take, a road that was for him. Only him.

He took a short step towards it and allowed his hands to feel the space occupied by the massive wooden shoji. His touch could pierce its space. It was truly for him. There was no mistake in that. Uraume looked at him with a tense uncertainty. His most loyal Uraume is quite that timid child, still. Just as when Sukuna had met them years and years ago.

For a moment, it reminded him of Chizuru. That gentleness of that youth, that tenderness of youth. He could only see his little one. The little one that he misses most. His soul is already at peace, and perhaps Sukuna would never see him again.

He doesn’t deserve to. He wasn’t a good father to him. But moments like this, it gives him relief. Even if Chizuru didn’t need him anymore, then someone else did. And that someone still needed him. Even if he wasn’t the person suited to be needed.

Sukuna looked down at them, and then nodded reassuringly. Uraume reached forward and gasped. Their touch too pierced through its barrier. Of course, Sukuna thought to himself. Uraume tied their entire life to him.

They were one in the same. The loyal servant cannot live without the master. No, no. Sukuna corrects himself. There was always a need for someone. People will always need people.

He stands there idly as Ryomen Hiromi stood beside him, though keeping a distance. Everything around them had grown brighter. Brighter than before. All that surrounded them had been bathed in a soft, eternal light that neither burns nor fades.

This place, this moment, is for closure—a place where the bonds of the past can either linger or be released. A purgatory for souls, sinner or not. All souls look the same to the gods. Well, that’s what Hiromi had told him.

Sukuna’s gaze rests on Hiromi, taking in the warmth in her expression, the calmness in her presence. Even here, she glows with an inner light that he has always cherished. Serene as the moonlight, as mellow as the clouds.

There had always been a quiet grace that no one could replicate. He had known that in his long lifetime. And for as long as he had lived, he thought that his job had been to protect it. To protect her. No matter what, with everything in him — even if it often meant tearing down the world around him.

For a long while, they simply stand together, the weight of their shared history resting between them. A thousand years, feeling even more than that, reflected in the understanding that came in the silence. He had known her too well, she had known him too well.

There was nothing left between them. Only knowing. And perhaps, that’s why it wouldn’t have ever worked. He thinks about that. Knowing someone, even too well, will never truly be living a life with them.

There was too much he did not know about her life. There was much she did not know about his own. They had lived lives that grew out of their tender love. People who loved each other so much, that they risked everything in the world — finally became two boats in the night waiting for each other to pass.

Perhaps that’s all that there could be, he thinks about it now. No matter how much he loved her, no matter how much he still does love her — they were parallel lines. Right people, wrong place. Right place, wrong time.

That in itself was hard to admit, he knows that. He always has. But it was hard to say. It was hard to accept. Perhaps it always will be. Yet there is so much more beyond that grief of something already lost. Of life already lived and passed by. No matter how much he wants to follow Ryomen Hiromi with all the love in his heart, with all the devotion given from all his life, there will always be fate. And fate knows better than he.

As much as he tries, he was not a god.

He will never be one, he has tried to be.

He was just a sinner, a cruel cursed sinner.

Taking a deep breath, Sukuna speaks, his voice soft, yet resolute. "I can feel it, Hiromi." he says, looking down at his feet. “Somewhere out there……..I am soon to be reborn. Soon….I must enter this door.”

Ryomen Hiromi’s face softens, and a knowing smile tugs at her lips. She tilts her head, teasing, but with a hint of sadness that she can’t entirely hide. How could she? Ryomen Sukuna was her person. He was her family. Her dearest friend, her confidant. The man she loved, still does love. The love of her life.

But she knew that he was not yet ready. Perhaps he will never be ready to move forward like this. There was much tying him to the world of the living. To the earthly life. And she knew it wouldn't be her. It will never be her.

She could see it in the corner of his scarlet eyes. He too had lived a life. He had moved on. And he wants to see that loved one again. He wants to return. Even if he does not know it. He wants to see that smile on her face again.

"So, you’ll stop following me now, huh?"

He chuckles, the sound quiet, almost reverent, as he brings her hand to his chest. "I’ll love you most in the world, you know that.” he murmurs, each word weighed with truth. “You were the part of me that was good, Hiromi. Everything I am….was because of you.”

She looks at him, shaking her head. She remains smiling. “Endless flattery is not your style.”

His eyes warmed towards her. “It is not flattery if it's true. You know that most. I do not lie, not easily. Not without reason.”

“I know.” She huffs back in response, her eyes lowered to the floor. “I know you too well.”

“I need to go. You know that. There are still…..too much left undone. I have a lot to make amends for, things I must repair.” His voice grows steady, almost solemn. “I need to start with someone else I love. Someone who’s waiting, on the other side of the shore.”

Hiromi’s gaze flickers, her surprise shifting to understanding. There’s a light in her bright purple eyes, a pride that only deepens as she studies his face. For a moment, she wondered when he had grown up. When had he aged this well, lived this well. A part of her mourns the things they never saw. But she knew it was too late. He had someone else waiting to see those sides of him now.

“I always hoped you’d find something worth living for, beyond me. Beyond our clan. Beyond Jujutsu.” she says, her words carrying an emotion he hadn’t expected. She laughs. “You’ve done well, Sukuna. I know you would. And now you’re better at admitting your faults. You’ve….you’ve truly grown up! Father and uncle would be so glad to see it, don’t you think?”

The weight of her words settles deeply into him, her silent devotion across lifetimes coming into sharp focus. Ryomen Sukuna closes his eyes, feeling the immensity of all that they’ve shared, all that he’s never truly expressed.

“There’s still much for me to set right, Hiromi.” He looks at her, his expression softening as he finally speaks the words he’s never quite managed to say before. “But the love we shared… It's the best part of me. It’s the part of me I want to carry into the next life. Everything you taught me, it will be for the better.”

A soft laugh escapes her once more, and she shakes her head as if she’s hearing a promise she’s waited lifetimes for him to make. Her hand reaches up, gentle, almost motherly, as she brushes a stray hair back from his face. Leaning in, she presses a delicate kiss to his cheek.

“You don’t have to say anything else. I’ve always known you loved me.” She pulls back slightly, her hand lingering against his face. “I’ll always love you too, Sukuna. But we have different lives now. Paths that aren’t tied together anymore. No paths are bound, after all. Isn’t that what was taught?”

Her words are tender but firm, and he nods, finally accepting what she’s known all along. “I know.” he whispers, the smile on his face tinged with the bittersweet ache of goodbye. “But I think I’ll be alright, night flower. I’ve found something, someone… who I believe can make me better. She’s out there, waiting.”

For a moment, she could feel her heart shatter. In that moment, to remember what he had called her. With those words, with that tone of finality. With that tone of farewell. She could feel the warmth of water echo through her eyes. But she tries to make sure they do not pour. Those tears shouldn’t be poured. Not for him. He does not need it. She must send him happily. She must send him off with a smile. A good farewell.

Hiromi pulls away, her hand slipping from his, though her gaze remains fixed on him with a profound love and pride. Her bright eyes gleamed at him, even brighter than before. She smiles at him, though he could notice how tight it was. No matter how happy she is for him — she will mourn. She can’t help it.

“Then, I want you to find her, hm?” she says softly, the conviction in her voice like a benediction. “Find her and find your happiness, the kind that lasts. The kind that you finally deserve.”

He nods, and there’s a rare, open softness in his expression, a gratitude as deep as the ages they’ve spent together. He takes a good look at her, as though he was memorizing this moment. For as long as it still lasts, he wants to remember it. He wants to remember her, giving her blessing.

“Then, I’ll go, nightflower.” he says, his voice low and filled with purpose. “I’ll find her… and try to live the life I dreamed of with you.”

Hiromi smiles gently, and with one last lingering look, she turns to leave, pausing only to say. “Someday, I hope to meet her too—the one who brought you peace. Bring her back with you. So that I may thank her for taking care of you.”

He nodded at her. He takes a deep breath as he lowers his gaze and sees Uraume looking at him, as though asking for courage. Sukuna takes Uraume’s hand and tightly grips it, but is careful not to hurt them. A ghostly smile appears on his face, beaming it towards them.

Uraume could feel their eyes glisten as they felt the warmth of that smile. Uraume could feel warmth in them, tenderness — tenderness that molds their will to live with courage. Sukuna turns his head slightly, looking at Hiromi. His smile gets wider, and becomes more honest than before. She smiled at him, waving him off.

As he and Uraume walked towards the shoji, Ryomen Hiromi knew that she too has to move away. Ryomen Sukuna slowly watches her walk away into the path of light, alone, feeling the weight of a thousand lifetimes lifting from his shoulders. He could feel his breath hitch as he watches her walk away, perhaps for the final time, perhaps until they get reborn again.

If you were not waiting for him, if he had not met you, if he had not loved you — perhaps he would have turned away from these doors and moved towards the path of life and rejected rebirth. He would have let his soul rest in peace for all of time. But he knows that he was no longer that person anymore. He wanted to move forward. He wanted to break the cycle. He wanted to be with you.

Ryomen Sukuna is ready to face the world again, this time with a purpose that is as clear as the love he feels for the woman he will now seek. He must atone. He must live a new life. He must make you happy.

Both of you will be happy, he knows that. And as he steps forward, towards his own rebirth, he carries her blessings, his heart finally open to the happiness he had once believed was out of reach. He will live it now. He will atone, he will find redemption. He will make you happy.

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solxamber · 5 months ago

Note

Hello! I humbly request Skully J. Graves for the spooky season, please and thank you! (Ps, I LOVE YOUR VILLIANESS SERIES SO MUCH. if you put him in the series, I would love it. Thank you.

Frights and Fancies - Skully J. Graves x reader

I've finally finished the first part of the Halloween event story and here we go! Skully J. Graves for the spooky season!

(this was written before part 2 of the event was out so it might be ooc)

It was almost Halloween, and the Ramshackle Dorm looked like it had exploded in pumpkins, cobwebs, and fake skeletons. Well, not fake enough for Skully, who was currently trying to rearrange a skeleton to perfectly mimic Jack Skellington’s iconic pose.

“This is it! This is exactly how Jack looked when he stood atop Spiral Hill!” Skully beamed, leaning back with a gleeful twirl. “I could cry!”

“Please don’t,” Grim muttered, slumped on the couch like a cat who’d had enough of life. “I’ve seen way too much Halloween today. I’m exhausted.”

You stifled a laugh as Skully pranced across the room, his long coat flowing behind him dramatically. He stopped by a cobweb you’d just hung, delicately adjusting it with reverence. “Ah, this is a masterpiece! The precision, the artistry—oh, Jack would be proud!”

“I bet Jack has a restraining order,” Grim mumbled, rubbing his eyes.

Skully didn’t seem to notice the sass. “You don’t understand, Grim! Jack Skellington is the Pumpkin King! He is the very soul of Halloween! Imagine... if I could bring him here, right to this very dorm... oh, we would throw the greatest Halloween party the world has ever seen!”

“You’re throwing it right now, and I hate it,” Grim muttered, pulling a pillow over his head.

Skully, undeterred, rushed over to the pile of pumpkins by the door, holding up the largest one like a trophy. “This one’s going to be the pièce de résistance! I’m going to carve Jack’s face into it—oh, the precision, the skill! It’ll be a tribute!”

You were barely able to stop yourself from laughing as Skully started sketching an intricate face into the pumpkin. It was hard not to get caught up in his excitement, even if it was a little... obsessive.

“Hey, uh, shouldn’t we maybe, I don’t know, check the snacks or something?” you suggested, trying to save Grim from further mental collapse. “We’ve got a whole room full of sweets to prepare.”

“Oh! Of course!” Skully jumped to his feet, pumpkin forgotten. “We must create a feast worthy of Halloween Town itself! Grim, you’ll love this—there will be so many sweets, you won’t be able to handle it!”

“Sounds like my personal hell,” Grim groaned, finally sitting up. “Do we have to? I was kinda hoping to nap.”

Skully was already halfway to the kitchen, humming some eerie tune under his breath. You shot Grim an apologetic look, but he was too busy glaring at the ceiling like he was making a pact with some unseen force to end Halloween forever.

The kitchen was soon filled with the smells of spiced pumpkin and sugary treats. Skully was in his element, flitting around like a Halloween-obsessed ghost, talking nonstop about Jack Skellington, the Pumpkin King, and all the Halloween traditions from his foggy village.

“And no one here at school even knows about Jack!” Skully was saying for probably the twentieth time. “Can you believe that? It’s like they’ve never even heard of Halloween!”

“Maybe they’re lucky,” Grim grumbled, stuffing his face with a pumpkin tart.

Skully either didn’t hear him or didn’t care. He had already moved on to decorating cookies, carefully icing tiny skeleton faces onto each one. “Jack’s elegance, his charisma! He’s the epitome of what Halloween should be.”

“Jack this, Jack that...” Grim sighed dramatically. “If I hear that name one more time—”

“I could name the pumpkin Jack,” Skully suggested, completely serious.

“No!” Grim snapped. “Let the pumpkin live its own life! Let it be free!”

You snorted, almost dropping the tray of cupcakes you were setting out. Skully blinked, confused for just a moment, before smiling his usual charming smile. “Ah, Grim, you always know how to liven things up.”

“I’m this close to being a ghost myself,” Grim muttered.

By the time the evening rolled around, Ramshackle Dorm had been transformed into a veritable Halloween haven. Cobwebs draped across the walls, pumpkins lined every surface, and the faint glow of eerie lights filled the air. Skully stood in the center of it all, arms wide open as he surveyed his masterpiece.

“This... this is the Halloween of my dreams,” Skully said softly, his voice full of awe. “I couldn’t have done it without you two.”

Grim gave a halfhearted wave from his spot on the couch, already half-asleep again, but Skully’s gratitude was genuine. You smiled, watching as he twirled around one more time, completely in his element.

“Well,” you said, “if Jack Skellington could see this, I’m sure he’d be impressed.”

Skully’s face lit up like a jack-o’-lantern. “You really think so?”

“Absolutely,” you replied, adjusting a crooked pumpkin. “You’ve done Halloween proud.”

Skully gave a deep bow, flourishing his coat as if he were addressing royalty. “Then, in Jack’s name, I thank you both!”

From the couch, Grim groaned. “I’m gonna need a vacation after this…”

As Skully danced around the room, humming Halloween tunes and praising Jack Skellington, you couldn’t help but smile. Sure, it had been a lot of work, but seeing Skully so happy—and hearing Grim’s constant complaints—made it all worth it.

This was going to be a Halloween to remember.

Masterlist

Also I'd love to add him the the villainess series, but I'll wait till atleast part 2 of the Halloween event to completely understand him before I do!

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #skully j graves #twst skully #skully x reader #skully j graves x reader #twst skully x reader #skully j. graves #skully j. graves x reader

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oops-all-concrete · 1 year ago

Text

Okay, you lovelies voted for fluff, so you're getting fluff! Welcome to:

BG3 companions react to: Tav drawing the companions in their sketch book! (Romance implied)

Beware spoilers and cuteness ahead, please enjoy!

Lae'zel -

Eventually she gets irritated of being stared at, while Tav is sat pencil in book and puts down her sword from being sharpened, and paces over. "Chk. You've been ogling at me like a child for at least ten minutes. Is it with purpose or are you simply bad at keeping to yourself?" She asks, head tilted with wide eyed threat. Once she gets a glance at the page, she softens, jaw unclenching, shoulders dropping. She admires the sketch before she realises she too, is staring. "Hmm. Acceptable. Continue" Before she returns to her tent, and totally doesn't stay stiller on purpose.

Shadowheart -

Shadowheart doesn't suspect a thing, until she passes by them and totally doesn't take a glance in the journal from over Tavs shoulder. She pauses and appreciates the work long enough for Tav to realise they're being watched. "Oh don't mind me. I'm just appreciating my good side from your point of view." She smiles. "Oh, we should draw each other! I haven't sketched in so long, but I'd like for you to see what I see too." She offers, going and grabbing her own sketch set, sitting beside Tav, comfortably drawing them.

Wyll -

He allows Tav their privacy, even if they stare sometimes. He needs to be physically shown because he is too polite to snoop or look over their shoulder. Upon being shown, he smiles, but winces a little. "Oh, I love it, don't get me wrong. You've captured the Blade of Frontiers in all his glory...just, all his glory with horns and the devil's details" He chuckles, trying not to seem dissappointed. But upon another look, his eyes become wider with wonder. "...you know what, if thats what I look like to you, it's not as bad as I thought." He smiles.

Karlach -

She's nosy, okay? So when Tav puts down their book to help Gale with dinner, she sneaks a little peek, grabbing the pages with a clean cloth. She however, gives herself away immediately. "WOAH??" The whole camp turns but Karlach does not take notice. "SOLDIER?? YOU DREW THIS?? THIS IS AMAZING!" She yells, eyes bright, brows up, grin wide with teeth. The camp settles while dinner happens, but later in the evening, she pulls Tav aside to show them something. Upon a large empty plot of just dirt, Tav finds their face messily drawn with a stick into the dirt. "Can't quite draw right now, or ever really, but I wanted you to have a portrait too. Not bad, eh?"

Gale -

"Oh, and who's that handsome fellow?" He smirks, catching sight of the page one day. He asks for a better look and takes a moment to admire the sketch, before frowning. "Did you...draw me with gray hairs? Am I graying??" He asks, a hand combing through his so well maintained mane. "You didn't know?" Astarion weighs in, finding an opportunity to bully the wizard. "For a human, you are at that age, are you not, Gale?" Lae'zel adds. The wizard makes an almost theatric gasp, crossing his arms. "Gray suits you Gale!" Karlach insists, taking the drawing from Gale and admiring it. Gale pauses, looks again, and grins. "Now that you mention it..."

Astarion -

"Okay, so, that's clearly not any of the imbeciles over there, what handsome young men have you been seeing without me?" He jokes. It takes a minute, but the way Tav looks between Astarion and the book, gives it away. "...oh. That's me?" He seems to entirely lose his ability to speak. He gestures to take the book and have a better look, running his hand over the sketches, and then over his face, seeming almost confused. When prompted, he clears his throat. "Well, it's- ah, certainly flattering. Nice to have such a flattering mirror" He smiles, slipping back into his more confident persona. "In fact, I'd love to keep such a flattering masterpiece, if that would be quite alright with you?" He smiles confidently, but the way his eyes stray to the sketch tells all.

Bonus! The older generation

Halsin -

"I cannot recall the last time I have received a portrait in such likeness." He smiles fondly when Tav shows him the piece. "Might I take this back to the Grove? I'm particularly fond of anything you do really- but especially this" He asks, warm smile spread over his face. Should Tav allow it, he gives the best hug in thanks, promising to return the flattery in kind. (Yes, it will be whittling)

Jaheira -

Of course she gets a look while Tav is distracted. "Not bad. Better that bard songs, that's for sure" She smiles, nodding at the adventurer. She takes a second look and thinks for a moment. "...When did my face get so wrinkly?" She asks in a vaguely dissapointed wonder.

Minsc -

"Oh, my friend, you have a talent of flattery!" He claps and grins when he sees the work, but seems to be looking for something. "Oh- Erm, might I ask a question...where is Boo? You cannot have the great Minsc without his tiny, fluffy brain on his shoulder!" He asks, proudly producing the hamster in hand. Tav turns the page to reveal quite a few sketches of Boo. "What?? Did Boo pose for these?? How is he so accurately cute?? BOO, YOU LOOK ADORABLE! WHY DID NOBODY TELL MINSC IT WAS PORTRAIT DAY??"

Thank you for reading! Let me know what you'd like to read next. I have another poll coming soon as well 👀

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skitskatdacat63 · 1 year ago

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Process :]

“Amore et Timore” - King Fernando I “El Animoso”

#i really like the emotion of the first sketch but i dont think it looks enough like him #i think my favorite part is always when i start painting stuff on top of the line art #bcs i dont like doing ultra clean lineart anymore if im just gonna paint over it #and painting over it means i can fix things i couldnt really get right in the lineart #its always atill crazy for me to see the steps like this #and i like this one bcs i saved a pic in the middle of painting which is really interesting to get to see #i should really do timelapses but i always forget to set them so #i really struggled w a lot of this so im glad it turned out well #i think once i get to the rendering stage its smooth sailing #lineart is probably the worst part bcs the sketch can be iffy but then i actually have to try and fix things #but as i said its good when i get to the painting stage bcs i can just paint over anything i didn like #for example: his nose and eyes. i struggled w so badly but painting them? so good!!!#i didnt care about the fabric in this unfortunately #i wanna learn more about it so i can give him super intricate detailed clothing bcs i think hed eear that #but i always paint the face first and then remember oh yeah theres clothes too oops #hehehehe anyways thank you for all yeh compliments on the hands. it pleases me bcs theyre in fact MY hands #idk i find it funny whenever people compliment me on poses and stuff #especially hands. bcs the first process of a drawinf for me is taking pose reference of myself #and i really wanted to do a portrsit with hands so i took a lot of hand centered pics so im glad it worked out #okay now hopefully i can mske a seb version of this 🥺🥺#so i can drop his name and motto lote on you guys too #my issue is i put more work into my posts and art than i do school 💀#like no no i cant just make a little lore post for their mottos and nicknames #I MUST PAINT SOMETHING! okay catie....#catie.rambling.txt

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slut4sugu · 3 months ago

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RANDOM 42!MILES HCS pt.2 lol

! 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ listens to Tyler, the creator (that boy was waiting for chromokopia to drop), Kendrick, future, gunna, metro boomin and frank ocean ! 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ almost cried while listening to like him; says he thinks the song is mid ts hurt his soul ! 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ stays up late at night trying to perfect a damn sketch that he did months ago ! 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ cussed someone out for almost stepping on his j’s dem shits like 2 years old but that boy don’t give a fuck ! 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ FaceTimes you randomly asking for your opinion on a sketch to then get side tracked into asking you about your day ! 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ starts mocking the way you talk when you catch an attitude with him, “don’t be mad I’m clocking tf out yo tea.” “Don’t get beat miles.” ! 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ will climb on top of you when your laying down and rest his whole body on your back just to annoy you; and when you ask him to get up so you can breathe he’ll just be like “ what’s the magic word princesa?” “Oh my fuck- please.” “Actually it was demure, also watch your language ma it isn’t very mindful of you.” “The way I’m boutta hurt you is gonna be far from mindful, now get off me your heavy ass is crushing my titties.”

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dworkism · 26 days ago

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⋆.˚— mha boys x support!gn!reader

ft. hanta s., izuku m., eijiro k., denki k.

scenario : their first encounters with you—a support course student—and how they slowly catch feelings for you :)

warnings : slight swearing

a/n : reader is gender neutral!! also sososososo sorry if they’re ooc :((( i might've went a little much on kiri....

Hanta first met you because he had just broken his gears to bits and pieces, and desperately needed help to fix it right away. When he entered the support course workshop, no one was there because it was lunch. He grumbled and sighed. That was until he heard your tinkering and drilling noise.

“Hey uh…” He awkwardly steps in, chuckling, making you look up from your work. “C-can you… help me… please?” He hands out his hands, holding the remains of what seemed to be his gear, now only pieces of metal and screws. He chuckled sheepishly, gazing upon your shocked face.

“How did you even…” You muttered in disbelief, eyeing the broken pieces. The response you got was another guilty chuckle.

From that broken gear, you offered to make a new gear for him. Because of that, he started seeing you more often to test out and discuss how he wanted his new gear to be. From that, he began to catch feelings; from the way you look so focused and engrossed in your work, the way your eyes would glint ambition and adrenaline every time you saw a chance to make an improvement in your work, the way your arms looked covered in sweat, everything.

he started to bring lunch to you, because he knows you like to work through lunch. Even learned how to make those bento boxes for you (the seaweed faces always look jumbled)

he offered to help you fix a gear with his tape once.

when you laughed at his jokes, he would be IN THE SKIES cause oh my goodness you look so cute, your laugh is so nice :(

got kinda sad cause you finished his gear, but then made excuses like; “Uhm… I think it might need some tweaks” (it doesn’t) and would say he needs readjustments just so that you can measure him again (he likes LOVES your hands touching his arms)

shows off the gear you made to his friends, saying that his gear is a blessing from the gods

found out what your favorite snack was and would always bring it with him every time he drops by

would take out his phone to secretly shazam the songs you listen to while working just so he can get into your music taste and have topics of what to talk about to you

ORRR when he found out that you liked the same artists, he would gasp audibly and ramble on with you of his and your favorite songs

as time went by, he got bolder and threw lame ass pick up lines to you like; “You’re the screwdriver to my screw” with a shit-eating grin, and you would get caught off guard, “Hanta… what.”

OH!!!!!!!! At first, when you first got to know him, you would call him by his last name, but that time when you slipped and said his first name, he went all giddy and giggled throughout the discussion, and would sometimes stay silent when you ask him just so that he can hear you call his name again.

Izuku stumbled upon you because you two weren’t really keeping your eyes on the road as you walked through the hallway of classes, and bumped against him as you were sketching your gear on your journal. He too, was muttering nonsense as he was trying to come up with a new power move, flipping and flopping through the pages of that dear notebook of his.

“So if combine Kamui’s move and–” THUD! Oof!

“Oof! ...Oh my goodness, I’m so very sorry…” He got up, rubbing his head sheepishly as he slowly propped himself up on his feet. Yet, his gaze landed upon your open sketchbook; the angles, corners and curves of the equipment you sketched, and the little notes you would put by the sides of your sketch, he instantly exclaimed, “Are these your sketches?! They are amazing!!” He looked at you with stars in his eyes, pointing to the circular gear you had carefully drawn on the paper. You didn’t even get the chance to say your apologies, let alone answer his question before he gasped in realization. “You’re in the support course!” Which you only chuckled sheepishly and nodded to as a response.

After that one encounter, Izuku would always wave to you whenever you pass by him, and you would wave back. After some time, he would randomly run up to you to ask for suggestions on how he should improve his gears, and every answer you provide him always made him more amazed than before. He adored how you’re so smart, and efficient in providing solutions. He finds himself smiling every time he looked at you pondering upon his questions, he thinks the way you would scratch the edge of your hairline, or pucker your lips slightly every time you were thinking was adorable.

would ask you stuff around the support course; “Why did you decide to choose this course?” , “How do you even figure out what to fix?” so on and so forth.

would say that he’s going to the workshop to see Hatsume, but in reality he was trying to get a peek of you working

sneaked a picture of you working with your headphones once and panicked about it in his dorm because he thought he had invaded your privacy (but he loves the picture sm)

slowly built up the courage to talk to you while you worked and would sometimes even request a small tweak to his own

gets all red whenever you smile to him and cheers to himself; ‘I talked to her! Yes! Yes!!’ (he in fact only said “oh!” and “okay”)

asks Hatsume what you like and jots it down in his notebook very eagerly

found out your favorite pro hero and gave you small charms of them to you,

like he would go up to you one day and hand you a keychain of the hero shyly; “T-this is… for you…” and when you smiled and thanked him, he went red-er than he already is.

is a huge nerd for your gears, and would always be eager to learn the way you craft them. At one point, he even asked to be taught how to fix one.

you laughed at him because he made a silly mistake that led him to be electrocuted slightly

one time you complimented his hair smelled nice, and ever since then, he never changed his shampoo brand

would sometimes zone out watching you work while smiling sheepishly, giggling quietly to himself

panicked when he overused and broke a gear you had fixed for him and apologized to you, bowing repeatedly

rambles to his mom about you, and she would just listen, nodding while smiling.

Eijiro's encounter with you was a rather strange one. The support course was assigned to observe and monitor the training grounds simulation equipment that day, along with class 1A's training. They were supposed to test out their gears that day, to see if it was durable enough to go through extreme situations like storms or rubbles. Everything seemed to go on smoothly.

You hear a faint crack from the left of where you stood. It seemed that other from testing the gears, they should've also tested the training ground first. In the middle of the raging simulated storm, the angry droplets of rain landing on top of the glass that protected you, an abstracted piece of rock flung towards you. Sharp, solid, and it looked deadly. In panic, your hands desperately hit the glass surrounding you. Your pen rang, attacking the glass. Pang! Pang! Pang! Yet your efforts seemed to be useless against the thick layers of glass.

CRACK! Hands covered your head, curled up, desperate to protect at least an inch of your head. Too afraid to look, you closed your eyes...

It has been a good few seconds, but the impact you had expected didn't graze an inch of your skin, only the slowing down wet drops of rain, the winds swinging and swaying your increasingly soaked hair, and the sound of someone's ragged breath.

"A-...are you alright...?" The red haired boy grinned, his teeth sharp like a shark's.

From that one encounter, you went your way to thank him. You gave him a small shark-shaped trinket you had made; and also some little snacks. You stuck on a bright neon-yellow sticky note; 'Thanks for saving my life :)' and that made him consider of being friends with you. (and said that the shark trinket was really manly)

after finding out what class you were in, he asked how you were holding up from the incident

even asked if you went to recovery girl (you weren't even hurt)

thanked you for the shark trinket, and said that it's very MANLY!!!

he shows off the trinket to his friends and even made it a necklace

started to request gear tweaks to you, and finds himself admiring how you handle heavy tools

despite being in the hero course, and seeing strong people everyday, he finds himself captivated by your strength

he admired the way you would put others before yourself, and would even listen to his requests about his gears

one day, he came back from training and came in to fix the gear he scratched. you gave him a bandage to patch himself up with, and that was what hit him pretty hard

started to copy the way you made him a thank you letter, and got you protein bars (lol)

slowly started to make a habit of spraying some perfume on himself before going into the workshop

one day, he built up the courage of asking you to go to lunch together with him, and when you accepted, he had to hold back a cheer

liked his smile more ever since you said it reminded you of a shark

finds himself teased by his friends because of how often he visits the workshop now

Denki had accidentally fried his brain and gear on a training. He had always thought the fried gears weren't that much of a big deal, the only difference now is that—the gear wouldn't open up, and it clasped his hand inside. It hurt, a lot. Worse, every time he tried to move, it would only tighten. After grumbling from being laughed at by Jirou and Mina, he went to the support course workshop to find anyone or anything to help him. That was when he caught an eye at you!

So over the last thirty minutes, you have been carefully twisting and turning your screwdriver over the screws that were already fixed into his gear. Your movements were slow, fearful, cautious that a sudden movement would only cut his hand off. But not for him, his eyes has only been looking at how your tongue stuck out from the corner of your mouth as you slowly tilted your head to reach the screws on his gear. It made him snicker. Occasionally, you would even ask him stuff to distract him from the pain.

"Did that tighten?" "No" were the two lines that echoed between the two of you. You would make sure he was okay, and he would nod his head or say yes. From that gear mishap, you tested out different tools and spare parts that are able to stand high voltages of electricity, and so, naturally, he was also there often to test those out. He finds himself slowly having faster ba-dump's in his chest every time you would tend to him after he short circuited, or warned him to slow down, or how warm your hands were when you took off the gears from his arms.

would purposely short circuit himself so that you tend to him

sometimes would sneakily charge your phone with his quirk while you weren't looking

says he doesn't understand how to use his gear (it has the exact buttons from his previous ones)

"can you demonstrate it please" "it's more complex now that you've made modifications on it"

found out what food you liked and would just "accidentally have it" while he visits like; "Oh you like sweet bread? Such a coincidence! I have one right now!"

makes nicknames for you like; "wow you're such a tech wizz!" or "robot brain"

gives you his keychains and pins and say that "they remind me of you so might as well give it to you" while shrugging nonchalantly

loves to make you laugh, and would sometimes short circuits on purpose for that

would invite you to lunch with him and his friends, and after you left, he would ask them; "See? I told you all they're amazing"

likes to draw you in his notebook when he's bored of listening to the teacher

got really happy when he knew what songs you like, and started learning them on the guitar

either throws the weirdest pick up lines ever; "you're like the yee to my haw" or the most POETIC line ever; "I like that your hands are as warm as summer on my skin" like huh....??? :D

would clip your loose hair back whenever he's sitting beside you when you're working

dworkism | do not repost!

a/n : yaayy i hope this was goodd, becaauusee this is my first time writing multiple characters so i hope i didn't stray too far from their characters :)

➤ masterlist!

#dworkism #sero hanta x reader #izuku midoriya x reader #eijiro kirishima x reader #denki kaminari x reader #mha #mha x reader #bnha #bnha x reader #mha fluff #sero hanta #izuku midoriya #eijirou kirishima #denki kaminari

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jinwoosbabyboo · 4 months ago

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Talk to Me, I Talk Back

The Lads Men don't play about you HOWEVER COMMA you also don't play about them. [Requested by: Anon]

Zayne

You and Zayne were standing in line to order coffee. The line moved slowly and just as you two were up next some lady pushed in front of you, shoving Zayne into you.

MC: She don't see us?

Zayne: I'm sure she has her reasons for cutting

MC: She shoved you Zayne

Zayne: Let's not cause a scene in this cafe

MC: Frankly I don't give a damn

You stepped up bumping the lady with your hip hard. She tumbled off to the side nearly falling face first into the display case.

Stranger: Well excuse me!

MC: You're excused wait in line next time instead of shoving my man out of the way.

Zayne: So much for not causing a scene *pinching the bridge of his nose*

Rafayel

You decided to go on a walk with Rafayel because he wanted to clear his head before he started sketching. He spoke animatedly making big gestures with his hands and ended up accidentally knocking a passerby's phone from their hand.

Stranger: Hey asshole watch yourself!

Rafayel: Sorry ma'am it was an accident

Stranger: What if you broke it!?

MC: *picks up her phone* It landed in the grass without a scratch its fi-

The stranger snatched it from your hand. You draw back in shock and looked at Rafayel to make sure he was seeing this tomfoolery as well.

Rafayel: *whispering* stay calm

Stranger: Tell your boyfriend to be more careful!

MC: *Snatches the phone and slams it on the concrete* Maybe you should be more careful look at that you broke your phone

You grabbed Rafayels' wrist and pulled him along.

Rafayel: That was sexy ... I think I'm hard now

Xavier

You and Xavier stood outside of Jeremiahs flower shop trying to agree on somewhere to eat. Suddenly a stranger waddled up and shoved a stack of papers in Xaviers arms.

Stranger: Hand these out

Xavier: Uhhh

MC: You could ask a bit nicer don't you think?

Stranger: Shut up lady this is a conversation between men

You tucked your phone in your pocket, grabbed the stack of papers from Xavier and dropped them in the nearest trash can.

MC: Now your conversation is done let's go Xav

The stranger sputtered in disbelief as you dragged Xavier away.

Xavier: He probably just needed help

MC: Maybe he'll ask nicer next time and you need to stop letting random strangers make you hand out flyers

Xavier: It's hard to say no

MC: If I had a dollar for every time I found you handing out flyers I'd have two dollars...it's not a lot, but it’s insane that it happened twice.

Sylus

You were standing in line for checkout and Sylus sauntered over to you after you sent him back to grab a pair of jeans that you wanted.

Stranger: Uhm excuse me sir the line starts back there

MC: Oh he's with me

Stranger: I'm not talking to you I'm talking to this rude idiot

You look at Sylus who is giving this Karen a bored stare. You look around dramatically before looking up at Sylus in disbelief.

MC: Who is she talking to?

Sylus: Couldn't be us

You look back to the Karen who's red in the face with anger. You step around Sylus so you're face to face with this lady.

MC: Let's use our big girl brains here … if he's with me why would he stand at the back of the line?

Stranger: He cut the li-

You raised your hand to stop her.

MC: Your mouth is moving a lot like a rat shut it please

You finally get called to the next open register and Sylus leans down to whisper in your ear.

Sylus: You're feisty today ... you don't like seeing people be rude to me?

MC: She's lucky I didn't punch her in her jaw

Sylus: So violent, but I'm the cruel one?

#love and deepspace #sylus love and deepspace #sylus #lnds sylus #love and deepspace sylus #lads #lads rafayel #lads xavier #lads zayne #lnds #lnds rafayel #lnds zayne #lnds xavier #lads sylus #zayne love and deepspace #rafayel love and deepspace #xavier love and deepspace #nikaaaaimagine

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screampied · 1 year ago

Note

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE choso x artist!reader in which they're dating for just a few months and reader has a sketchbook full of drawings of him but keeps it a secret fearing he'd think it's weird or something and then one day he finds the sketchbook and is absolutely flustered and think it's so endearing and showers reader with praise for their drawings (it could be a little nsfw by maybe making it so that there are a few sketches of choso shirtless/in bed)

- 🍧

꒰ warnings . . choso x fem!reader, touch starved choso, overstim, praise, cowgirl. mdni. wc: 1.7k

choso knew about your hobby, just not the particular filthy things you’d draw.

he’s been dating you for a few months and you always expressed your love for your hobby, he even let you draw him a few times. he’s always praised you and showered you with various compliments, telling you how talented you were.

yet one day, you end up leaving your sketchbook over his house—he didn’t mean to peek, but you did leave it wide open. coincidentally open to the most revealing pages.

his eyes widen ever so slightly…

scanning the thin lined paper with perplexed eyes, the sketches of him, shirtless, the more he looked through the pages, the more lewd they became. some were even intimate, shirtless and with the cutest yet embarrassing expressions.

his head fills up with fog just imagining you, his pretty artistic girl, sitting down to draw this—draw him.

“…you weren’t supposed to see that.” you suddenly spoke, running a hand down your neck.

choso turns to face you, and he’s so flustered, and maybe even a little hard.

“shit, ‘m s-sorry baby,” he mutters, his ears growing hot from the very sharp tips—as if he’s a deer in headlights from being caught. he closes your sketchbook and has a cute sheepish grin. “i was gonna drop it off to you but then i-”

“it’s okay,” you utter, sitting down beside him. he lets off a cute gasp once you sit right down on his lap — your back pressing against his thin tank top, re-opening your minuscule-like sketchbook. you flip towards the very back, to some of the drawings of him more unclothed, more…nude. “i was gonna tell you. about um these.”

his hard-toned chest was pushed up against you, and he feels all warm once you grab his hand, making him trace a finger across the lines of your drawing. “ever since two days ago, my drawings got kind of.. y’know, dirty.”

two days ago…

when the two of you had sex, choso was a mess. constantly whining in your ear….begging for you to keep praising him, wanting you to tell him that he’s doing a good job at pleasing you. so that’s where those facial expressions came from.

he was so embarrassed, even more-so that you were sitting on his lap. you feel something poke underneath you and you smile to yourself. “you remember too? you were so whiney, choso. it was always on my mind, and whenever i’m away i just drew my imagination.”

“why imagine when we can do the real thing, baby...” he whines — pressing a soft chaste kiss near your neck, cutting off your words.

he grows so needy, just the thought of you drawing him in such provocative dirty ways made him feel things he couldn’t even comprehend. you smile — feeling him snake two hands around your waist, the tips of his fingers ghosting against the thin pink fabric of your shorts. “i missed you. missed touchin' you.”

“did you?” you hum, placing down your pencil before turning your body to face him. he tries to speak but a cute whimper exits his mouth, and he’s already tugging at your shorts.

“yeah yeah,” he sniffles, and he couldn’t wait anymore. his patience ran thin — and not even seconds later, he yanks your shorts off, only to now being exposed in your pretty lace underwear. he starts panting, feeling you teasingly start to grind against his bulge. “…fuck,” he murmurs, running a finger down your slit, watching you quaver as a response. “looks like you missed me too, baby. ‘s wet for me already. nasty g-girl.”

his attempt at dirty talk was so cute — you couldn’t help but kiss the tip of his nose, making him grow even more flustered before you bring down his sweats, eagerly springing out his dick that was just aching to be inside.

it twitched as your hand wrapped around it, and he leans back against the wooden chair — a soft groan leaving his mouth, “could have been.. fuckin’ me the entire time instead of drawing me, baby..”

“stop whining,” you tease, sneaking a wet kiss on his mouth, choso’s pink lips tremble, so needy for more of your taste, he whines again the moment you pull away, you watch him slide his tongue across his lip, savoring your candied lip gloss taste.

you bite down on your lip the second his throbbing cock prods against your leaky hole, he feels all hot. a tad bit dramatic, it’s adorable, the way he looks like he’s about to cum already.

“y-you make me feel things, baby,” he stutters out, ripped and clenching underneath his top. you intake a single rickety breath — before slowly sinking down on his length. “been two days but felt like,” and he pauses to thickly swallow. “two years, f-fuck…”

“you know i drew this too, choso?” you whisper against his ear — softly nibbling on the tender skin and you’re just driving him crazy.

he grips down on your hips, shivering at the way you start to rollick your hips against him. “drew this exact position, baby. of me riding you, making sure to sketch the way your eyes roll back and…”

“t-tell me more.” he whimpers — giving your ass a tight squeeze, his jaw clenches and he feels so warm, thanks to your warmth. you squelched against his again and again, his thigh starts to bounce in retaliation.

you giggle at his needy enthusiasm and sheer curiosity, he’s stuffing thick inches into you that makes your brain spasm for a bit, so good….

“i always make sure to memorize you when i draw you, choso…” you hum, peppering a plethora of kisses up and down his neck, his pointed chin raises a bit and he moans at the sweet soft feelings of your lips making contact with his hot skin.

“memorize every inch of your body, so i can sketch it well,” you continue, and he squeezes more against your hips, he’s the one biting his lip now. his ears continue to burn up to the tips of it, and with the smoothness of your voice — he was sure he’d cum early, there was just no predicting with you. “…sometimes i let my mind run loose a bit, and sketch out the time when you and i are.. well…intimate.”

“baby y-you’re so perverted,” he moans, his eyelids grow heavy and he doesn’t want you to stop, his voice was so sweet — cloying with silk dripping from his tone, just listening to him made you even more soaked. “my…perverted girl,” and he brings you close to him before licking a stripe up your neck. “but ‘s okay…knowing that you draw such things about me makes me like you even m-more.”

you brush a thumb against his lips, staring into his eyes before humming as a response. “yeah?”

“y-yeah,” he whines as a response, nodding fervently. his grip on your waist never lessens, and he’s balls deep — each stroke, each rough smack that thwacks against your pussy makes him so hot and bothered. “wish i could draw you how you draw me, b-but you’re the talented one.”

“i can always teach you,” you purr — teasingly sliding a single finger down his chest. “i can be a model for you too, just for you choso.”

he stares at you, and his expression is so cute, his eyes glimmer and he has a face that basically says, ‘really?’

“w-woman, talkin’ to me like that… ‘s gonna make me cum so hard,” he sighs, his grunts were heavy, chest completely heaving.

something rang throughout his ears with the way you bounced and rocked against him. his head spun and he was so obsessed with watching your body.

the way it jerks against him, taking him fully every time, despite his girth deliberately stretching your pussy out to its fullest.

“i know, i know…..” you coo against his ear, choso’s nearly trembling underneath you he’s lost in a trace with the way you pepper such kisses all over his face — he feels all tingly from your affection, and the way you’re making him feel.

such low wolffish grunts escape his mouth and its sexy, a tiny pussy-drunken smile purses against his lips after you ghost your lips against his. “you gonna be messy and cum for me?”

“…yeah, only if you let me…?” he moans, and his tone forms into a cute question.

digging his fingers into the depths of your waist, your cunt clenches down on his numerous times, you can’t even count how many strokes it’s been. “baby..”

“go ahead,” you mumble sweetly, planting a single kiss near the tip of his nose, just that single gesture alone, he’s so weak.

choso whimpers, chasing his incoming high. teeth clenching in utter desperation and lust, he craves his release so bad. “you can be a little messy.”

“okay, okay….o-okay,” he hiccups, leaning in, pulling you close towards him, he’s nearly sweating and it hasn’t even been that many minutes, he shoots out a sticky load of such thick ropes inside of your pussy.

it makes you moan yourself, wrapping your arms around his neck, softly nibbling on his collarbone. “s-shit, ‘s much comin' out for you, baby…”

choso continues whine — pulling you lightly by the neck, bringing your into a wet deep kiss, and between kisses you hear him mutter out, “love you,” for the first time. his voice was so sweet, shaky and all — you blink twice, wondering if he really said it and he grows flustered immediately once he realized what he said. “w-wait, baby, i mean-”

“i love you too,” you tease — sitting up and pulling his twitching now flaccid dick out of you, he grows quiet at the wet sounds of his own cum seeping out of your cunt, his bottom lip quivers at you being in such control before you grab your sketchbook from the table, pressing a final kiss against his mouth. “do you think i should sketch this too for you to keep? all your cum just spilling out of me?”

“please,” he whines. “draw it now, baby. i’d put that in my wallet for only me to s-see.”

#★vegasbaby.#🍧anon.#jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x you #jjk x reader #choso smut #choso kamo smut #choso x reader #choso x you #jjk fic #anime smut #female reader

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clockwayswrites · 30 days ago

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The Haunting of Danny Fenton, p4

Masterpost late, tired, still emotional and physically fragile. please no editing <3

“—ir? Sir?”

Danny mumbled something incoherent that was supposed to be a response to that, or befuddlement about being called ‘sir’, or at least something better than ‘wadamehaaftz’. The bite of a tightening blood pressure cuff around his arm helped bring him a little be back to the world. He opened his eyes right into too bright light and winced back in reaction.

“Sir? Do you need us to call an ambulance?” the panicked looking barista asked. She was crouched down next to him where he lay on the floor.

Great, now he could never come back to this coffee shop. That was a damn shame, they had really good bagels.

“No,” Danny managed to make his mouth say. “Seizure. Newish thing for me. I’m fine—will be fine. Sorry.”

“Maybe you should stay laying down for a moment longer?” The barista suggested.

Danny hummed. “Don’t want to be a bother.”

“Dude,” someone said off to Danny’s right. He didn’t think it was worth the effort to turn his head and look, “you just had a seizure. You were screaming. Like, I think we’re all okay if you lay there. We can step around you.”

There were murmurers of agreement.

“Okay, yeah, you know what, great,” Danny said and summoned the willpower to lift his hand and give there room a thumbs up. He let it drop listlessly back down onto his chest.

At least the floor was cool against his back. And he did feel a bit better not trying to get up immediately. When he finally pulled himself back up into his chair, the nice barista brought him a glass of ice water with a straw. Danny drank every drop of the first glass and a refill until the paper of the stupid straw started to turn to mush between his lips.

Knowing that he wouldn’t be up for doing much especially that day, Danny got a bagel sandwich to go, left a generous tip, and fled the cafe with his proverbial tail between his legs.

Penny was was at the apartment. She shoved a still warm load of banana bread at Danny as she bitched about her latest failed relationship. Apparently her girlfriend had been hooking up with the bouncer at their favorite bar. Not that Penny would have minded if they had talked through it before hand and Penny was allowed to join every now and again.

Which, fair, the bouncer did have amazing arms.

When Penny’s phone rang, blaring a dated pop song, Danny was able to make his escape with the added load of his two liter water bottle and bag of little oranges. Or not oranges—clementines? Tangelos? Whatever, little oranges.

He set everything down on the end of his bed before flinging himself onto it.

Another seizure. A worse one.

But a clearer vision of the ghost than he’d ever had before.

Groaning, Danny dragged himself to hang over the edge of his bed so he could pull out one of the storage cubes from under it. After a bit of shuffling, he got the one he wanted out from the back: a long ignored stack of art supplies. Danny rummaged around in it for a pencil and eraser before he pulled the sketchbook out from the bottom. He flipped past old game ides and idle doodles to find a blank page and started to work.

There was so much of the ghost that he still couldn’t define, but the more he worked at the sketch of the ghost’s face, the more he started to narrow it down.

Danny stared down at the page.

Overworked eyes stared back.

Feeling frustrated at how close it was, Danny grabbed a blue marker from the page and filled in the eyes carefully. Then, with almost irritated strokes, Danny roughly messed in the strikingly orange hair.

Now his ghost started back.

“Hello there…"

#dp x dc #danny/wally #danny/dick #dick/wally #danny/dick/wally #thodf

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moonchild9350 · 8 months ago

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The Beauty of Happiness

Summary: You and Hyunjin have been best friends since childhood, but you both discover those feelings have changed over the years.

Pairing: nonidol Hyunjin x fab reader

Genre: college friends to lovers (slow burn), fluff, smut-18+ MDNI

Word Count: 9.6k

Warnings: fingering, masturbation, lots of kissing, p in v penetration, creampie (wrap it up, wrap it up), oral sex (f receiving)

Notes: Thank you all! I have been working on this for a while now and thought it would fit perfect as a thank you for 200 followers! I love each and every one of y'all and appreciate each of your kind comments and reblogs. I hope y'all enjoy this fic! This is my longest one yet hehe.

Let me know what you think via comments, reblogs, or drop by my ask box :)

If you'd like to be added to the taglist, let me know! (age must be in bio or pinned to be added)

You met Hyunjin in elementary school, both of you being in the same class. He sat right behind you, pulling your pony tail whenever he could. You would get mad at him, turning around in your chair, giving him your best angry face, to tell him to stop. He would just smirk back at you, before shrugging his shoulders, shoving his hands in his pants pockets. You would huff before turning back around in your seat to pay attention to the teacher. That was one way he would bother you.

Hyunjin loved to seek you out on the playground, saying anything he could to bother you. You usually would ignore him, turning back to your friends to gossip about the latest fashion trends. Hyunjin was frustrated at the lack of attention you would give him, annoyed that everyone paid attention to him but you. He wanted to change that, no one ignored him in his book.

You loved to draw, bringing your beloved sketch book with you to school sometimes, sitting beneath the tree in the front lawn, sketching whatever caught your eye. One day you were focusing on a sketch of a flower that was recently planted, filling in the delicate lines of the petals. Hyunjin popped up next to you, looking over your shoulder at what you were drawing.

“I didn’t know you can draw,” the boy said.

“You didn’t ask,” you replied, not looking up from your sketch. “Why do you care?”

Hyunjin was taken aback at your response. Where was the sweet girl who sat in front of him in class? Who welcomed every new kid who joined the class, no matter who they were?

Shrinking away from you, he responded, “I didn’t mean to upset you….just asked a question.”

He made to leave when you looked up from your drawing, your cheeks flushed red.

“I’m not upset at you,” you said, looking at the boy.

Hyunjin turned around, looking you right in the eyes. “I draw too. It’s my favorite thing to do.”

You were shocked at his words, not thinking that the boy who always annoyed you and sought your attention would share a hobby of yours. You looked down at your sketch book before saying, “well you can bring yours to school to sketch with me next time,” you hesitated before adding on, “if you want.”

Now it was Hyunjin’s turn to blush, before saying, “uhhh…sure…if that’s ok with you.”

You nodded yes before turning back to your sketch. You listened as Hyunjin walked away, not believing he would bring his sketch book to share with you.

However, the next day, while you were at your tree, sketching a bird this time, he plopped down next to you. You looked up startled, watching as he took his sketch book and pencil out of his bag, before opening it and looking around.

“What are you doing?” you asked.

“Sketching duh,” he said while side eyeing you. “You said I could bring mine and sketch with you.”

You just sat there, looking at him. You didn’t think he would actually take you up on the offer. Shaking your head, you went back to your sketch, getting lost in the page as usual. All that could be heard was the occasional scratch of the pencil on the paper or the birds chirping as they flew by. You found it actually relaxing to sketch next to Hyunjin. He didn’t bother you like he usually does, lost in his own sketch. You thought it was nice to have someone here with you.

Your sketch outings became a daily occurrence, both of you sitting in silence, sketching whatever caught your fancy that day. During breaks, you both would talk, discussing your favorite things and sharing completed sketches with each other. You slowly became friends as the weeks, months, and years went by, now meeting up at each others houses to sketch, watch tv, or go on adventures.

You realized he was your best friend, sharing secrets and dreams with him.

****************************************************

That was years ago. Now you both were in your twenties at university. You decided to go to the same university, not wanting to be too far apart from each other.

“I’ve decided I’m going to actually become an art major ,” you told him one day as you were lounging on his bed in his apartment . You had been deciding whether or not to actually go through with the major. Ultimately you decided to go through with it as it was your favorite thing to do and you wanted to display your works in a gallery one day.

Hyunjin, who was sitting at his desk, looked over at you, “you’d be a good painter y/n. I’d say go for it.”

You hummed at his answer, picking up your pencil and paper to go back to sketching.

Hyunjin looked at you a little more before turning back to the essay he was working on. He’d always support your dreams, as long as he could be by your side. He’s not sure when the switch came, his feeling turning from friendship to wanting something more with you. He never voiced this however, scared that you would turn him away and even worse cut off your friendship for good. He was content at concealing his feelings if it meant being by your side.

After a while, you began to pack up your stuff to head back to your dorm. You had a few sketches you needed to finish before the end of the week.

“I’m heading out Hyunjinnie,” you said, “ gotta put the finishing touches on a few of my sketches before class tomorrow.

Hyunjin nodded, “want me to walk you back to your dorm?”

You shook your head no, “I’ll be fine. I’ll let you know when I make it back.”

Hyunjin looked at you and nodded ok. “Alright. Good night, y/n. Make sure to get some sleep yeah?”

“Of course! Don’t worry about me,” you chuckled with a toss of your arm. Hyunjin was a total gentleman. He always made sure you got to your destinations safely, opened doors for you, and treated you so well. Your cheeks would always flush with heat whenever he did these things, making sure you were well cared for.

You gave one final wave before walking out the door, shutting it carefully behind you. You exited his apartment building, feeling the cool, crisp air hit your face, autumn rolling around the corner. You bundled yourself in your jacket a little more and walked towards your dorm. It wasn’t far, just right across the quad from Hyunjin’s apartment.

Fobbing yourself into your dorm, you made your way to your room. You set your bag down by your desk, dropping your keys on the hook you kept by the door. You picked up your shower caddy, needing a warm shower before getting to work. Turning on the hot water, you stepped in, letting the water drip down your body. Your mind couldn’t help but think of Hyunjin, a common occurrence while in the shower.

You thought he was cute and he was such a great guy. You knew he could take care of you and your heart, but you didn’t know if he felt the same way about you. You drifted your hands down your body, leaving feather light touches on your hot skin, causing in contrast a shiver to run down your spine. You repeated this a couple times, imagining it was Hyunjin’s hands instead. You let out a sigh as you pinched your nipple, causing it to pebble. Caressing your breast, you let your fingers wander further down, running your fingers through your folds. You slid them through a few times before pressing them at your entrance gathering slick that was already pooling out of your pussy. Bringing your slick covered fingers to your clit, you gave gentle rubs to the bud, pressing hard every few strokes.

You wished Hyunjin was here, circling your puffy clit with his fingers, whispering sweet nothings in your ear. You knew he would take care of you, make sure you reach your high in his hold. You brought yourself close to your orgasm, rubbing faster on your bundle of nerves, giving your nipple a pinch every now and then. You imagined Hyunjin’s lips on your neck, leaving sweet kisses as you came, rocking your hips along your fingers, riding out your high. Letting out one more shaky breath, you straightened up, shaking your head. These were dangerous thoughts, thoughts you knew would never come true. You finished your shower, wrapping yourself in your fluffy towel before making it back to your room.

Once inside, you checked your phone, noticing a notification from Hyunjin.

Ferret Boy 🦙 Did you make it back? (10:30pm) Hello? (10:35pm) Y/n…I’m getting worried here (11:00pm)

“Shit,” you said under your breath. You had forgotten to let Hyunjin know you made it back safely. Opening the chat box you replied:

Ferret Boy 🦙 Sorry Hyun. I made it back. Just got out of the shower. Please forgive me :)

You hit send and almost immediately got a response back.

Ferret Boy 🦙 Thank god y/n. I’ll think about it lol Don’t stay up too late angel.

You loved it when he called you angel. Blushing you responded:

Ferret Boy 🦙 Wouldn’t dream of it. Night Hyunjinnie <3

You set your phone down on your bed before drying yourself off. You picked out one of your oversized t-shirts and sleep shorts to put on. Tying your hair up in a messy bun, you made your way to your desk, where your sketches were that you were working on. Taking a seat, you picked up your phone once more, opening up your playlist before selecting your favorite music to sketch to. Setting your phone down, you picked up your pencil and started sketching, the soft notes of Bon Iver’s Holocene drifted throughout the room.

You relaxed into your task, focused on finishing up your last two pieces for the assignment. You were to sketch four pieces, the theme being things and or people you love. You decided to sketch a coffee cup filled with your favorite drink, a field of flowers Hyunjin took you to one time, your childhood cat, and last but not least Hyunjin. Once turned in, the top three students who score the highest will get to go on and present their pieces at the end of year showcase. You really wanted to be one of those who scored the highest as you heard that personal from the local galleries sometimes attended the showcase, scouting for the next big artist.

You were currently working on your favorite piece, one of Hyunjin. You were shading in some around his eyes trying to reflect the beauty and perfection you see in him everyday. Humming along to the song playing, you made your finishing touches. Setting your pencil down, you lifted the sketch up to look it over. Satisfied with your work, you set it aside with the other two completed pieces befre picking up the fourth piece.

It was a sketch of a flower, a white Lilly to be exact. You picked this flower for your assignment as it represented beauty and purity, something you thought fit Hyunjin well. The purity being your friendship, and how good natured it is, and of course beauty as Hyunjin was beyond beautiful. All four of your sketches revolved around Hyunjin, each representing a different aspect of your relationship.

Some people may think it’s a little much, to base your whole assignment off one person, but you saw no problem with it. You wanted to express how you saw your best friend for anyone that would look and hopefully Hyunjin himself will get to see them too.

You glanced at the clock, noting it was 2:30am. Sighing you finished your last sketch before standing up and stretching. Carefully picking up your four pieces, you carefully placed them in your portfolio, ready to be turned in tomorrow. You cleaned up your space a little before turning off the lights and sliding under the covers. Closing your eyes, you began to drift away, dreaming of sunny days far away with your best friend.

****************************************************

Your alarm was going off. Groaning, you reached over to your phone to press the snooze button, before snuggling deeper into your blankets. You laid there for a while before you felt yourself drifting off again. That is until your phone went off again, this time signaling you had a phone call coming through. Groaning yet again, you picked up your phone, noting the time of 6am before accepting the call.

Hyunjin’s voice echoed from the other end of the call, “Y/n, angel, wake up. Let’s go grab some breakfast before first period.”

You rubbed your face, attempting to wake up, before grumbling, “Hyun, it’s so early. Can’t we skip breakfast today?”

“Nah uh angel. You need food so you can get through your day. What time did you go to bed anyway?”

“It was almost 3am,” you responded, sitting up in bed. “I wouldn’t hate getting in a couple more hours of sleep.”

You listened to Hyunjin hum before saying, “I know y/n, but how about I buy you whatever you want. We’ll go to your favorite place.”

At that, you perked up a little. “Really?”

“Really,” Hyunjin chuckled.

“Ok, ok, you convinced me. Give me 10,” you replied.

“Perfect, I’ll meet you at your dorm ok?”

“Sounds good Hyunjinnie,” you said before hanging up.

Letting out a sigh and stretching your arms over your head, you got out of bed to get ready. Pulling on a black t-shirt, flannel, and jeans, you walked over to your mirror to do your hair and put on some eyeliner and mascara. Nodding your head at your appearance, you gathered up your books and tossed them in your bag. Slinging the bag over your shoulders, you leaned down to pick up your portfolio before walking out the door.

Hyunjin was waiting for you outside the dorm as promised, looking beautiful as always. He smiled at you when he spotted you walking down the steps.

“Morning sleepy head,” he chuckled before walking toward your destination.

“Morning,” you replied, yawning in the process.

“Did you finish everything you needed to?”

“I did. I think everything looks great. I hope it gets to go on to the showcase.”

“Of course it will angel, no doubt about it.” Hyunjin turned his head to smile at you.

You felt your heart skip a beat at his smile. Looking ahead, you saw the little cafe, your favorite one. The atmosphere was calm and not to mention their food and coffee were to die for. Hyunjin opened the door for you, you slipping through before he walked in after you. The smell of fresh brewed coffee and pastries hit your nose. You inhaled deeply, loving the scent of hope for the day.

“What do you want? Your usual?” Hyunjin asked.

“Yes please,” you responded. “I’ll get us a table while you order.”

Hyunjin nodded before walking away to the counter. You picked a table by the window, that way you could feel the warmth of the rising sun on your skin. You were browsing through your phone when Hyunjin came back, setting your coffees and pastries on the table. You reached for your iced americano and pumpkin loaf with a smile on your face, thanking Hyunjin. He nodded and grabbed his.

“So, what are your sketches about? You never did tell me.”

You took a sip of your coffee before looking Hyunjin in the eyes, the sun reflecting off the big, brown orbs.

“Not telling,” you said. “Want it to be a surprise, especially if it goes onto the showcase.”

Hyunjin pouted at you. “Aww come on angel, not even a little hint?” He pleaded.

“Nope, sorry,” you smirked back at him.

Hyunjin sighed. “Well ok, if you insist.”

You watched as he brushed his hand through his long hair. How can someone be so perfect and beautiful you thought. You ate in silence for a little, thinking of your classes for the day, not really looking forward to any of them. Well, you were looking forward to advanced art. Brushing the crumbs off your hands, you looked at the time.

“Shit, it’s already 7:30. I gotta go, don’t want to be late dropping my portfolio off.”

Hyunjin nodded, “ok, leave your trash, I’ll take care of it. Text me when you have a break, k?”

You nodded your head, gathering your bag and portfolio and walked out the door. Breathing in the crisp, morning air, you walked toward the art building, it being on the other side of campus. You didn’t mind the walk however, as it was a beautiful campus, trees and flowers everywhere.

Once arriving at the building, you opened the door, the chilly air-conditioning blowing in your face in contrast to the warm sun outside. You made your way to the classroom, plopping down in your seat. The professor walked in then, asking everyone to bring their portfolios up to the front of the class. She announced that the students chosen for the showcase would be notified by the end of the week.

You dropped yours off as directed, before sitting back down in your seat, getting out your sketch book. The rest of the class was spent drawing a still life portrait, your other favorite theme to draw…besides Hyunjin. At the close of class, you texted Hyunjin asking where he was. Your phone pinged:

Ferret Boy 🦙 I’m back at my apartment. Wanna come over

You responded yes and that you were on your way. You walked across campus to Hyunjin’s place, letting yourself in as Hyunjin had left the door unlocked for you.

“Hey angel,” Hyunjin greeted you from the couch. He had some shitty reality tv show on, the drama king himself immersed in the show. You kicked off your shoes, making your way over to the couch before plopping down next to Hyunjin with a sigh. You leaned against the pillow on the couch, draping your feet across Hyunjin’s lap.

“Why do you watch this crap?” you inquired as you watched the drama unfold on screen.

“It’s mindless. Plus the fights are entertaining.” Hyunjin replied.

“It’s entertaining because you’re mister drama king yourself,” you said laughing.

Hyunjin stuck his tongue out at you before giving you a smile, turning his head back to the tv. You pulled out your phone, scrolling through social media, as you got comfortable. You felt cozy, the tv in the background, Hyunjin’s warm body next to you. Before you knew it, your eyes began to close, feeling the effects of your late night. You dreamed of Hyunin and his gentleness, that he was yours as you were his.

****************************************************

You opened your eyes, finding yourself curled up in a ball, wrapped in a blanket. You turned your head, seeing Hyunjin sitting next to you, sketchbook in hand. You silently watched him for a while, watching his hand glide across the paper. Eventually Hyunjin noticed you were awake, looking at you still curled up in your ball.

“Welcome back,” Hyunjin chuckled.

You groaned and stretched out, feeling your joints crack with the motion. Pulling the blanket to your face, you snuggled in once more before asking, “I’m hungry, you should feed me.”

Hyunjin laughed, “of course, gotta feed angel or she’ll tear me apart.”

You nodded your head at his statement, knowing you truly were a terror when you were hungry. Hyunjin closed his sketchbook, setting it down on the table before grabbing his phone.

“What do you want to eat?” Hyunjin asked, pulling up the delivery app.

You thought for a minute before saying, “pizza!”

Hyunjin chuckled. “You and your cheese fixation.”

You shrugged your shoulders, not ashamed at all. Who doesn’t like cheese? While you both waited on the pizza, Hyunjin chatted about his art class and their current project. “We’re working on oil paintings. I’m really liking this unit. I think it’s my favorite medium to use so far.”

You listened to Hyunjin, in awe of him taking about his passion. Watching as his eyes lit up when discussing the topic of his paintings to the little uptick of his lips as he ranted about how he ran out of a paint, having to stop for the day instead of finishing the painting as planned. As Hyunjin was starting to discuss the next unit they would move onto in a few weeks, the doorbell rang, signaling the pizza was here. You jumped up, running to the door, scaring the delivery man in the process at your sudden appearance. You grabbed the pizza, thanking the man, before closing the door and making your way back to the couch.

You sat down and opened the box, grabbing a slice and taking a bite. You let out a moan at the taste, closing your eyes as you chewed.

“Is it everything you could have dreamed off?” Hyunjin teased, shaking his head at your dramatics.

You nodded your head before taking another bite. You both finished eating in silence, the pizza being too good. After Hyunjin finished his last bite, he turned to you. “Are you staying the night?”

You licked your fingers, licking the sauce off before looking at the time on your phone. Noting it was almost 11pm, you shook your head yes. “If you don’t mind.”

“Of course I don’t mind angel. We can cuddle!” He said, giving you a smile.

You both cleaned up the mess before walking to Hyunjin’s room. You sat down on his bed, watching as he rummaged through his drawers. Straightening up, he turned to you and handed you one of his shirts. You took the clothing, making your way to his bathroom to change. You put your hair up and then walked out of the bathroom, pulling the covers back and sliding in. Hyunjin had already changed while you were in the bathroom. He turned off the light and then slid under the covers, sliding in next to you.

“Come here angel,” he said, cradling you into his chest.

You cuddled with Hyunjin all the time, this wasn’t a new occurrence. But that didn’t stop your heart from beating wildly, as you tucked your head into his chest. You eventually were at ease and started to drift off, the feeling of Hyunjin stroking your hair lulling you to sleep.

****************************************************

The next morning, you opened your eyes to the blinding sun. Your back was to Hyunjin, his arms wrapped around your waist and his head tucked into your neck. You sighed at the feeling, wishing you could wake up like this every morning. You looked at the time, and let out a low groan. You had to make your way back to your dorm, as you had class in a few hours.

You pushed back the covers, feeling Hyunjin stir behind you. You got up, finding your clothes from yesterday, and going into the bathroom. You slipped on your clothes, tossing Hyunjin’s shirt in the hamper before exiting the bathroom. Hyunjin was sitting up in bed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“Morning angel,” he said in a raspy voice. “Leaving?”

“Yeah, I have class in a few hours and I wanna go back to my dorm and shower.”

Hyunjin nodded, getting out of bed to walk you out. Right before you opened the door, he pulled you in for a hug, burying his face in your hair. You were shocked at first, but eventually wrapped your arms around his waist, breathing in his scent. You both stood there in front of his front door, silence filling the room. So much was said in that hug, neither of you wanting to pull away.

But, all good things must come to an end. Hyunjin pulled away, giving you a smile. “Text me when you get back, yeah?”

“Of course Hyun,” you replied as you put your shoes on. You opened the door, and made your way to your dorm.

****************************************************

The rest of the week passed uneventful, your days filled with class and Hyunjin. The day of the announcement of who would go onto the showcase was today, your nerves getting the better of you. You were at Hyunjin’s apartment, sitting once more on his couch.

You were a nervous wreck, your leg was bouncing up and down, a finger in your mouth as you bit at the nail. Every now and then you let out a sigh, checking the time for the hundredth time. Hyunjin watched you, observing how you appeared to become anxious as time went on, wishing he could do something about it. He reached out to you and placed his hand on your leg, giving it a squeeze.

“Hey, whatever happens, it’ll be ok.” Hyunjin sought out your eyes, finally making direct eye contact. You let out the breath you were holding, nodding your head once before turning back to your computer screen.

It was time. You pulled up the class page, eyes darting immediately to the announcement portion of the page. You held your breath as you read a brief statement from the professor, thanking everyone for their hard work and dedication. You kept reading, until the end, eyes frozen on the screen once you got to the name of the person chosen. You sat like that for a moment, eyes trained on the screen in disbelief..

“Well? Did you get it? Are you going to the showcase?” Hyunjin asked, searching your face for any hint.

You turned your head to look at him, your eyes finding his. “I did it.” You slowly said. “I’m going to the showcase.”

You both stared at each other, before a big smile spread on Hyunjin’s face. You couldn’t help but smile back, wrapping your arms around him in a big hug.

“I knew you would get it angel,” Hyunjin said, squeezing you tighter.

You buried your head in his neck, letting out the breath you had been holding. You did it. You fucking did it. You were in disbelief, still wrapping your head around the fact that you made it. Your sketches were going to be shown to thousands of people, and if you’re lucky, maybe even be displayed in the local gallery.

You pulled back, your hands still wrapped around Hyunjin. He looked down at you, eyes flickering to your lips before darting back to your eyes. You almost missed the movement, but it was there. You sat still , not knowing what to do, frozen in your spot. You removed your arms from around Hyunjin, leaning back to put distance between you two.

Clearing your throat, you asked, “Would you like to be my plus one?”

“Of course angel. You know I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Hyunjin replied, reaching over to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

You looked into his eyes once more, watching as he gave you a smile. He dropped his hand from your face, his fingers brushing down your cheek in the process. You briefly closed your eyes at the feeling, before opening them and shutting your lap top.

“So what’s next?” Hyunjin asked.

“Well, I’ll be transferring my sketches onto canvas. I think I’ll stick to an acrylic medium. It’s what I know best.” You let out a sigh, “I’m going to be pretty busy this week. Th deadline to get the paintings in is in one week.”

Hyunjin nodded, “well I’m here to help if you need it…even if it’s just for company.”

“Thanks Hyun. I guess I need to make sure I have everything I need. Wanna go to the store with me?”

“Of course! Let’s go angel. We’ll get food while we’re out too.”

“Great, cause I’m starving now that that’s over.” Hyunjin chuckled at you, getting up from the couch to walk to the door. You grab your bag and followed him, both of you putting on your shoes to leave.

****************************************************

Later that night, you were back at your dorm, Hyunjin dropping you off after your store run and dinner. You took a shower, deciding to get started on your paintings after. You put on lofi in the background and got to work organizing your space. You decided to start on the coffee cup sketch, wishing you actually had a cup now. It didn’t take you long to zone in, focused on your painting, humming to the tunes playing softly in the background.

You felt at peace, the stroke of the brush on the canvas soothing you, as all of your worries and thoughts left your mind.

Reaching a stopping point, you looked up at your clock. It was already 3am. Cursing under your breath, you put your brush down, stretching out your arms. Deciding to call it a night, you cleaned your brushes, placing them back in the cup you kept on your desk. Grabbing your phone, you crawled into bed. Snuggling into the blankets, you found yourself drifting off.

The rest of the week went by quickly, your nights spent working on your paintings for the showcase. The day of honor was getting closer, along with your deadline to turn in said paintings. Hyunjin spent some evenings with you, watching you paint or doing some sketching of his own. You always made sure he couldn’t see your drawings, wanting it to be a surprise for the night of the showcase. He didn’t mind, knowing he would get to see them soon enough.

You appreciated Hyunjin’s company, as some nights you felt stressed, freaking out about the deadline and worrying about how people would react to your work. Each time you doubted yourself, Hyunjin was there to make sure to squash that doubt. Deep down you knew everything would be ok, but on the surface, every worry was brought to attention.

The night before the due date, you and Hyunjin sat in your room once more, your playlist on in the background, Hyunjin lounging on your bed. He was humming along to the song that was playing, as you put the finishing touches to your last painting. Setting your brush down, you leaned back to look at the finished product, smiling as you saw your recreation of Hyunjin on the canvas. You could never capture his beauty completely, but you damned near tried.

“Done?” Hyunjin asked, looking up at you.

“Mmhmm, I think so.” You sat back and massaged your temples, happy to be done.

Hyunjin grinned, opening up his arms beckoning you to come cuddle with him. You stood up, and slid under the blankets, snuggling into Hyunjin and letting out a sigh. You both laid there in silence, enjoying each other’s company. You listened to Hyunjin’s heart, the rhythmic sound soothing you. You didn’t realize how tired you were, your eyes starting to droop. You thought you heard Hyunjin say something, but you were on the verge of dreamland, not caring what was going on around you.

Hyunjin noticed you falling asleep, a smile on his face as he tucked you in. He settled next to you, his body facing yours. You looked so beautiful and peaceful, your features softening as you fell into a deeper sleep. He loved seeing you like this, the softness of your eyes, gently fluttering as you dreamed hopefully of nice things. He loved watching your soft lips part, your breathing slowing down with each passing moment. He loved you, everything about you, and he hoped to tell you so one day. With a smile gracing his face, he closed his eyes, hoping to dream of you.

****************************************************

The next day, you got up early, earlier than you normally would at least, so you could gather your paintings and bag. You had to turn them in today, so the professor could pass them on to the event coordinator for the showcase. You heard Hyunjin wake, sitting up in bed to watch you move around your room.

“Morning angel,” he said yawning, running a hand through his hair.

You mumbled out a morning, grabbing your clothes to put on for the day. You quickly brushed your hair into a pony tail, forgoing makeup.

“I’m leaving Hyun. Stay as long as you want, but I have to get these over to the building.”

Hyunjin nodded, laying back down on your pillows. “I’ll be here angel.”

You grabbed your bag and paintings and headed out the door. You made your way across campus, a little urgency in your step. Arriving at the building, you made your way to the classroom, dodging other students in the hallway so you wouldn’t drop anything.

Once you entered the classroom, you walked up to the professor, setting your paintings down carefully on her desk.

“Ahh thank you y/n. Congratulations on being selected. Your sketches were very good. I can see you’ve worked hard to transfer them as paintings.”

“Thank you,” you responded, a shy smile spreading on your face. “Will they be dropped off today? To the coordinators?”

“Yes, they will be. They’ll keep them safe and will hang them up in time for the showcase.”

You nodded, thanked her once again before walking back out of the classroom. You made your way back to your dorm, opting to stop and grab some coffee and snacks for you and Hyunjin.

Opening up your door, you were met with the sight of Hyunjin sprawled out on your bed, softly snoring. You chuckled, setting the coffees and snacks on your desk, opting to sit on your chair. You ate your pastry while looking through your phone, trying to keep quiet as your best friend continued to sleep.

You felt like you could breathe now, if only for a moment. Your next hurdle would be the showcase this weekend. You decided to go for a walk to help clear your mind. Grabbing your shoes, you made your way outside, breathing in the fresh air. You slowly made your way around campus, enjoying the scenery. The trees were starting to turn colors, the leaves a beautiful shades of red and orange. You smiled as squirrels dashed across the sidewalk in front of you, making their way to the next tree. The warm sun was beating down on your skin, warming you through and through. You were happy you went on this walk, your mind clearer than it had been thirty minutes ago.

Checking the time, you decided to walk back to your dorm, as Hyunjin would probably be up now. Opening your door, you saw him perched on your bed, nibbling on the food and coffee you brought back with you earlier.

“Hey, just getting back?”

“Nah, went for a walk to clear my head.”

“Ah, angel what’s wrong?”

“Just nervous about this weekend. What if nobody likes my work? What if me winning was a mistake?” You paced the floor, slowly becoming anxious again.

“Y/ninnie, everyone will love your work, I’m more than sure about that.” Hyunjin softly replied. He frowned seeing how distressed you were. “Come here angel.”

You slowly made your way to your bed, crawling over and into Hyunjin’s arms. You nuzzled your head into his chest, breathing in his scent. He slowly brushed his hands up and down your back, trying to soothe you.

You didn’t pull away, your head resting in the crook of his neck as he laid you two down to cuddle. Your lips brushed against his skin as you let out a sigh, your body slowly relaxing in his hold. You felt Hyunjin kiss the top of your head. You lifted your head up to look him in the eyes. Hyunjin gazed at you, his brown orbs soft and gentle, radiating his fondness for you.

Hyunjin brought his head down to yours, as he gently brushed his lips to yours. Your body tensed at the sudden intrusion, but as he continued to press kiss after kiss to your lips, you relaxed, returning his feather soft kisses. Hyunjin rested his forehead against yours, as you tightened your hold on him.

With a deep breath Hyunjin whispered, “I like you y/n. I have for a while. I just haven’t said anything because I didn’t want to ruin our friendship. I like you so so much angel.”

You laid there in silence, letting Hyunjin’s words sink in. Hyunjin liked you. He actually liked you more than a friend. Your mind was spinning at his confession. You could tell he was starting to get antsy and probably worried at your silence, as minutes passed without you saying anything.

“Hyunjinnie I like you too. I really do.” You replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

Hyunjin smiled, stroking your face, and hugging you closer. He slotted his lips with yours once more, breathing out a sigh of relief. Your mouths moved in tandem, neither one of you in a hurry, your hands exploring each other’s bodies. You felt Hyunjin’s hands slide under your shirt, his hands sliding up and down your side before reaching your breasts. He gave them a light squeeze, brushing his fingers softly across your nipple, a low moan leaving your lips.

Hyunjin repeated the motion, again and again, in no hurry to move on. You felt yourself getting hot, your arousal leaking into your panties. You instinctively rolled your hips against his, catching Hyunjin by surprise.

“Angel, maybe we should stop,” Hyunjin said.

You let out a sigh. You really didn’t want to, but you understood why you had to. You nodded your head in agreement, a slight pout on your face. Hyunjin pressed a kiss on your forehead before untangling himself from you and sitting up.

“So, even though I said we should stop, we probably should talk about what this is.” Hyunjin said.

“Ok, I think we should too.”

“Y/n, like I said earlier, I’ve liked you for a while. Would you believe me if I said I’ve kinda had a crush on you since elementary school?” Hyunjin chuckled.

You stared at him in shock. You couldn’t believe it. All this time your childhood liked you the same as you liked him. You guys could have been together instead of wasting all this time.

“Wow, I never would have thought Hyun. I like you too. Does this make us more than friends?” You asked hopefully.

Hyunjin looked at you, “if you’ll have me angel.”

You smiled at him, genuine happiness reaching your eyes. You sat up and pressed a quick kiss on Hyunjin’s lips. “Then I guess you’re mine.”

Hyunjin grinned at your statement. “My beautiful girl.”

You blushed at his words. You watched as he got up out of bed, reaching his hand down for you to take.

“Let’s grab some food my love.”

You nodded yes and smiled, placing your hand in his as he pulled you up. You were over the moon. Seems like your weekend was starting off swell.

**************************************************** You spent the day with Hyunjin, in which it was filled with absolute bliss. Knowing he liked you back was like a breath of fresh air. You were over the moon, giddy, and ecstatic that you could call him yours. After all you had been waiting for this moment for years. You really hoped your luck would hold out until for the showcase too.

Hyunjin walked you back to your dorm that night, promising to pick you up the next day to walk you over to the building where the showcase would be held. Once he brought you to the door, he lifted your chin with his fingers, bringing his lips to yours. You felt time slip away, focusing only on the feel of his lips on yours. You would never get tired of the feeling.

Hyunjin pulled back, “good night angel. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Night Hyun. Thank you for today.”

“Of course, anything for my girl,” Hyunjin said. “Now go to bed angel, you have a big day tomorrow.”

He watched as you made your way to the door, making sure you made it inside. You truly did have a big day tomorrow and the ideas of going to bed earlier than you normally do sounded appealing. You changed into your sleep clothes and turned out the lights. Your dreams were filled with Hyunjin once more, but this time they were a little different, your relationship having progressed.

***************************************************

Today’s the day. The day of the showcase. You woke up, blinking away your dreams, before letting out a sigh and stretching your legs. You checked your phone, clearing out notifications from overnight, before getting up. You decided to take a long shower, pulling out all the stops for the day. You wanted to look in tip top shape. You used your best shampoo, the floral scent permeating the bathroom. You let out a sigh, the warm water easing the tension from your body, your anxiety picking up again. You finished up, before stepping out and wrapping your fluffiest towel around your body.

Once back in your room, you put on your playlist before attempting your hair and makeup. You hummed along to the song, applying a little highlighter. You were almost done when you heard your phone buzz. Putting your makeup brush down, you checked your phone:

Ferret Boy 🦙 Hey angel, ready for today

Sighing you turned down the music so you could think, your brain only being able to focus on one thing at a time at the moment.

Ferret Boy 🦙 I’m getting there Hyun. I’m nervous tbh.

A few moments passed before your phone pinged again.

Ferret Boy 🦙 Oh angel, I’m on my way ok?

You let out a breath. What would you do without this man.

Ferret Boy🦙 Thank you hyun♡ I’ll be waiting.

You set your phone down again, turning your playlist back on. You were almost done with your makeup, putting on the finishing touches when you heard a knock at your door. You got up to let Hyunjin in, opening the door to see him standing there with coffees in his hand.

“Hey angel, got you a little something.”

“You’re the best Hyun,” you said taking your coffee from his hand.

Hyunjin stepped into your room and closed the door. “Forgetting something aren’t you?”

You turned back to face him, a smile on your face. “Hmmm not sure, maybe so.”

Hyunjin chuckled before closing the distance between you two and wrapping his arms around your waist. He brought his head down for a kiss, gripping your waist tighter.

“Ok angel,” he said pulling back, “let me see what you’re going to wear for the showcase.”

You were taken aback by the change in topic. Shaking your head, you walked to your closet, pulling out an outfit you put together earlier in the week. You decided on some jeans and a black top, keeping it simple and neat. You started to untie your towel to change.

“Close your eyes Hyun.”

Hyunjin obliged immediately, not wanting to cross any boundaries and make you uncomfortable. You quickly changed into your outfit, letting Hyunjin know when you were done. Hyunjin opened his eyes, his gaze falling on you. You could make anything look beautiful and this was no exception.

“You look beautiful angel. So so beautiful.”

You blushed at Hyunjin’s comments, your eyes falling to the ground. “Thanks,” you mumbled.

You walked over to your desk, plugging in your hair dryer and curling wand. You slowly did your hair, making sure every strand was styled correctly, talking with Hyunjin the whole time. You were glad he was here, his company causing you to feel calmer.

“All done,” you said, turning your curling wand off and setting it down. You looked in the mirror for any stray hairs that wasn’t styled, but was satisfied with your look. “How do you I look?” You asked, standing up and giving a twirl so Hyunjin could see every aspect of your outfit.

“Absolutely stunning angel. I think it’s perfect for the showcase. Of course though you look good in anything.”

“Thanks Hyun.” You took a deep breath and let it out. “I guess this is it. I’m ready.”

Hyunjin nodded, standing up and making his way to you. He grabbed your hand and then you both walked to the door and started to make your way to the event of the hour. The whole way, Hyunjin held your hand, giving it a squeeze every now and then. You appreciated his presence, excited but nervous for him to see your work. You arrived at the building, pausing at the door.

“Well I guess I better go in,” you said, letting out a shaky breath.

“You’re going to do great angel. I’ll be there cheering you on the whole time okay? Can’t wait to see your paintings.” Hyunjin said with a smile on his face. He brought your hand to his lips, pressing a kiss on your knuckles.

You smiled back before letting go of his hand and walked into the building. You made your way to your professor.

“Ah y/n! You made it! Your section is over there. You can go wait in that area. The doors should open shortly.”

You nodded, thanking her before making your way to the spot she pointed out. As you rounded the corner, you spotted your paintings, the canvases lined up next to each other, the overhead light shining on your works perfectly. You took a moment to look at them, happy with how they turned out. You could do this.

**************************************************** Shortly after, you heard the rustle of people moving about, the doors officially opened. The hall was filled with soft murmurs and laughter as people walked from exhibit to exhibit discussing the works on the wall. You took a breath in and let it out, prepared to engage with those around you.

Group after group passed by, stopping to look at your paintings, murmurs of praise floating through the room. You answered the occasional question, explaining your inspiration for the works. People smiled at you, and rained comments onto you. You could feel your face heat up at the praise, you graciously accepting their praise and comments.

You’re sure a few hours have passed, before a lady who looked important walked up to you.

“Y/n?” The lady asked.

“Yes, that’s me,” you replied, a soft smile gracing your face.

“My name is Iseul. I’m the manager of Expressions Art Gallery. I’m impressed with your work. It shows such emotion and the attention to detail is beautiful. We would love to display your paintings at our gallery. Is this something you would consider?”

Your eyes widened in shock as you held your breath. Letting it out, you smiled, “I’d be honored. Yes, I’d love to display my work with your gallery!” You were over the moon.

“Great, we will be in touch over the next few days. Congratulations once again y/n.”

You watched as she walked away, in shock at what just transpired. You were excited, to say the least, your dream coming true. You looked around, spotting Hyunjin making his way to you, a huge smile on your face.

“Hey angel. Wow, look at these,” Hyunjin murmured, his eyes glued to your paintings.

You watched his eyes wonder from one painting to the next, studying the detail you put into the work. When he came to the painting of him, he gasped, before turning to you.

“Is that me, angel?”

You nodded your head. “It is. You make me happy so I thought it fitting to paint you Hyun. All of the places and items up here revolve around our years of friendship. After all, I’ve felt happy all these years because of you.” You looked down, embarrassed at your confession, worried Hyunjin would find it weird.

“Angel, this is beautiful. I love that you included our story in your work.” Hyunjin turned to you and grabbed your hands, bringing them to his lips.

He smiled at you, kissing your hands before bringing them back down to your side. The moment felt perfect, Hyunjin approved of your paintings, he was here with you. People moved around you, their voices fading away as you focused on the man in front of you. Hyunjin gazed into your eyes before whispering “y/n.”

You were brought out of your reverie after someone accidentally bumped into you, apologizing as they moved on. You cleared your throat at the disturbance and looked once more at Hyunjin. He stayed by your side the rest of the night, standing aside when you spoke with others about your work and moving back to your side once you were done.

**************************************************** The night ended successfully, the last groups making their way to the exit. You let out a breath, ecstatic that tonight was successful. You turned to Hyunjin, “ready to go?”

“Of course angel. Wanna come back to my place?”

You nodded yes, grabbing his hand, as you walked toward the exit. Once you both were outdoors, you took in a deep breath, breathing in the fresh night air. The stars were out and the moon bright, illuminating your path back to Hyunjin’s apartment.

“Soooo, guess what Hyun?”

“Hmmm?” Hyunjin inquired.

“I met the manager with Expressions. They want to display my work at their gallery!”

“Angel that’s amazing! Congratulations! I knew it would work out,” Hyunjin replied squeezing your hand.

You were grinning from ear to ear, thinking the night couldn’t be anymore perfect. You both walked up the steps of Hyunjin’s apartment building, making your way to his place. Once inside, you plopped down on his couch, a sigh of relief leaving your mouth. Hyunjin sat down next to you, pulling you into his arms. You rested your head on his chest, Hyunjin grabbing the remote to turn it on to the shitty reality shows he likes to watch.

You both sat in silence, feeling comfortable in each other’s embrace. The day was exhausting so to say. You started to drift off, snuggling deeper into Hyunjin. Hyunjin looked down, watching you try to fight off sleep.

“Come on angel, let’s go to bed.”

Hyunjin turned the tv off before scooping you up in his arms and bringing you to his room. He sat you down gently on his bed, walking to his dresser to pull out one of his shirts. He handed it to you, walking to the bathroom to let you get changed. You shucked off your jeans and shirt and slipped his on, before settling back into bed. Hyunjin joined you a little later, leaving on the LED lights on his ceiling to cause a soft blue glow around the room.

He pulled you closer, pressing a kiss to your head before pressing a kiss to your jaw. You tilted your head, allowing him more access to your neck, allowing him to press wet kisses down your neck. He found your pulse point, lightly sucking on the skin, nipping at the area every now and then. You threaded your hands through his hair, soft moans falling from your lips.

Hyunjin pulled back, looking down at you. “So beautiful angel. My beautiful girl. Can I have you?” He whispered.

You nodded your consent, giving him a smile. Hyunjin smiled back before leaning down to press his lips against yours. He kissed you soft and sweet, his lips gently moving with yours, letting out low moans, as he squeezed you tighter to him. You could feel him filling out in his shorts, your slick pouring out into your panties. You rolled your hips against his, letting out a gasp at the feeling of his hard cock brushing against your clothed core. Hyunjin took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue tangling with yours. You let out a breathy moan, tightening your hold on him.

Hyunjin kissed lower and lower, pressing sweet kisses on your collarbone, his hands reaching under and up your shirt, rubbing your sides. He grasped the edges of your shirt, and started to lift it up and over your head. You laid back down after being freed from your shirt, your chest on display to the man above you.

“Absolutely beautiful, a work of art,” Hyunjin murmured, bringing his hands up to grasp your breasts. He massaged the flesh before leaning down to take a nipple in his mouth. You moaned at the feeling, as he sucked on your nipple, before giving the other nipple the same attention.

“Love your tits angel,” Hyunjin said before making his way further down, licking and kissing down your tummy. He placed a kiss at the top of your panties, his hands reaching to pull them down. He tossed them somewhere in the room, before looking down at you, laid bare before him. He gazed lovingly at your body, mesmerized by your curves.

He proceeded to lean back down, pressing kisses down your pelvis and thighs. You squirmed at the touch of his lips, wanting them elsewhere. Hyunjin continued to worship your body and press kisses on your thighs, nipping at your skin before he pressed a chaste kiss against your clit. You gasped at the feeling, before letting out a moan as he licked a stripe from your entrance to your clit. Hyunjin latched onto your bundle of nerves, sucking the bud with his plush lips. You felt your slick leak out, the pleasure mounting as Hyunjin made out with your pussy. You rocked your hips, riding Hyunjin’s face, gripping his hair harder and harder with each passing moment. You were close, that familiar feeling of the coil in your belly ready to snap.

Hyunjin lifted his head, licking your slick from his lips. You whined at the loss of contact, watching as he pulled down his shorts, freeing his hard on. He stroked his cock, spreading his pre-cum up and down his shaft, his gaze never leaving yours. Bringing his cock down to your lips, he rubbed his cock through your folds, tapping it against your clit a few times.

“Hyun, please, need you. Make me yours please,” you whined, spreading your legs wider for him.

“I got you angel,” Hyunjin replied, pressing his tip into your entrance, before slowly sliding in. The stretch felt so good, you throwing your head back in pleasure. Hyunjin pushed and pushed until he bottomed out, a moan leaving his lips at how tight you were around him.

“Can I move angel? Can I make you mine?”

You shook your head yes, pushing your hips up to get him to move. Hyunjin smiled down at you as he dragged his cock out and pushed it back in. He rested his arms on the side of your head as he rocked his hips into you, gazing into your eyes. You tried to get him to go faster, begging for him to fuck you harder, but Hyunjin just shook his head.

“Let me make love to you angel,” Hyunjin gasped out. “Fuck I love you so much angel. My beautiful girl, all mine.”

You felt overwhelmed, the feeling of Hyunjin’s cock dragging in and out of you, in a deep but slow pace, little moans falling from your lips with each thrust. You kept eye contact with Hyunjin as he fucked you, whispering his name over and over.

Sweat dripped down Hyunjin’s face as he fucked into you, your tight pussy hugging his cock perfectly. You were made for him. He knew it all along, but these last few days confirmed the feeling. He rocked his hips at a slightly faster pace, his high approaching. He could tell you were close too, your whines getting louder. He brought a finger down to your clit, rubbing the bud to get you there. He wanted to cum with you, to drown you with his love.

You were close, Hyunjin speeding along your orgasm with the touch of his fingers on your clit. Your moans increased in pitch, the coil tightening, threatening to snap at any moment. You breathed out, again and again, your chest raising and falling with each thrust, the feeling more intense than ever before.

“Cum with me angel,” Hyunjin moaned out, his hips losing their rhythmic motion as he continued to rock into you.

With one, two, three more thrusts, Hyunjin came, his cum flooding your walls, the warmth of his cum and feeling of Hyunjin’s fingers on your clit bringing you over the edge. You felt intense ecstasy, your orgasm spreading throughout your body, the feeling more powerful than you ever felt before. You clutched onto Hyunjin, bringing him flush to your chest as he continued to rock his hips into you, riding out your highs together.

You both laid there, your breathing coming back to normal. Hyunjin lifted his head to press kisses against your face, murmuring “I love you” after each one. You sighed, more than satisfied, tightening your hold on Hyunjin.

After a while, Hyunjin detangled himself from you, slowly pulling his softened cock out of you.

“Let me clean you up angel.”

You watched as he left to grab a towel, and came to wipe you down, gently running the warm cloth up and down your body cleaning up the fluids painted across your nether region. He placed the towel on his bedside table before pulling you under the covers with him.

“My beautiful girl,” he whispered, his eyes never leaving your face. “Mine all mine.”

He couldn’t believe it, you were his, finally. He has you now and he wasn’t ever going to let you go. Pressing a kiss to your face, he soothed you to sleep, happy he met you all those years ago. Happy you gave a guy like him a chance. As his eyes closed, succumbing to sleep, he thanked the lucky stars that he was able to be with the girl who brings art to life and who is a work of art herself.

Taglist: @jeonginsleftcheek @jehhskz @thesilvernight0wl @armystay89

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