#evidently the expectation is that they lay down and take it instead of standing up for themselves

[ccazimi]

To Be Human...

cw: kitsune reader x trueform sukuna, femreader, heian era childhood au, fluff, angst, mentions of blood/violence/death, non-sexual nudity, a little bit of smut (inappropriate usage of sukuna's stomach tongue)

wc: 8k

a/n: first time writing sth like this so im kinda nervous :P listened to zombie by the cranberries on repeat hehe

He’s only around ten or eleven when he finds you.

Your inky fur gleams in the pale light of the moon as you lay there, the bottom half of your body pinned under a large stone.

The lax tripwire attests to what has happened — you’ve been caught under a hunter’s deadfall trap. The leaves and dirt have been messily disarrayed around you, evidence you’d tried your best to escape until you’d given up.

Now you lay there, eyes glassy and chest rising and falling in shallow breaths as you await whatever fate has in store for you — likely a hunter coming in the morning to skin you and turn you into a pelt for nobles.

You don’t give any sign of acknowledgement as the four armed boy approaches you except for the slightest twitch of one of your ears, and Sukuna knows its bad based on your lack of reaction alone.

Sukuna kneels and looks at the state of your body under the rock. He can’t see much but he can smell the blood tinging the air.

Stupid creature, he thinks, it’s almost deserved for falling into such a dumb trap.

But still with a sigh he tries to move the rock.

It barely budges but that slight movement makes you whine faintly.

You’re lucky it only caught your hindlegs — anywhere else and you would’ve died on impact.

And so he stands, lifts his fingers, and—

“Dismantle.”

Instantly the large stone is diced and falls apart, a few falling on your body, but none large enough to do further damage.

It takes you a moment to realize the pressure pinning you down has been removed, and when you do, you try to move.

The most you can do is slightly drag your mangled lower body by pulling yourself along with your front paws, and even that much seems to be a struggle for you.

Sukuna thinks you look so pathetic like this that he steps forwards and crouches to lay his fingers on the fur matted with blood.

You flinch and look back, but there’s not much you can do in your current condition, even as a warmth begins to flow from his touch, spreading across your flesh and building till it feels like a searing burn.

He huffs and holds you down as you yelp in agony and begin to writhe about. “Just stay still, I’m trying to help you.”

And just as you’re about to bend back and bite him, the pain is gone.

All of it.

Tentatively you stand, confirming that all of your wounds have been healed, bone and flesh mended together.

Sukuna steps back, expecting you to run away now that you’re able to do so.

But instead you just stand, staring at him with those dark soulful eyes.

He frowns at you. “What? You can go now. Shoo.”

Sukuna feels a little agitated at the way you’re staring at him, possible even a little self-conscious as though he’s being stared at by another person.

Instead, you sit before laying down fully, resting your head on your paws as you look up at him.

“Dumb mongrel.” He mutters, deciding he’s done with this, and turns away ready to move on.

He continues walking along in the forest, but not even a minute later and he hears the softest noise behind him.

He stops and turns to find you silently following him.

Sukuna crosses both pairs of his arms. “Leave. I’m not your mother.”

You make no signs of doing so, so he gives up and continues along, choosing to simply ignore you following him.

Eventually he finds a suitable tree with a hollow and decides it’s good enough to sleep in for the night.

He settles down, opening the light hemp sack he’s carrying to take out some dried meat and nibble on it.

There’s not much left, but he’s used to the hunger.

You follow suit, laying down a few feet in front of him. Sukuna half expects you to beg for food but you don’t, just laying there.

He squints.

Even in this dim light he can make out the structure of your skeleton, poking through your gaunt frame.

You’re starving, just like him.

Fuck it.

Against his better judgement he tears the piece of meat he’s eating in half and throws a portion to you, where it lands by your nose.

The movement catches your eyes and you sniff it cautiously before inhaling the entire thing in one go.

When morning comes, you’re gone.

Sukuna isn’t surprised — you got what you needed from him and left when he had nothing more to offer. He would’ve done the same himself.

That day he searches unsuccessfully for some game, and when night comes there’s nothing to show for his efforts. So he settles back down to sleep so that he can conserve his energy, or at least to distract him from the constant pit in his stomach.

The next day his luck is the same, and like the night before he once again prepares to sleep with an empty stomach.

A bit later, he hears it — shuffling within the undergrowth.

He sits up, raising his hand, ready to attack whatever’s about to show itself.

But he isn’t prepared for what actually does come — a black fox holding a dead rabbit in its mouth.

Sukuna can hardly believe what’s happening as you come up to him and drop the carcass at his feet. It seems fresh.

He doesn’t say anything but when he cooks and hungrily eats the rabbit, he gives half of it to you.

Later that day he finds you playing with a small pearlescent white ball that you seemingly got from nowhere.

He knows then what you are — likely a rather young one judging by the fact that you didn’t seem so strong and couldn’t shapeshift yet, but a fox spirit nonetheless.

Weeks pass, and he grows accustomed to your presence. You follow him everywhere, shadowing his every move. Even when you vanish—sometimes for a few hours, sometimes for an entire day—you always return. Often with small game clenched between your teeth, a silent offering at his feet.

If he eats, you eat. If he doesn’t, you both endure the hunger together.

The first time you come back injured is after one of your longer disappearances. You limp into his sight, a chicken dangling from your jaws—an arrow lodged deep in your flank.

And still, you make it back to him, staggering but determined, dropping the bird at his feet before finally collapsing onto your good side.

Only then does he realize how you’ve been getting the livestock. You’ve been stealing from villages. A death sentence.

In times like these, even a starving thief would be hunted down without mercy.

“No more.” His voice is sharp as he presses a hand to your side, pinning you down. You yelp as he rips the arrow free. “They’ll kill you.”

The scent of your blood is sharp in the freezing air. But then his palm flares with heat, and in a single burst of power, the wound vanishes—sealed as if it had never been there.

Months pass. The air turns bitter, the trees skeletal, and game becomes harder than ever to find. Food dwindles. Even the smallest scraps are a battle to obtain.

And still, whenever there is something to eat, he shares it with you.

The nights grow relentlessly cold, and soon your arrangement shifts. You begin curling up beside him as he sleeps—sometimes pressed against him, sometimes sprawled on top of him, clinging to whatever warmth his body provides. He doesn’t push you away.

Starvation forces his hand. There is no choice but to move closer to civilization, to raid villages in search of food. You assist, of course—darting through the shadows, quick and unseen.

More than once, these raids end in blood. Villagers fight back. Some die. More than once, you and Sukuna barely escape with your own lives—sometimes without even a morsel to show for it, because the common folk are just as starved as you.

Yet still, you remain by his side.

Finally, winter passes, and the plum blossoms bloom to herald another year of survival.

It should be easier to find food now that the cold has receded, but early spring is the cruelest season—the time when game remains scarce, crops have yet to sprout, and the last of the winter rations have run out.

Even raiding villages yields little, and hunger begins to loom like a specter. You both find yourselves resorting to anything you can find—grubworms, grasshoppers, crickets—desperate scraps to stave off the gnawing emptiness.

Despite the harshness of this life, it’s easier to forget the hunger when you’re together. The small moments of shared mischief, the absurdity of it all, make the suffering feel distant, if only for a fleeting second.

He doesn’t understand the first time it happens, how, despite walking straight ahead, he ends up back at the very same tree he started from. He’s sure he’s not going in circles. Right?

Then the thought strikes him, and he glances at you—sitting innocently, looking up at him with wide eyes.

And he knows.

“You.”

His suspicion is confirmed when you burst into high-pitched laughter, your tail swishing with glee as his glare sharpens.

But it’s fine. He finds his own ways to bother you.

He quickly learns that you absolutely hate having your head patted, and the longer strokes of his hand along your fur are even worse—especially when he adds, “I think you might have fleas…”

When he tugs on one of your whiskers, you nip him in annoyance, your teeth flashing sharp in the dim light. He can’t help but laugh at the frustration you so clearly wear.

And Sukuna learns his lesson when you cackle throughout the night, refusing to let him sleep, your giddy laughter echoing in the still air.

During moments of quiet, he hones his cursed techniques, while you entertain yourself with that shiny little ball of yours. He finds it almost comical how obsessed you are with it.

But the real trouble starts when he snatches it from you and tosses it into a bush, teasing, “Fetch it like a dog.”

You retaliate instantly, a wave of vertigo crashing over him so violently that he crumples to the ground, unable to stand for minutes.

Sukuna grumbles under his breath, his head spinning, hating when you mess with his mind.

And still, the young boy harbors an intrinsic belief that he is your protector. It’s an instinct, perhaps, that keeps him tethered to the last vestiges of his humanity. Little does he know, it is you who considers yourself his guardian.

So when that fated day arrives, and you hear the band of sorcerers and their tracking dogs, the ones sent to hunt down the four-armed creature who’s been terrorizing the villages—stealing food, killing—you are flooded with panic. Not for yourself, but for him.

Lately, his presence has drawn more and more attention. The bounty on Sukuna’s head has put a target on him, and several groups of sorcerers are scouring the land for him. It’s only a matter of time before they catch up.

You feel their cursed energy before you see them, smell the dogs before you hear them. Instantly, you leap onto the sleeping boy, shaking him awake, flooding his mind with urgency, pushing him to move faster.

Sukuna is strong, unnaturally so for his age and circumstances, but he is still a malnourished child. You doubt he stands a chance against a group of sorcerers, specially trained and sent by the capital itself to hunt him down.

The cursed energy suffocates the air, thick and oppressive, and while Sukuna stirs beside you, one of the dogs finds your scent. Its bark shatters the silence, alerting the others to your location.

He scrambles to his feet, but something sharp slices through the air, embedding itself into the tree with a sickening thud, narrowly missing his head.

The cursed weapon’s affliction spreads like an ugly bruise across the trunk, and soon, the men emerge, bursting into the clearing with cold determination.

Sukuna runs instinctively, as do you, but more cursed projectiles whiz past you, and you know—there’s no way both of you will make it out.

Another hiss, and you feel it—agony in your hind leg. The curse digs into your flesh, poisoning it, embedding deep into your bone.

In your mind, you thank Sukuna for these last two years, for saving your life, for giving it meaning. Because now, you know without a doubt, it’s over.

Sukuna runs, believing you’re still right behind him. An illusion that you’ve spun.

You’ve stopped. He sprints ahead, his feet crackling over dead leaves, unaware of the fate that has already befallen you. You turn, facing the sorcerers. They see not the injured fox, but a weakened Sukuna, collapsed on the ground.

The years pass, and Ryomen Sukuna becomes the monster the world had declared him to be from the moment of his birth. His title as the strongest is solidified after he obliterates clans of the most powerful sorcerers in the land. Fear and awe grip the people, and they kneel before him—not out of reverence, but to avoid his wrath.

Sukuna feels no remorse. Not when he stands amidst the dead, surrounded by limp corpses and the stench of blood. Not when the pleading voices of his victims are cut short by a swift, merciless slash. Remorse is for humans, and it was decided long ago that he was not one of them.

Yet, in the midst of the carnage, there are moments—a fleeting sense that he is being watched, a slight unease that causes him to hesitate, just for a fraction of a second, before he cleaves through another innocent.

Sometimes, as he sets villages ablaze, he freezes, thinking he glimpsed the silhouette of a black fox slipping through the smoke, its movements graceful among the burning ruins. It vanishes as quickly as it appears.

Tricks of the mind, perhaps some remaining stain of his humanity.

Years later when he sleeps at night within the abandoned estate he’s settled in with Uraume, he occasionally dreams of a black fox playing with a small white ball.

They are the only dreams he ever has.

Then, one day, the woman appears at his estate, asking if she can stay. She tells him she’s been exiled from her village, with no place left to go, certain that she’ll starve if left to wander alone.

Sukuna eyes you with careful assessment. There’s something in your gaze—a quiet resilience, an unfamiliar comfort—and despite everything, he agrees.

It’s strange. Really, he should’ve killed you on the spot, or at the very least, kept you as a potential meal for later. But there’s something about the way you look at him, like you’re not a stranger but a distant echo of something he’s lost, something that feels almost like home.

But he’s still Sukuna, and you’re still a random woman. So he lets you stay, under the condition that you help around the estate—gathering firewood, tending to small chores, and foraging for food in the forest.

Over time, he gets used to your presence, though he doesn’t acknowledge it out loud.

Yet, there are strange things about you that he can’t ignore.

For one, you eat with no sense of decorum, devouring your food like you’ve been starved for days. And every time he eats something, you look at him with pleading eyes, asking for a taste of whatever it is.

Your reaction to his taste for human meat also stands out. Where others would be horrified, you remain unfazed, even uncomfortably comfortable with it, despite the fact that you won’t eat it yourself.

Something about you doesn’t seem quite right, but Sukuna can’t put his finger on it.

Then there are the little oddities—like how he starts losing things more often. Little things at first: a knife misplaced here, a thought forgotten there. He walks into a room and then forgets why he came. It’s disorienting, and the more he tries to track it, the more elusive it becomes.

And your sleeping habits… They’re just as strange. You nap at odd hours, usually finding yourself curled up in places he wouldn’t expect—on the rooftop, in the middle of the moya, even once right in the doorway, where he nearly trips over you.

Though you’ve been harmless enough, there’s something unsettling about you—or perhaps it’s the way you make him feel. It’s like he knows you, even though he’s certain he’s never seen you before the day you showed up on his doorstep.

One day, while you’re gone foraging in the forest, Sukuna finds himself walking into the eastern pavilion that’s become your chamber. He’s not sure what he’s searching for, but as he looks around, he discovers some dried fish, likely the ones Uraume had been searching for a few days ago, and a set of scrolls of his that had gone missing without his notice.

A thief, it seems. Nothing too surprising; it’s a small problem, but it’s one he’ll have to deal with.

He’s about to leave when something catches his eye—a flash of white, glimmering from within the folds of your bedding. Curiosity pricks at him as he steps closer. There, nestled among the fabric, is a small ball.

And suddenly, everything clicks into place.

You finally return in the late afternoon, laying out your haul—persimmons, chestnuts, a few ginkgo nuts, acorns, matsutake mushrooms, and lotus root.

Sukuna watches, humming thoughtfully before asking, “Anything you wish to tell me?”

You pause, meeting his gaze with a playful smile. “Anything you wish to hear?”

He simply stares at you, making you shift uncomfortably under his gaze. After a long moment, you finally relent. “Okay, fine! I took some of the dried ayu—I just get hungry at night sometimes…”

“Anything else?”

You huff. “I took a few of your scrolls too. I was bored. And yes, I drank some of your sake, but it was just a small taste, I swear!”

Sukuna frowns, the realization dawning on him. That’s why he’d been running out of sake so quickly—he thought he’d developed a drinking problem. He shakes his head in exasperation but holds out a small white ball to you.

“Hey, I’ve been looking for that!” Your eyes light up, and you lunge to snatch it from his hand, but he raises it just out of reach.

“Are you serious? Do you have nothing to say for yourself, fox?”

You look up at him, the playful glimmer in your eyes. In that instant, Sukuna realizes what you’ve been doing—playing a game all along, waiting for him to figure out who you were.

“Do you think this is funny?”

You grin, and Sukuna finds himself wanting to be angry. But the truth is, there’s something else bubbling inside him—something he can’t shake. He wants answers more than anything else.

“How are you not dead?” he asks, his voice softer now, and a flicker of old memories rises to the surface. Memories of you, the fox who had saved his life, who had stayed loyal when others would have abandoned him. Compassion, something he had rarely received from anyone.

It stirs something in him—a weakness he thought buried, a lingering part of his humanity he had long tried to abandon. But that thought is fleeting, buried again beneath his frustration.

“A magician can’t reveal their secrets now, can they?”

Sukuna fixes you with a stern look, his expression hardening again. “Fine, keep your secrets. But you won’t be getting your stupid little ball back.”

“Hey!” You glare at him in indignation. “What if I tell you whatever else you want?”

He agrees, and so you begin to explain. You tell him of your desire to live as a human, about how, when you learned to shapeshift, you sought out a life within the villages.

But no matter how hard you tried, no matter how you fit yourself into their world, kitsune are not human, and the forces of nature demand that they keep moving—transitory, untouchable. It is not in a kitsune’s nature to stay in one place for long, especially amidst human society. So, one way or another, you were always forced to leave, wandering from village to village, never able to stay.

Sukuna listens, but there’s a strange disconnection in his gaze. He doesn’t understand your desire to be human. He scoffs when he learns that kitsune see humans as the superior form, and he can’t help but mock your longing.

You, however, simply smile, not bothering to argue. You know him—his rejection of his humanity, his dismissal of what makes him human. While you don’t share his sentiment, you understand it in a way he may never realize.

You don’t say anything, just smile softly when he mocks your desire to be human, a soft acceptance in your eyes.

Sukuna begins to regret taking in a nocturnal creature, for you become restless at night. Eventually, you decide that it will be him who bears the burden of your boredom.

So, there you are in the dead of night, sneaking into Sukuna’s room, which—unfortunately for him—is warmer than your own. You crouch beside him, leaning in close.

This might just be the worst trick you’ve played on him, though you’d never admit it. There are no limitations in the realm of dreams, after all. And even more unfortunate for Sukuna? Your creativity knows no bounds.

You have no idea whether he was dreaming before, but as of right now, Sukuna’s been shrunk down to the size of a caterpillar, trapped in a jar by you, and shaken vigorously until his eyes shoot open and he wakes abruptly.

He stares at you, sitting innocently by his body, a sweet smile on your face. And he immediately knows exactly what’s happening.

“Bad dreams?”

Sukuna’s glare is sharp as a blade. “I should’ve killed you the night I found you pinned under that stupid rock.”

You grin, completely unbothered. “I’m taking that as a yes.”

He glowers, exasperated. “What the hell do you want, mongrel?”

“I’m bored.”

Sukuna groans in frustration. “Go and chop the vegetables for breakfast or something.”

The next morning, Sukuna is less than pleased when Uraume nervously informs him that all the vegetables have been minced so finely they’re practically paste.

After a few nights of this, Sukuna gives up trying to come up with things for you to do. Whenever you wake him in the middle of the night, he knows what’s coming—your malicious compliance.

So the next time you go to wake him, he shifts over, leaving an empty space on his bedding. “Get in and sleep.”

“I’m not sleepy.”

“I know. Just get in and try.”

Sukuna hopes that having another warm body beside you will somehow help lull you into sleep. But you just huff, reluctantly crawling in next to him on the silk-lined shitone that smells faintly of smoke and musk—his scent. It stirs something in you, but you push it aside, focusing on trying to sleep, wondering if he’s asleep.

Sukuna thinks he’s finally found a way to subdue you, but then he feels it—a gentle touch, your fingers tracing his face, brushing against the markings on his skin.

You’ve always been too comfortable with him, touching him out of curiosity, with nothing better to do. He tries to ignore it, but when your fingers trace the edges of his mask, he growls, his hand shooting out to grip your wrist and yank it away.

“Do you mind? Go to sleep, brat.”

But it’s too late. Now, your curiosity has been piqued, and the questions begin.

“Does that side of your face hurt?”

“No.”

“What about your tattoos?”

“What about them?”

“Did they hurt?”

“No.”

Your curiosity doesn’t let up. “What happens if you eat two different things, one with your normal mouth and the other with your stomach mouth? Do the flavors blend together?”

Sukuna makes a noise of frustration, more exasperated than ever. “I liked you better as a fox, you know? Less talking.”

Living with you is certainly not easy. You torment him at every opportunity, badger him for his food, lie about completely nonsensical things for no reason at all. Sukuna’s caught you more than once trying to convince Uraume to team up against him, and let’s not forget the time you made Uraume cry by telling him Sukuna planned to eat the young boy.

Sukuna had to step in, reassuring Uraume with a dry smirk that if he were going to eat anyone, it would be you.

You try to show your apologies in your own way—by leaving piles of dead bodies at the front of the estate the next morning. These are wandering travelers you lured into the forest, then deceived into stabbing each other to death.

It’s almost comical to Sukuna. Here you are, aspiring to be human, yet your moral framework is... questionable at best. It doesn’t take him long to piece together why you’ve been repeatedly exiled from the villages you’ve stayed in.

Take, for example, the time you tried to prank him with a tea made from aconite tubers. At first, he thinks it’s an assassination attempt. Then, he realizes you honestly didn’t see the danger in it. You were “pretty sure” it wouldn’t fully kill him.

Almost… pretty sure.

There are also times when you just vanish randomly from the estate, only to return with “gifts” — though most of them are, at best, bizarre, and at worst, useless. Rare herbs, a finely crafted knife, a silk sash… all of these Sukuna assumes you stole from some village. However, it’s not long before he checks back on these “gifts” only to find that many times they were just illusions—turning out to be nothing more than piles of dead leaves.

More often than not, though, you don’t even try to hide the absurdity of the “presents.” He’ll wake up to find fishbones scattered in front of his door, a single slipper that isn’t his, or even a live bird flapping around in his room like some sort of wild, unnecessary spectacle.

Then there was that time you appeared out of nowhere, holding a rock with the most solemn expression.

“For you,” you said, handing it to him with careful deliberation.

Sukuna stares at it. A rock. Just an ordinary, dusty gray rock. He looks at you, deadpan. “Why would I want this?”

You beam brightly. “It reminded me of you.”

Sukuna stares back at the rock in his hand. No unique markings, no rare qualities. Just a mundane rock. Your thought process is a complete mystery to him.

He yells at you to get lost but when you sneak into Sukuna’s room later to snoop through his stuff you find the rock stored in his cabinet.

Dinner time begins as usual with you, Sukuna, and Uraume each settling into your respective meals. You’re always the first to finish—no surprise there.

As soon as your bowl is empty, your eyes immediately lock onto Sukuna’s. He glares at you, bringing his bowl closer to his mouth. “No.”

You put on your best pleading face, batting your lashes with exaggerated sweetness. “Just one bite, please?”

Sukuna eyes you suspiciously. “It’s human.”

“No, it’s not,” you argue, “I asked Uraume, and he said it’s deer.”

Uraume chokes on his food, eyes widening in panic as Sukuna turns his gaze to him. Uraume quickly looks away, hoping to avoid the wrath he knows is coming.

Sukuna turns back to you, glaring. “Stop begging, like a greedy mongrel.”

Uraume keeps his gaze to the ground, shrinking back in preparation for what’s coming next, as it always does.

“Don’t CALL ME THAT.”

“Then quit acting like it.” To further annoy you, Sukuna casually sets his chopsticks down, then proceeds to dump the entire contents of his bowl into the maw on his abdomen, swallowing it whole.

You stare, your mouth hanging open in disbelief. “What the hell? You can’t do that, it’s cheating.”

He grins, the kind of grin that says he’s enjoying every second of this. “Mad, mutt?”

In your anger, you lunge at him tackling him to the ground while he just laughs at you. And the great Ryomen Sukuna, known for destroying villages and massacring innocents, lets you, fighting back with maybe five percent of his power just to let you have your fun.

At some point, you’ve decided that anything of his is yours too—his food, his space, and especially his bed. It’s become a nightly ritual for you to “move in” to his room, claiming your room is too cold to sleep in. Sukuna knows better than to argue, especially since he’s aware that you barely sleep anyway.

“Get out,” he mutters, his voice laced with exhaustion. “I know you’re just going to bother me instead of actually sleeping.”

“I won’t! See how sleepy I look?” you counter, feigning tiredness with an exaggerated yawn and wide, glassy eyes.

Sukuna eyes you, the expression on your face a far cry from the exhaustion you’re pretending to have. With a resigned sigh, he shifts over to make room for you, though the action seems more reluctant than welcoming. Perhaps a part of him, deep down, enjoys the warmth of your presence—your body pressed against his while he tries to sleep, even if it means enduring your never-ending stream of nonsensical chatter.

And, as predicted, the moment you settle in, you begin—

“Your body would be the perfect meat farm, did you know that?”

There it is. Sukuna exhales sharply, already dreading where this is going. “What? Actually, don’t elaborate—“

“I’d cut chunks out of you whenever you’re hungry since you’d just heal up again, right?” You’re practically gleaming at the thought, unfazed by his annoyance.

Sukuna, desperately trying to ignore your incessant ramblings, stays silent, hoping it will dissuade you. It doesn’t.

“Oh, and that big juicy tongue down there... you can grow that back too, right? Because I think that would be my favorite part of you, slow-cooked and simmered in some br—”

Sukuna’s patience snaps. “Enough. Keep talking and I’ll cut out your tongue and eat it myself.”

You only grin wider. “Oh, what, so it’s only okay when you cannibalize people?”

Weeks turn into months, and somewhere along the way, the nights spent in Sukuna’s bed become something more. Each time, you find yourself sleeping closer to him, your limbs winding around his, your head resting against his chest, your nails softly tracing the surface of his scalp in the dark. It happens without words, but the comfort of it feels so natural, so undeniable.

But as soon as the sun rises, the two of you fall back into your usual roles. The playful tormenting, the biting remarks, the petty battles. Not a single word is spoken about the closeness shared in the night—there's a mutual, unspoken agreement between you both to pretend it doesn’t happen.

It’s as if it never existed, just another fleeting moment in the chaos of your lives.

Sukuna swears he doesn’t care about you—no matter how many nights you stay gone from the estate, no matter how many times he finds himself checking the door for your return. He tells himself he doesn’t care, not even when he finally leaves the estate to search nearby villages, convinced that you’ve gotten yourself caught stealing again.

And of course, he finds you, tied up in the center of a village, your face smeared with ash as a mark of your supposed crime. He doesn’t hesitate for a moment, razing the entire village to the ground in a fiery, brutal display of wrath.

You watch through it all, your gaze steady and knowing. You don’t beg for mercy, nor do you cheer him on as he tears the place apart. You’re indifferent, unfazed by his fury as if you’ve seen it all before, and perhaps in some twisted way, you have.

He drags you back to the estate, more irritated than anything, and when he finally reaches the safety of his home, he grabs you by the arm, his voice low and stern. “You’re not running away again, got it? No more stealing from villages.”

He expects you to throw a snarky comment back at him, to tease or mock him, as you always do. But this time, there’s nothing. You’re silent, your eyes fixed on him, an unreadable look on your face, like you’re studying him, trying to understand the contradictions that make him who he is.

It’s a gaze he knows all too well, the same kind of observance that followed him during all his years of killing and maiming, of playing the role of the monster.

He crosses his arms, fingers tapping impatiently as he narrows his gaze at you, expecting something—anything—from you. “Speak, fox.”

You tilt your head slightly.

“It’s rather curious... when you act like the monster they say you are… I see something so undeniably human in you.”

Sukuna’s expression tightens, and he clicks his tongue in frustration, dismissing you with his usual indifference. “I’m not in the mood for your riddles. Next time, I’ll just leave you to rot.”

But despite his words, something shifts in the air between you. His eyes linger on yours for a moment too long, and for the briefest of moments, the monster he tries so hard to be seems less certain, less absolute.

But he won’t admit it.

Not to you. Not to himself.

Later that night, Sukuna jolts awake to a warm weight pressing against his chest. His vision clears, sleep fading fast, and he finds you straddling him, keen eyes peering down at him. He meets your stare with a glare of his own.

"Can I help you?"

You don’t answer.

Because how do you tell him that despite his name being spoken like a curse, despite the terror that follows him like a shadow, he looks more human in sleep than those who recoil at the mere mention of him?

With the brazier’s dim glow casting flickering light over his face, the xyloid mask embedded in his skin, and the dark ink slashing across his jaw, he should look like the monster they say he is.

But he doesn’t.

So instead, you grin from above him. “No. I’m sleeping here tonight. You’re quite comfortable.”

Sukuna clicks his tongue. "Tch. I could be carved from stone, and you’d still say that."

Yet two of his hands find your hips—not forceful, just firm enough to keep you there.

You sigh, sinking down, the soft curves of your body molding against the solid planes of his. The steady heat of him seeps into you, his scent—smoke and something distinctly him—wrapping around you like a soothing weight.

For a moment, neither of you speak. Then, another one of his hands lift, fingers brushing through your hair, tucking away a stray lock behind your ear. His touch lingers a moment longer than necessary.

"Tsk. Stupid thing. You got lucky today that they didn’t just kill you outright."

"I’m sure they wouldn’t have. It was only petty thievery."

"You underestimate the cruelty of humans," he murmurs. "What were you even trying to steal?"

"Red bean rice."

You don’t add that it wasn’t just for you. That you had gone to steal sake for him, knowing he was running low.

Sukuna clicks his tongue in disapproval. "Red bean rice? Really? You could’ve just asked, and I would’ve gotten it for you."

"You would’ve burned down the whole village trying to do so."

"I did that anyway. Could’ve at least gotten the rice."

"Well—"

A hand clamps over your mouth. "Just keep quiet if you won’t even admit your mistake."

You only huff against his palm, nuzzling closer as his grip shifts, fingertips trailing absently down your spine.

The silence between you is fragile, the kind neither of you wants to break—not when his touch is this soft, not when his breaths are this deep, rising and falling beneath you.

You’re warm all over—your cheeks, your ears, your blood, your lips. And they only grow hotter when his fingers ghost over the front panel of your kosode, slipping into the lining but going no further.

They wait.

A silent bid for permission.

You swallow, reaching up to curl your fingers around his, tugging at the fabric in quiet invitation. Neither of you looks at the other as he slowly peels the garment from your shoulders.

It falls away, exposing the bare plane of your sternum. The night air whispers over your skin, a stark contrast to the warmth between you.

Then, his hands find you—not lewdly, but reverently.

His touch is slow, unhurried, mapping you with a careful kind of curiosity, gliding over your curves, lingering at the swell of your breasts. His thumbs brush over your nipples in a teasing caress, making them stiffen under his touch and pulling the breath from your lungs.

Drowsiness creeps at the edges of your mind, weighing down on your eyelids, but before sleep can take you, your fingers drift lower, tracing the band of his hakama. You tug—just slightly, a wordless request.

He obliges.

One set of arms holds you close as the others tug the fabric away, leaving nothing between you but heat and skin.

His hands roam lower, fingers pressing into the soft curve of your hips.

You breathe him in, letting the moment fold around you, silent and unspoken, like something neither of you dare name.

And, wrapped in his warmth, you finally slip into sleep.

The nights have settled into a quiet routine—skin pressed against skin, a shared warmth beneath the covers. It’s a delicate kind of intimacy, one that exists only in the dark, when the teasing and bickering of the day give way to something softer, quieter.

Lately, though, you’ve found a new way to amuse yourself— your teeth.

During the day, you nip at any exposed inch of his skin before scampering away, reveling in the way his irritation simmers beneath the surface. A graze along his forearm, a sharp bite to his shoulder—it’s a game, one you always win.

But tonight, your mischief doesn’t settle even when both of you are undressed, bodies relaxed into the familiar comfort of each other. Instead, you straddle his torso, fingers tracing idle patterns along his chest as his eyes drift shut.

And because you’re you, you lean down and nip his cheek.

Sukuna’s lower eyes crack open, glowing faintly in the dim light of the brazier. He exhales sharply, clearly unimpressed.

“Cut that shit out, brat. You’re fucking insufferable.”

You hum, unbothered. The restless energy in your limbs doesn’t fade, and the only thing that seems to relieve it is the press of your teeth against his skin. So you bite him again.

A low growl rumbles from his throat. His fingers twitch against the sheets. **“**Do that again and see what happens.”

There’s a challenge in his voice, the kind that sends something electric down your spine. You grin. And then you do it again.

The response is immediate—before you can pull back, two of his hands shoot out, one tangling into your hair, the other pressing firmly against the nape of your neck, holding you in place.

The last two grip your hips, fingers digging into the soft flesh there, not enough to hurt, but enough to keep you still.

“Sukuna—” you start, but you don’t get to finish.

He shifts beneath you, tilting his head, and then—warm lips press against yours, firm and deliberate.

You freeze.

And then you melt.

Your breath hitches as his mouth moves against yours, slow at first, testing, tasting. He parts your lips with ease, his tongue sweeping into warm wet cavern of your mouth, claiming every inch, every sound you make. His grip on you tightens as you kiss him back, heat curling low in your stomach.

It’s almost infuriating, how easily he turns the tables, how effortlessly he steals the air from your lungs. But you can’t bring yourself to care, not when you’re tangled in him like this, not when his hands are on your body like you belong to him.

And maybe in some way, you do, the same way he belongs to you.

You savor the taste of him, making out sloppily until amidst the heat you feel skin opening up from beneath where your core is pressed against his abdomen.

Before you can process what’s happening, something hot and dripping presses against your damp slit, and you buck your hips in surprise, yelping into his mouth.

You feel his lips stretch into a grin against yours, refusing to let you pull back for air as the large tongue languidly strokes your clit in teasing licks that send electric sparks shooting up your spine.

He takes the chance when you pant and moan softly to slide his tongue deeper into your open mouth, tangling your tongue with his as the one below parts your drenched folds and slips in, slithering into your tight channel before rubbing harshly against that one spongey area that makes your mind blank and whimper needily into his mouth.

He’s everywhere— invading your mouth, shoving his tongue so far down your throat you think he’s trying to taste your lungs while the muscle in your cunt pushes up even deeper till it’s nudging, lapping at the fleshy wall of your cervix.

You mewl, squirming and bucking your hips, feeling so impossibly full of his tongue, and he groans into your mouth as well at the taste of you all over — the flavor of your mouth along with the way he can feel your walls clenching around him below as he tongues the entrance to your cervix faster and more intensely like he’s trying to eat you from the inside.

Another hand grips one of your breasts somewhere along the way, squeezing and massaging the pliant flesh, rolling your nipple between his fingers, as he sinks his teeth into your lower lip and suddenly it’s all too much—

Your orgasm crashes over you, flooding your senses with ecstasy and the maw on his abdomen with a warm gush of your liquid seeping out of your walls as he continues to juice you, pushing against that sensitive spot and making the fluids continue to drip into his large mouth as he sucks on your tongue, hungrily swallowing all your moans and cries of pleasure.

And finally you still and his hold on you loosens, letting you break away with only a gossamer strand of saliva connecting your mouths that snaps as you look down at him with flushed cheeks, trying to come back to your senses.

He smirks deviously at your disarrayed state as one of his hands caresses your backside softly. “Who knew that was how to shut you up this entire time?”

You huff but lean back down, wrapping your arms around his neck as you press delicate, loving kisses into his skin, eventually falling asleep.

He holds you, trying not to let his hard-ons poke into you, content enough for now to simply embrace your satiated body and feel the warmth of your skin that seems to seep through the cracks within hardened muscle and flesh into his own heart.

The first dream comes that night.

You stand beneath an endless night sky, the cool air brushing against your skin. In the distance, a snow-white fox watches you, its fur glowing silver under the moonlight. It does not speak. It does not move. But its gaze is knowing—waiting.

Then, it turns and walks ahead, leaving behind a trail of faintly glowing pawprints. An unspoken invitation.

You do not follow.

The fox stops, blinking once—slow, understanding—before vanishing into the mist.

You wake with the certainty of what has happened.

You have wandered the mortal realm long enough, and finally Inari has found you.

The goddess calls you home, offers you ascension, a chance to become a true kitsune. A way to escape death—whatever fate awaits spirits who linger too long in the world of men.

But you don’t take it.

And the dreams continue.

Torii gates, endless in number, stretching into the mist, each a door to the path you refuse to take. A golden rice field under the full moon, shimmering—until the stalks wither beneath your touch. The chime of a shrine bell, growing louder as you step forward—then fading the moment you turn away.

Every night, the same quiet plea. And every night, you deny it.

Because no divine warmth, no promise of something greater, could ever compare to him.

To the way his hands rest on your hips. The way his lips ghost over your skin. The playful bickering, the teasing—things reserved for you alone. The flicker of something softer in his crimson eyes, fleeting but real.

Of course, he knows nothing of these dreams.

Nothing of the choice you’ve been given, and chosen to ignore.

Because you were never Inari’s to claim; you were bound to Sukuna since that day he found you as children.

You spend four years by his side, yet they slip through your fingers like grains of sand. You see him in his violence, in his carnage—just as you do in his quiet, in his stillness.

And soon, the whole country speaks his name in fear, his apotheosis complete—a cursed plague upon mankind.

Sukuna welcomes the title. He renounces his humanity, denies it so fervently that even you begin to wonder if he truly believes it.

"You’re human," you tell him once.

He scoffs.

Could a human kill like he does? Maim like he does? Look like him? No—there is nothing human about him. So he thinks.

But the universe disagrees. It still calls him human. And because he is human, you tempt fate by daring to stay.

You defy your own nature, forsaking it in exchange for something fleeting—a life with him. A human life, a simple life. One where mornings are filled with your teasing remarks, your relentless chatter as you wipe the blood from his skin, scolding him like he’s anything less than the calamity the world sees him as.

Sukuna doesn’t acknowledge it, not explicitly. But sometimes, in the quiet, he looks at you like you are something unknowable. Like you have seen a future he refuses to believe in.

He’s right.

You know your time with him is limited. You know the universe will not tolerate your defiance forever. You know, with certainty, that this life you have chosen will end in tragedy.

And yet, to you, it is worth it.

Even as the years pass, even as four beautiful years slip through your hands like water, you never regret it.

Not even when the universe finally comes to collect.

You wander out from the estate that day, but you return later than usual.

Sukuna waits. Then waits some more.

When night falls, he exhales sharply, annoyed, and finally resigns himself to search for you.

There’s a weighted feeling in his chest. A whisper in his bones. It unsettles him, but he shoves it down, replaces it with irritation. Focuses instead on how he’ll admonish you when he finds you.

Probably off doing something stupid, unaware of how late it’s gotten.

The night stretches on. He pushes through the forest, frustration mounting—until suddenly, it is gone.

Because finally, he finds it.

At the base of a towering cliff, a massive boulder sits still, unmoving. And beneath it—a pair of legs stick out.

The sharp, metallic scent of blood floods his senses, sinking deep into his marrow, making his own pulse hammer against his skull. A feeling he hasn’t known in years swells inside him.

Fear.

"DISMANTLE."

The boulder shatters into dust.

And the feeling in his gut—the one he’s been ignoring all day, all night, all his life—finally takes him under.

Your body lies there. Mangled. Crushed beyond recognition.

But he knows. Even if his mind refuses, even if he does not want to believe it—he knows the scent of your blood. Whether you are fox or human, you have always bled the same blood.

Still, he refuses to accept it.

This cannot be you.

Because whoever this corpse is—they are dead.

And you?

You are not dead.

You cannot be dead.

Yet the body lies still. The air smells faintly of urine. The muscles, emptied of life, have already gone limp.

But it isn’t you. It can’t be you.

So he tells himself it must be someone else. Some other poor soul.

Then, his gaze catches on something small—glistening under the moonlight, peeking through the dust and blood.

A small, white ball.

@onwinedarkseas i finally finished this!!

[heizlut]

Closing the Distance

ꕀ cw: mention of blood/injury (nonsexual related)

ꕀ tags: fem!reader, inexperienced and possibly ooc!calcharo, oral f!receiving, first-time sex, breeding kink, creampie, mostly proofread

ꕀ nsfw under the cut

ꕀ m!list here

Calcharo didn't expect this at all. He only agreed to help you find and fight against the tacet discords that had sprung up from a particularly strong tacet field. But here you were, laying underneath him and looking up at him with big eyes, your chest heaving with heavy breaths and your lips looking quite inviting.

All he was trying to do was get you out of harm's way by practically tackling you to the ground and caging you in with his own body as the final tacet discord emitted an explosive energy as it was struck down. It wasn't anything special, he swears it's not.

You clear your throat awkwardly, blush evident on your cheeks, "You can uh... get off me now..." You avert your gaze, unable to properly look him in the eyes, not now, and not since you felt something particularly...hard brush against your stomach. Your words snap Calcharo out of his daze, heat rising to his own pale features, "Ah, y-yes. I apologize..." He moves off of you and stands up, extending his hand towards you to help you up as well.

You take it, pulling yourself up and let go abruptly, "Thanks for your help today." Calcharo looks down at his hand where the warmth of your touch still lingered, then curls it into a fist, "It was no problem." The air felt heavy and awkward. There was something bubbling up inside of him that felt wholly unfamiliar. He rolls his eyes at himself and he turns away from you. Why was he acting like this? As if he's never seen a pretty girl before... How pathetic.

He peeks over at you as you absorb the echoes, taking in your strong but soft form. Calcharo could at least admit he found you to be a strong fighter, you were part of the Ghost Hounds after all. He was familiar with you, so why was he feeling like this now. He's never had time to form a romantic relationship with anyone nor has he ever felt the need to. He had more important things to worry about than getting his dick wet and being all soft with someone.

You meet he gaze, noticing that he's staring at you again with his intense blue-grey eyes. You raise a brow as you walk back over to him, "What's the matter with you today? You seem off." Calcharo huffs, looking annoyed as he turns his face away from you and crosses his arms, his voice deep and monotone as usual, "I'm fine." You study him for a moment and then shrug, "Whatever you say. Let's get going." As you move past him, Calcharo notices your gait, "You're limping."

You freeze in your tracks, having hoped that whatever was bothering him would keep him distracted enough to not notice. He already did so much for you today, you wanted to handle your injury yourself. You feel his large hand on your shoulder as he stops beside you, "Why didn't you say anything?" You want to shrug off his hand, but you don't; instead you sigh, "It's not a big deal. Let's just-" "No", Calcharo cuts you off quickly, moving in front of you, "At least let me take a look."

"I don't think that's such a good idea...", you say a little softer than you had liked. Remaining stern and stoic as ever, Calcharo crosses his arms as he looks down at you, "And why would that be?" His question sounds icy and he must've realized it because he tone softens when he speaks again, "You're injured and I wouldn't be a very good leader if I didn't look out for another member." Thunder rumbles in the distance, a sure sign that a storm was on its way. You look down and then grab his arm, surprising him, "Fine. But let's not be out in the open..."

⌁ϟ༒︎ϟ⌁⌁ϟ༒︎ϟ⌁⌁ϟ༒︎ϟ⌁

If you hadn't been injured and limping, the two of you wouldn't be soaked from the rain you had gotten caught in. Slamming the wooden door shut of the run-down cabin you found in the woods, you immediately sink down onto the floor. "How did you know this place was...", Calcharo's voice trails off as his blue-grey eyes find the growing patch of blood on your upper thigh, immediately crouching down to your level.

His intense eyes take in your features, your face flushed red from a slight fever and a couple droplets of water run down your face to your neck. Calcharo's hand reaches for your wounded thigh before pausing, hovering right over the wound, "May I?" You grit your teeth and nod. With uncharacteristically shaky hands, he undoes your pants and helps you lift your hips off the ground as he lowers them. In his head, he repeats over and over that this is just to treat you. That's it!

But he can't help glancing at your cotton panties... There was nothing particularly special about them, but the way they hugged your hips, pressing close against your pussy underneath; it had him inadvertently licking his lips. Calcharo shakes his head and looks to the open cut on your thigh. He does his best to make sure his voice comes out even as he speaks, "It's not too deep. There's just a lot of blood from straining yourself." You point to your bag, "There's a first aid kit in there..."

With a single nod, he grabs the bag and rummages through it til his fingers brush against the small first aid box. He grabs it and mentally prepares himself to give you stitches while also trying so damn hard to stop from popping a boner at the sight of you.

You were injured, for fucks sake! Now wasn't the time to suddenly sprout inappropriate thoughts that he had never had an issue with before. Sensing his hesitation, you practically snatch the kit from his hands, making him blink in shock.

Though flushed with a bit of a fever, drenched from the rain, and injured, you still have the nerve to narrow your eyes at him, "I can do it myself." His jaw hangs open for a moment but he quickly shuts it, returning to his usual cold demeanor, "Fine." He sits back, watching as you thread the curved needle and piece your own flesh as you stitch yourself up. Mentally he cringes on your behalf, but you barely react as your skin closes with the thread.

If anything, seeing just how strong you are, not just physically, but mentally, it makes things even harder for him, quite literally. His cock throbs in his pants and he presses down on it, willing it to just go the fuck away. After tying up the thread and cleaning off the remaining blood, you look his way, noticing his hands pressing down in his lap and you raise a brow, a weak smirk playing on your lips, "Are you seriously hard right now?"

Calcharo's eyes flick to yours, all wide-eyed as he looks at you, then he frowns and looks away, "No, I'm not." You breathe out a laugh that does nothing to help the ache in his pants, "Really? Then move your hands." Calcharo grimaces, his nose scrunched in what looks similar to a snarling dog, "I don't want to." You just shrug, looking amused albeit still a bit weak from your condition, "Suit yourself then. It just looks like you're having a bit of a rough time."

He turns his body away from you, not wanting to listen to anymore of your teasing. "It wouldn't be very nice of me to not show my gratitude to my leader for helping me so much today...", you trail off with a teasing lilt in your voice. Calcharo straightens up and peeks at your over his shoulder, "What do you mean...'show your gratitude'?" Hook, line, and sinker. You put on a more nonchalant look and sigh heavily, "I'm simply saying that since you helped me out..." You look into his eyes again, "I could help you out as well."

Too many thoughts race through Calcharo's mind. How could he even take you up on that offer, especially when you're injured. Especially since he shouldn't be having thoughts like this. Especially because you were special to him. Wait... You were... special to him? When did he feel this way towards you? I mean, sure he always went with you whenever you were itching for a fight and he did talk with you a little more frequently than the others, albeit not too much.

You can tell his mind is racing, so you lean forward, ignoring the bit of pain in your wounded thigh, and place your hand on his shoulder, "Just quit thinking, Calcharo." Your hushed voice and hot breath fan across his ear, sending tingles straight down to his cock. Fuck it. He turns around and faces you once more, his face close to yours as he speaks low and deep, "I don't want to hurt you." His eyes are on yours, but yours are on his lips as you speak again, "You won't."

Before he can protest again, your lips are on his in a soft, but demanding kiss. Calcharo is frozen for a moment, having never done this before. Hell, he's never done anything romantic or sexual in the past. But the plush softness of your lips on his has him beginning to melt. He returns the kiss hesitantly at first, but once he finds the right rhythm with you, he finds himself leaning into you more. His hands are on your flushed cheeks and your heat radiates into his palms.

Your tongue prods his lower lip, begging for entrance to which he allows, parting his lips as you tongue slips in and moves against his. It's a slippery feeling, but you taste so sweet.

Without having realized it, Calcharo has you caged in underneath him yet again, although this time is was special. Your legs are spread to accommodate his body between your legs and your fingers are tangled in his wet, but long silver hair.

Your lips brush against his, "As much as I'd like to help and take things over, my injury-" Calcharo cuts you off with a kiss, "I know. Tell me what to do and I'll do it." His voice sounds husky and breathless, needy for more of you. You grab his hand and place it on your breast, making his breath hitch, "You can touch me."

He looks down at where his hand rests on your breast, taking in the way it fills his palm so perfectly, and he squeezes lightly. Truthfully, he wants your shirt off so he can feel the soft skin against his own calloused hands.

Calcharo's eyes go to yours and his fingers hover over the buttons of your shirt, "May I?" You chuckle a little at his formality, "Please do." With your affirmation, he unbuttons your shirt, tugging the material gently down your shoulders. He takes in the sight of you under him in just a bra and panties. You truly were a sight to see. Without asking for permission again, he fumbles with the clasp of your bra before eventually unhooking it and sliding it off.

Calcharo licks his lips again when he finally sees your bare breasts, so round and perfect. His hand makes its way back to your breasts, gently palming them. His thumb flicks over your nipple, making you draw in a breath. His gaze break away from your chest and back up to your face in alarm, "Did I hurt you?" You smile tiredly at him and shake your head, "No, it felt good." Calcharo visibly relaxes and returns his attention back to your chest.

Leaning down, he captures one of your nipples in his mouth, his tongue sliding over the pert bud as you let out a soft sounding moan. His eyes flit up to watch your reactions as he continues with his ministrations. All he wants is for you to feel good even if he's not entirely sure what he's doing. But from the look on your face, your lips parted and brows knitted together, he can tell he's doing well so far and that's all he needs to know to keep going.

Calcharo presses little kisses from your breasts, to your stomach, then pauses above your covered cunt. Without a word, you shakily raise your hips, signalling him to remove your panties and continue on. He bites his lip, nervous as hell, but he didn't know when he would get an opportunity like this again. So he slides your panties down, ever so careful to not have the material rub against your wound on it's way down your legs.

With you panties off and your pussy now exposed to him, Calcharo feels like he's in a daze. You raise your hips yet again with a raised brow, "Well? Haven't you done this before?" Calcharo looks away from you, not wanting to confirm nor deny, feeling too embarrassed to say you were his first everything.

Your sweet voice pulls him back in, "You're so unlike yourself right now. Where'd my confident leader go, huh?" You were only half teasing as you spoke, just wanting him to move on from your first quip.

Hearing you call him your leader stirs something inside of him. Calcharo feels like he has something to prove. You were right, he did everything with a cold confidence, so he could certainly do this. Calcharo lowers himself to your pussy, his lips so close to touching. With a quick look back up to you, he lightly licks at your clit. It's experimental at first, just small little licks to test out your reaction. But once he sees how turned on you are, he dives right in.

It's sloppy and wet, but Calcharo has no intention of stopping now. His tongue prods and licks at your entrance, lapping up your arousal as it coats his tongue. His cock twitches as he mindlessly grinds against the floor. Your beautiful moans and shaky breaths only spur him on and make him feel even more brave. His calloused thumb rubs at your clit in time with his tongue lashing between your folds.

Your hands fly to his hair, pressing his mouth further into your pussy as you cry out his name, "C-calcharo! 'm cumming-ngh!" The taste of you flooded his senses and he simply could not get enough. He grips your hips, keeping his mouth latched onto your soaked cunt as though it was his first and last meal he'd ever have, groaning as if he were the one on the receiving end. You try to push his face away, "S-stop! Too much-ngh!- 'm sensitive!"

Calcharo knew he should stop, but your moans and the way your arousal flowed from you was way too delicious. His tongue flicks over you clit once more, making your legs shake as you moan loudly, releasing on his tongue once more. Finally being merciful, Calcharo removes his mouth from your pussy, your juices and his own saliva glisten on his lips and chin, but he doesn't have a care in the world right in this moment.

Your breasts move in time with your heavy breathing and you narrow your eyes up at him, "You're so lucky I'm injured right now..." Calcharo's eyebrows furrow, cocking his head to the side slightly, "But you liked it." You can't keep your glare when he's looking at you like some confused puppy, although quite the scary looking puppy... You look down, spotting the wet patch on his pants, "Just take your pants off. It looks like your cock is ready to burst."

Calcharo's eyes widen at your straightforwardness, but he immediately schools his expression, "...Right." He undoes his belt harness, letting it drop to the floor with a soft clank of the metal. Next, he pops open the button of his pants and lowers the zipper, tugging his pants and briefs down just enough to free his cock. His cock springs forward, large and veiny, twitching and leaking profusely.

You're in awe of his size and if you had known he was packing that much down there, you would've intentionally tried to get yourself in this situation much sooner. With one hand, he holds his aching cock and covers his face with the other, "Why are you staring so intensely?" Seeing the state he's in makes you laugh. The sound of it makes his length twitch and he peeks at you through his fingers, sounding a bit annoyed, "What's so amusing to you?"

You give him a genuine, yet cheeky smile, "I just... Never thought I'd see such an intimidating guy like yourself get so flustered." Calcharo groans at your teasing remark and lowers his hand from his face, his other hand absentmindedly stroking his cock, "Enough of your teasing."

You spread your legs a little more, careful not to strain your injury, "By all means, please continue. I promise I won't tease you anymore." "Hmph...", Calcharo does his best to look displeased, but there's too much longing and desperation in his eyes for it to be even remotely convincing.

He lines his leaking tip up with your awaiting entrance, but pauses, "Just tell me if it's too much, alright?" With a nod from you, pressure begins to build as he pushes his length slowly inside of your tight, wet cunt.

Cacharo's face scrunches with pleasure and he sucks in a breath, the feeling of being inside of you, inside of anyone for the first time has him struggling not to cum right then and there. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him down to you, speaking softly, "It's okay. You can move now."

He whines at the affirmation and begins to thrust slowly, trying to keep himself calm so as to not cum immediately or hurt you from going too hard too fast. His muscular arms cage you in and his silver hair cascades over his shoulders.

His blue-grey eyes lock on yours as he keeps his steady pace. Calcharo's voice is strained when he speaks through gritted teeth, "This feels too good..." He groans as his hips make contact with yours, his cock pressing deep inside of you.

You press a kiss to the corner of his lips, whispering against them, "Then keep going." Calcharo's cock jumps inside of you and he starts thrusting a little faster, a little harder, "F-fuck..." He kisses you deeply, his tongue tangling with yours as his cock fucks into you. All you both can do is whimper and moan between relentless kisses as he comes closer and closer to orgasm.

His thoughts are only on how fucking good you tight pussy feels squeezing around his cock and how badly he wants to breed you with his cum. Gods, what he wouldn't do to see your stomach growing round with his kids.

Fuck, what the hell is even thinking right now. He can't even own a dog, let alone raise a kid, it was too dangerous. But your pussy and your hold on him was way more dangerous to him. He had to keep going.

Calcharo growls out a low groan, "I'm gonna cum -fuck- take it all. Please, please take it -ngh- all!" With a harsh, deep thrust, he releases his warm seed inside of you. His cock throbbing as his cum pours from his tip and the excess drips down to the floor.

He presses his sweaty forehead against yours, the heat from your fever seeping into his skin. Fuck, you had a fever and were injured... He pulls out of you, making you whimper at the feeling of emptiness.

His eyes flick over to your stitched wound, eyes wide as he sees some of the stitches had popped open and fresh blood was trickling down the side of your thigh, "I-I apologize. I shouldn't have-mmph!" Your lips on his shuts him up and when you pull away, you only smile tiredly at him, "I'm fine. Quit worrying about me." Calcharo's expression shows just how much he's struggling with all of this. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt you or make anything worse.

You tug a strand of his long, silver hair, bringing his attention back to you, "If you really feel that bad then I guess you'll have to make it up to me another time." Calcharo's eyebrows furrow, but then his expression softens slightly, "Of course. As your leader, I-" You cut him off quickly, "No, not so much as my leader. But as my partner. How does that sound?"

He's stunned for a moment but then clears his throat, trying to keep his typical brooding expression, "We can't. I don't want you to get hurt." You roll your eyes and look up at him, speaking in a resolute tone, "This is different. I'm not just some civilian, I'm part of the Ghost Hounds just like you. I can handle whatever danger comes my way or else I wouldn't be here right now." Calcharo processes your words for a second, then sighs, "Fine. But don't say I didn't warn you."

Your expression brightens, "I'm pretty sure that's similar to what you said to me when I first joined." Calcharo rolls his eyes as he gathers your clothes and his, "Whatever. I meant it as much then as I do now." You just breathe a small laugh, "Of course. I think we'll be just fine."

⌁ϟ༒︎ϟ⌁⌁ϟ༒︎ϟ⌁⌁ϟ༒︎ϟ⌁⌁ϟ

a/n: calcharo is a cutie patootie under that tough exterior, i just know it🥺

[applejuicebegood]

Jason Showing his Love for You

Fem!Reader

Masterlist

Sharing. Sharing his jackets, his cologne, his food - he loves sharing the intimate material aspects of his life. You'll mention being thirsty whilst you guys are walking through the park and he's already uncapping his water bottle for you. You complain to him that your workplace doesn't have proper heating for the winter month and he's already packing one of his hoodies and some hand-warmers in your bag.

Big 'Act's of service' kinda guy. Adores making you dinner and memorising your favourite recipes (you have bought him this red apron from the local farmers market with a robin feather on the front pocket and he immediately asked you if he could have your ring size). Has a small box under the stove of both of your favourite meals written on small cue cards.

Carries your bags if you're out shopping or if he's walking you home from work.

If you're feeling tense or overly exhausted, he always offers a massage. He finds it that much more intimate and loving. To dip and press his fingers into the knots tightening your soft flesh and to hear your groan and sigh in relief, it's a reminder to him that his body doesn't always have to be used for violence and the installation of fear. It can be used as a source of comfort and release - as evident when you pull him down against your chest, after he's put away the lotion, to lay on top of you like a big weighted blanket.

He'll take pictures of flowers and sunsets over water and send them to you randomly throughout the week with the fallow up text being something like 'reminded me of you' 'it looked like your eye-colour'.

Besides that, his camera roll is mostly just you. Pictures of you asleep on his chest or in the middle of the biggest fit of laughter. He's got a few polaroids stashed in his wallet of you that he pulls out on week-long missions with his brothers. To remind himself that he's got something to get back to.

He'll always tie your shoes if the laces come undone or helps you stand up in heels. He's always worried about you if the two of you are at one of his Dad's galla's (for many reasons not included) and your in heels - because he knows how painful it can get. Once you guys get back to your house, he would sweep you into his arms after you've kicked off your heels just so you wouldn't have to stand and stumble for a second longer.

Helps take off your jewelry and makeup as you help him out of his suite.

Listens to your playlists and favourite albums so that you guys can sing along together during late night baking attempts.

You guys have a shared record collection that you started when for your anniversary you got him a record player. He likes to be supper corny some nights and dance with you as one of your favourite albums plays.

He'll be very casual about how extraordinary he treats you. He considers it expected instead of the exception. Because you were able to love him back to life, so why shouldn't you deserve only the best from him?

[bunji-enthusiast]

Note // ideas…. Multiple. Motivation? None. But the fluff is there and it is rotting me. imagine if your the only other person that Serrat allows you to be in close vicinity with.

It was strange really, the only one Serrat genuinely listened to was The Slayer.

Yet here the augmented dragon was, cuddling up to you at your accidental behest. you were fairly confused, but almost tinged with half-hearted amusement. you almost felt honored in a way, to see that he was so willing to let you touch him as his master would. however, the real mystery that plagued you, is the why.

Why would Serrat so willingly be up close and personal with you? it was obvious that reprieve was left up to the man himself. You really only had come to the creature's den with the intent of repairing some of the machinery Serrat lugs around due to damages the dragon had incurred during the last siege upon the land. Obviously you had stayed way later past your intended session, but then you heard low growling emitting from Serrat's throat. So out of curiosity, you cautiously approached a few steps with one question.

"Is... something wrong?" you asked, your tone laced with concern--wondering if perhaps Serrat was injured somehow. You angle your head, trying to look for any possible wounds or cuts on his body. He merely growls, a lighter undercurrent evident. Serrat lowers his head, his one good eye flickering over to you, it was hard to see beneath the metallic mask he adorns; but it was noticeable. It pulses with red, an apparent trait.

And for a moment, you take the time to briefly admire Serrat. All the machinery, the metal gauntlets on his front legs, the scar that disabled his left eye. But he still stands strong, still so firm and ready to fight. Serrat was a lot like The Slayer in that way, you could see why they bond so well together. They were well prepared and ready to die for one another, ready to protect each other.

Admittedly, you envied them for such a thing. But it was an envy you wished not to serve, and instead locked it away. Instead you chose to admire it, and learn from it.

You carried your own issues, your own tears and grievances for yourself. But with Serrat, you could in a way, just be. Even if initially, you dared not to approach him without any sight of permission, or the quick scuttling from and to when you repaired the parts that became so engraved within the dragon's appearance.

You ran solo, on your own. You who bore the great knowledge of combining the care of machine and scaly flesh--and maintaining it as well. While your connection with the Slayer was grotesque and at most, gentle, you found solace in just merely being alone. Inwardly, you grew fond of his augmented companion. Even talking to the great creature without prepense or compensation from the other. There was thoughts and imagination, wondering just how much Serrat experienced and endured, even long before he met the man in green armor.

In the midst of your mind, a soft growl rips you from your transparent reminiscing, leaving you to be somewhat surprised as Serrat nudges your human body. A stark contrast between both beings, an easy reminder. Even now, something wrenches your heart, as if you could understand him. "I'm alright, but are you truly injured?" You twist the concern, and the dragon only settles for laying down, encircling his body upon your immediate area.

That action surprises you, leaving to yelp under the weight of mass flesh cuddling your own. Serrat runs hot, and temperamentally cold due to his metal armor. A median really, and it was nice.

You shake your head out of your train of thoughts, you were so confused. Why was he being so comfortable with you like this? For a moment it amused you, but now you were just plagued with confusion. "Why?" you ask, as if you almost expected Serrat to give you a verbal and concise answer. In return, you only heard a low groan, the sound rumbling your body. You almost shivered at the contact, sighing in mortal defeat.

Serrat couldn't speak, but many things could be said, particularly without the proprietary measures of vocalization. As for the dragon, and for some, it was a burden to bear. One they chose to discard.

You did not blame Serrat in that regard, or any of them.

Not even The Slayer.

However, it made you think at times. How much it was worth to forsake the novelty of vocal language. Perhaps it was really time for you to learn from Serrat, and that had begun right now.

Despite your own realization, you felt something hinder at the reaches of your awakeness. Tiredness ebbs at your eyelids, and without warning, it claims you to the chambers of sleep.

Serrat takes notice, a low—I nterceptible rumble wavering from his throat as he curls up around you closer, following you in sleep.

For the first time since then, you've actually slept well.

[methylholicbm]

CHAPTER 1 | FIXATION | BRIAN MOSER

Description: Crime scene cleanup isn’t glamorous, but it pays the bills—and it keeps you close to the mess. When you're called to a lifeless body in a pool, you're expecting a routine assignment. What you get is Dexter Morgan: unreadable, clinical, oddly magnetic. The scene is sterile. No blood. So why does it cling to you? Word Count: 1k (a little over)

༺♱༻

"You're all standing around debating the head wound, and no one thought to check the pulse?"

I dropped my bag with a dull thud beside the body, crouching low enough for my fingertips to press gently into the still-warm blood puddling on the tile. A broken mug lay nearby, soaked in wet shades of deep red.

"That's not your job, cleanup girl," Doakes snapped from somewhere behind me, his arms crossed like always, his voice heavy with whatever pent-up angst a cop like him would have.

I didn't look at him. Didn't need to.

"No," I muttered, brushing hair out of my face with the back of a glove. "I'd just rather not have a corpse lunge at me. That's normal, right?"

He huffed something under his breath about "goddamn weirdos" and stalked off, probably to go grunt at someone else who didn't deserve it.

I stayed there, crouched by the body, eyes half-lidded and dry, like I hadn't quite woken up yet. The man's face was still frozen mid-expression—shocked or scared, I couldn't tell.

I've seen worse.

Dexter passed me, staring down at his gloves, before someone's voice cut through the air. "Morgan L/N. There's a body at The Seven Seas Motel." Dexter pauses and looks down at me and back up at them before taking off. I shrug and catch up to him before he can fully leave the scene.

"Hey—Dexter, right? Mind if I catch a ride? Since we're going to the same place anyway." He looks at me for a moment. He's probably asking himself why I can't just drive there myself. I hope he doesn't ask. I can't tell what he's thinking, but something is turning his mental gears. "I won't talk, promise," I add jokingly.

He half smiles, I think, and leads me to his car. The car ride is eerily silent. I try to look around, but I'm afraid that he'll think I'm looking for something if I do, so instead I keep my eyes fixated on the road and rub my fingers against a small area of my throat.

Dexter glances over at me, but if he has something to tell me, he doesn't say it out loud. We whip past the slums of deep Miami, empty alleyways still managing to look haunting even during dawn, overweight older men flashing their gold teeth and rotten gums, slender sexy ladies flipping their hair or throwing themselves at the nearest Porsche, and finally, a big-ass crime scene at a tacky motel.

Dexter and I make our way out of the car and through the piling of cops outside, pulling black vinyl gloves on, until he's stopped by Vince, or as everyone else knows him, Masuka. "What are you doing here?" He says to Dexter, who looks at him pointedly, like he was waiting for Masuka to realize how dumb that sounded.

"It's a crime scene?" Dexter says.

"Yeah, but there's no blood."

For a second, I believe Dex zoned out, his facial muscles contorting ever so slightly before returning to normal, something unreadable beneath his calm exterior. "Are you okay?" I ask him, and he quickly looks at me and then back at Masuka, who leads both of us to the body. He and Angel lift the cover over the body, revealing pieces of flesh completely drained of all of its blood.

I look over the body parts that aren't fully wrapped for evidence yet.

"How does a killer get rid of all the blood..." Dexter says haphazardly out loud, like he meant to say it in his head.

"It's hard to say, especially since the body is in good shape." Angel retorts.

"No prints either," Masuka says, further adding to the confusion.

"It's very clean. Near surgical cuts... looks like he didn't have time to finish though." I say, pointing to the unfinished cut on the victim's upper left thigh.

"Right. Which means it's possible he was interrupted. LaGuerta's working on finding a witness." Angel says.

I look over my shoulder at LaGuerta fraternizing with other cops and some reporters just itching to find a way in. I walk away from the scene to go and look around the rest of the motel.

I peek into any window, seeing if it's possible that someone could've seen something from their bedroom, but all I'm met with are off-white, barely even white actually, blinds with untouched rings of dust on them. I get to a half-open door and push it open to see a taller woman that I recognize seeing once or twice but have never actually had a real conversation with. "Don't look at me like that. It's a disguise." She says. Officer Debra Morgan.

"I wasn't going to question you, Debra." I say, leaning on the doorframe. She's a little taller than me with her heels on and has this air of confidence wafting around her. She meets my eyes, at first with a snarky look, and then she laughs.

"Well, you never fucking know, you know?" She says, blowing an exhale of smoke out as she speaks. Her heels clack on the grimy, off-white linoleum as she switches her weight onto her other foot. "Who are you anyways? One of LaGuerta's?"

I crack a smile at her. "As if I'd be caught dead running orders for anyone at Miami Metro. I'm simply just a TCST. Y/N L/N. However, I've been working closely with you guys as of late; Miami is just more lively than my home office in Ft. Lauderdale." She ashes out her cigarette in an ashtray and comes to stand by me. I turn, and we both look out at the crime scene unfolding before us.

"I haven't seen you up until now." She says to me.

"I lurk. Quiet. I don't like drawing too much attention to myself, you know? It puts you in a position of vulnerability." I say coolly, not noticing how weird that sounds to just say out loud to someone. Instead of being thrown off, however, Debra just smiles at me and walks off to the rest of the officers.

"You're right." She says, not turning to look back at me, and then she disappears into the clutter of cops.

I catch Dexter before he manages to leave. "Could you drop me home?" I see his face; it says, 'Not really, I don't even know who you are.' But his mouth comes out with a different set of words.

"Sure," he says, but the hesitation in his voice sounds louder than the word itself.

༺♱༻

✦ ⛧ Masterlist ⛧ ✦

[yoongissweetdream]

Love Remains - Hongjoong

Pairing: Demon!Kim Hongjoong x Mum!reader

Requested by: No one. Part 2 of Demon with a Heart

Warnings: alludes to murder, being a demon, cheesy love is the answer trope

Wordcount: 2,150

Requests: CLOSED until May or June

Tag List: Open. Tag List Form

Hongjoong Masterlist | ATEEZ Masterlist | Taglist Sign-Up

© 2025 yoongisssweetdream - do not copy/modify/repost anywhere. reblog instead.

For the fifth time this month, Hongjoong finds himself standing just outside the park only a block away from the home of Y/N and Yu-jun. He stays concealed, hidden in the shadows as his gaze is fixed on the heartwarming scene unfolding just a few meters away. He observes Yu-jun, who seems to have found his courage, bravely climbs to the top of the slide on his own. A week ago it was impossible for Yu-jun to go up there alone, afraid of being high up on his own. His eyes then drift to Y/N as she stands at the bottom of the slide, tears of joy in her eyes, pride evident on her face as she shouts words of encouragement and enthusiastically cheers on her son.  

"You've got this, Junnie!" she cheers, her words drifting across the park. Hongjoong's focus shifts back to his son, watching as he sits down and takes a moment before pushing himself down the slide. The demon feels a wave of warmth and pride overcome him seeing Yu-jun conquer his fear of the slide.  

“Woohoo!” Y/N exclaims, throwing her arms in the air, cheering for him and Hongjoong can’t help but smile at the sheer delight radiating from her. Yu-jun jumps beams with pride before hurrying back up the steps to go down the ladder again.  

Suddenly, Y/N turns her head slightly, as if sensing someone watching. For a brief moment, their eyes meet across the park, and Hongjoong feels his breath catch in his throat. There’s a flicker of recognition in her gaze, but it quickly fades as she returns her attention to Yu-jun. For the first time since his death, there's a pain in his chest.  

A grunt leaves his lips as he falls to his knee, placing a hand over where his beating heart once use to be and tightly clutches his shirt. A rush of memories fill his head. Memories of him and Y/N from when they were kids to their untimely deaths, the laughter they shared as well as the tears. He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to block out the pain that stings his heart but the pain only gets worse as he falls into a dark abyss.  

When he opens his eyes, he's in pitch black room. The feeling in the room is heavy as the darkness wraps around him like a blanket. Visions of what could have been flash before his eyes—moments filled with laughter and love, fleeting moments shared with Y/N and Yu-jun.  

"Where am I?" he calls out, his voice echoing in the darkness. In all the years of being a demon, this place seemed unfamiliar. The silence that followed his question felt oppressive, as if the darkness itself was holding its breath. "Am I here because of them?" he continues to question the abyss, hoping for some kind of answer. The darkness remained silent, wrapping around him like a heavy fog. Hongjoong felt the weight of his own thoughts pressing down, each vision flashing before him like a flickering light. He could see Y/N's smile, the way her eyes sparkled when she laughed, and Yu-jun’s innocence. 

“Someone answer me!” he called out again, desperation creeping into his voice.

In the midst of the void, a faint glow began to emerge in front of him. It was a soft light that pulsed gently like a heartbeat. The light began to expand and illuminate parts of his surroundings. The visions began swirling around him like leaves caught in a gentle breeze until it stopped on one.  

Y/N unfolds a picnic blanket and lays it on the ground before sitting on it and started scrolling on her phone. She looks up occasionally as if expecting someone to arrive. It takes Hongjoong a moment to realize Yu-jun isn't wits her and begins to question why he isn't there. Hongjoong's heart ached as he watched Y/N sit there alone. The sight of her by herself felt wrong, as if a piece of the puzzle was missing. He looks around, hoping for any indication of Yu-jun's presence. Where could his son be? Just as he thought that, Yu-jun's voice was heard.  

"Eomma!" Hongjoong hears the five-year old shout and turns in the direction his voice came from. Yu-jun is walking through the park, holding onto someone's hand.  

"What's happening," Hongjoong gasps, seeing himself with his son. He watches in awe, his heart swelling with longing. He sees himself—alive and well—walking alongside Yu-jun, who is practically bouncing with excitement. The little boy's laughter fills the air, a sound so pure it brings warmth to the cold darkness surrounding him. Y/N’s looks up from her phone, her face instantly lighting up as she stands up to greet them, hugging them both and placing a kiss on the top of Yu-jun's head before pecking vision Hongjoong's lips with a smile on hers and nothing but love for them in her eyes.  

"This is how it should be," Hongjoong mumbles to himself as he watches what should have been settle on the blanket and unpack the food that was brought.  

"Is this what you really want?" A feminine voice spoke from behind him. He turns around to find an older woman, dressed in white robes.

Hongjoong blinked, momentarily taken aback by the sudden appearance of the woman. Her presence felt both calming and unsettling, as if she belonged to this realm yet was entirely foreign to him. The ethereal glow surrounding her made it hard to focus on her features, but there was a warmth in her eyes that seemed to understand his pain. 

“Who are you?” he asked cautiously, still mesmerized by the scene playing out before him. 

The woman stepped closer, her movements graceful as if she were gliding through the darkness. “I am a guide for souls like yours,” she replied softly.  

"I don't have a soul," Hongjoong tells her. "I gave mine away a long time ago." 

"I know," she says with a knowing smile. "You say you gave it up to make sure her murderer rotted in hell for eternity but if you were to tell the truth you would say you did it to protect her. You wanted to make sure history would never repeat itself. But, because of that, you yourself have never been able to reincarnate and the moments you did share as demon and human are nothing but a forgotten memory." 

Hongjoong’s heart aches at her words, each syllable piercing through the fog of his despair. “But I couldn’t let him hurt her again,” he protested weakly, his voice barely above a whisper as he's reminded of the incident that lead to his cruel fate. “I thought I was protecting her." 

The woman nodded, her expression softening. “And you did protect her in a way, but at what cost? Your deal with the devil has kept you bound to this darkness.” 

He turned back to the scene before him, watching Y/N smile as Yu-jun showed her and vision Hongjoong a new trick that he had learned. The joy on their faces made his chest tighten. “I should be there with them,” he murmured. 

“What's stopping you?” the woman asked gently, stepping closer until the light around her enveloped him too. He felt warmth seep into his bones—a stark contrast to the cold void that had surrounded him moments ago. 

“I’m not worthy anymore," he says, reminding himself of all the hurt and chaos he's caused since becoming a demon.  

“You still possess love," she tells him, her voice soft but firm. "Your love for her is why you never truly gave into your demon side." 

Hongjoong felt a flicker of hope ignite within him at her words. “Love?” he echoed, his voice trembling slightly. “Is that really enough to change everything?” 

“Love is the most powerful force in the universe," she reminds him. "It has the ability to transcend even the darkest of fates. You may have chosen a path filled with pain, loneliness and regret, but your heart still beats for her... for them. Your love remains untainted.” 

He turned back to watch Y/N and Yu-jun, their laughter ringing through the air like music. The sight of them together  continues to make his heart ache with longing, yet he couldn’t shake off the feeling of guilt that wrapped around him like chains. 

Hongjoong sigh's, almost defeated. “How can I possibly be a part of their lives?” 

“All it takes is forgiveness— of those who have wronged you and most importantly, of yourself," she answers him. 

Hongjoong furrowed his brow as he considered her words. Could he forgive the monster who took her from him all those decades ago? Could he forgive himself for making a deal that cost him from reincarnating with her? His mind raced. Forgiveness felt like a mountain too steep to climb, yet in that moment, standing amidst the swirling darkness and watching what could be, he sensed a flicker of possibility. Could he really take that step? 

“Forgive myself?” he repeated, almost incredulously. “After everything I’ve done?” 

The woman nodded gently, her eyes shimmering with understanding. “You must remember that you were driven by love. That intention holds power.” 

Hongjoong turned back toward the scene playing out before him, where Y/N was now in vision Hongjoongs arms, while Yu-jun rests his head on her lap as she runs her fingers through his hair.  

“What if they don’t recognize me? What if my past comes back to haunt them?” He clenched his fists in frustration, fear clawing at his heart. 

“Then you show them how much you've changed,” she encouraged softly. “You have the chance to create new memories—ones filled with joy and love instead of pain and regret.” 

Hongjoong felt something shift inside himself. He closes his eyes, his thoughts going to he person who killed Y/N and the horrific moment he discovered her bruised and bloody body. A tear slips down his cheek, finding it in himself to forgive the monster as well as himself for not being there to save her. After a moment it changes to Yu-jun's and his brave little face lighting up each time he went down the slide, conquering his fear and then to Y/N and how she would smile so brightly it seemed like sunshine itself radiated from her. He brings himself to forgive himself for everything that's happened up until now. He feels himself become light, as if a weight has been removed from his shoulders. 

As the warmth spread through him, the darkness around him begins to dissolve. With each moment that passed, he could feel the remnants of his past slipping away, replaced by a flicker of hope and determination. Taking a deep breath his eyes flutter open and he finds himself standing at the edge of the park, just where he had been before—watching Y/N and Yu-jun. But this time, everything felt different. The colors around him seemed more vibrant, the laughter of his son echoed like music in his ears, and Y/N’s smile shone with an inviting warmth that beckoned him closer. 

“Eomma! Look!” Yu-jun exclaimed, his voice filled with pure joy as he stops what he's doing and points towards Hongjoong. "Appa's here!" 

Hongjoong’s heart raced as he took a step forward. The sight of Yu-jun pointing at him filled him with an overwhelming mix of excitement and nervousness.  

“Appa!” Yu-jun shouted again, his voice ringing out like a sweet melody that tugged at Hongjoong’s soul. The little boy's eyes sparkled with pure delight as he ran towards his father. Hongjoong kneels down to Yu-jun's level, engulfing him in his arms after the kid throws himself at him. 

Y/N turned her gaze toward him, her expression shifting from surprise to joy as recognition dawned on her face. Hongjoong lifts Yu-jun, keeping him in his arms and carries him to where Y/N is standing, waiting for them. As soon as he reaches her, he wraps an arm around her waist and pulls her close to him, pressing a kiss to her lips. "I've missed you," he says barely above a whisper. "I love you," he adds, his voice a little louder. 

"I love you too," Y/N smiles pressing another kiss to his lips. 

"I love you too," Yu-jun repeats and places a sloppy kiss to his dads cheek, earning a laugh from both his parents to laugh. “Can we go on the slide again?” Yu-jun then asked excitedly, his little face beaming with anticipation. "I wanna show Appa that I can do it by myself!" He wiggles himself out of Hongjoong's arms, running towards the ladder that leads to the slide. 

As Yu-jun readies himself to go down the slide, Hongjoong glances at Y/N. Her eyes sparkle with a mixture of love and pride as she watches their son, and in that moment, he knows he's where he's supposed to be. 

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[yuesya]

The first thing that registers to her is the soft sigh of a quiet breeze. A faint caress upon her cheek, the feather-light touch of the ever-present wind.

Balor opens her eyes.

… The surroundings are unfamiliar. A furnished room, clean and simple, but not one that she recognizes. The style is somewhat reminiscent of the traveler’s inn that she’d briefly stayed in, though. That night, she’d been caught standing out in the rain by a well-meaning pair of mortals, who’d caught sight of her and promptly ushered her inside their inn to take refuge.

So… she is most likely still in the southern lands, then.

Decarabian had once spoken of traveling through the different countries of Teyvat. But unfortunately that was not to be; the God of Storms ultimately vanished and became one with the winds, leaving Balor to walk the lands on her own.

And so, she’d left the northern valleys. One day, she’d come back to see the cecilias where they once lived together. But for now, she would travel the lands in Decarabian’s place.

Balor already knew that wolves ruled the east, and she held no interest in challenging the Beast King who claimed dominion over the territory. So she’d ended up wandering southwards instead, and…

… she had not expected to end up fighting another god anyways. Two gods, actually. But the Mistress of Dreams should not have attempted to lay claim over Decarabian’s name, and the Sea Snake should not have broken first her barrier, and then her bow.

The last thing that Balor remembers… is fighting with the Sea Snake. The Geo god had fought alongside her, and together they’d cut off five of the Sea Snake’s heads–

But they hadn’t killed it, had they?

At the very end, Balor recalls being thrown back by an explosive force as the Sea Snake made its escape into the waters. She recalls falling, and being caught in a swirl of Anemo…

… no. Not Decarabian’s Anemo energy.

Balor tilts her head, looking to her left. There’s another person by her bedside –the unnamed bird spirit that she’d released from the compulsion of the Dream-god. For some reason, even though there’s another bed in the room, he’s asleep in a sitting position on the ground beside her. One arm is curled over a half-bent knee as he sits upright with his back against the wall.

And beneath her gaze, the bird spirit’s eyes flutter open.

“You’re awake,” he breathes. “Master–”

“I’m not your master.���

The bird spirit hesitates, and falls silent.

Balor takes a brief moment to reflect on herself. Had her tone been too harsh?

“… I’m not your master.” The Mistress of Dreams may have enjoyed being a ‘Master,’ but Balor does not share the same interests as that fool of a god. Going by the state that the bird spirit had appeared in, and the terrible condition of the other thralls… that god of theirs must not have treated any of them kindly. 

Decarabian was cold, but he had been a kind god. 

“The Mistress of Dreams is dead,” she says to the bird spirit. “You are beholden to no one now. So, you shouldn’t address me as ‘Master.’”

“… Then how should I address you?”

“Decarabian.”

Because she’s currently traveling in memory of Decarabian, and because she doesn’t wish for her god’s name to be forgotten… this is the name that Balor has chosen to go by. As if by doing this, then Decarabian is still with her, and the two of them are traveling together again.

There’s a look of faint confusion on the bird spirit’s face. He knows that it’s not her name, because it’s the very same name that the Mistress of Dreams had tried and failed to chain her down by.

“You may address me as Decarabian,” she repeats herself. “And you? What’s your name?”

It’s evidently the wrong question to ask. The bird spirit stiffens and flinches almost reflexively, which is a strange reaction to–

Ah. The Dream-god had attempted to trap Balor using her name. What were the odds that this was how she’d forced the bird spirit into her service? It certainly hadn’t seemed like he’d fought for her willingly, now that she thinks back on the experience…

… and yet, somehow, he’d been willing to stay by Balor’s side when she’d fought the Sea Serpent.

Balor doesn’t understand it, this perplexing loyalty that she’s been given despite having done nothing to earn it in the first place. Not unless one counts killing the Dream-god, but she hadn’t exactly killed the god for this bird spirit. It’s not a reason for the bird spirit to suddenly change loyalties like this, anyways.

… But he’d done his best to help her and defend her while she’d been fighting the Sea Serpent, and that’s something that deserves recognition. Isn’t it?

“You don’t need to give your name to me,” she sighs. Balor is nothing like the Dream-god who’d used names to control others. “… ‘Decarabian’ is a borrowed name. It’s fine for you to choose a different name to go by as well, if you wish.”

[ihave-atummyache]

everyone is a little toxic (pt2)

Summary: reader lowkey deserves better

idk why i always make han suck so bad. i love him. i swear

reader lowk just as bad as skz fr!

angstyyyy but sfw

6.3 k words

enjoy (evil smirk)

Bang Chan:

After hiding out in the living room for a while, you decide that you should probably clean up the mess from dinner. You sigh before standing and heading to the kitchen. You scoop the leftovers into a container and start washing dishes and putting them away.

As soon as you're finished washing the dishes, however, you notice that the bowls are uneven, meaning that Chan didn't bring his bowl to the kitchen after he was done like he usually does. You sigh and decide to just face the music instead of avoiding it.

Your feet carry you to the door of his makeshift office before your brain can even process it. You don't bother knocking and Chan's back is to you but his head is on his desk and you can hear the soft snores leaving his mouth. You grab a throw blanket and approach his slumped form at the desk.

The bowl beside his head is empty and you look over at his sleeping form, noticing that his eyes seem to be much more swollen and there is evidence of tears on his face. He's really worked himself into the ground this time. You grab the bowl and retreat back to the kitchen, quickly washing it and heading to your bedroom.

You're cuddled up in bed on your phone when you hear your bedroom door creak open and soft footsteps approach the bed. You turn over when your boyfriend doesn't lay down and the sight in front of you is beyond pitiful.

Chan has the throw blanket around his shoulders and his eyes are swollen and full of tears, threatening to overflow. His bottom lip is jutting out and quivering and you can't help but act on instinct. You roll over and pull the blanket back, opening your arms.

"Oh, Chris. Come here," your voice is soft and you catch sight of one tear falling when he crawls into bed and wraps his arms around your waist, burying his face in the crook of your neck. You feel his tears wetting your skin but you just rub comforting circles on his back and quietly try to calm your boyfriend down.

His tears slowly come to a halt and your hand makes its way into his hair, fingertips rubbing his scalp. He lets out a sigh and you know that you don't have to say anything yet, he’s thinking of what to say so you don’t have to.

"I'm so sorry, baby. I don't know why I said the things I said. I hate that I always take my stress out on you because you don't deserve it. I'm going to try to be better," he promises quietly into your neck and you pull back to get a good look at him. His eyes are bloodshot and swollen and he has tears smeared all over his face.

"Channie, it's okay I-"

"No. It's not okay. I can't keep treating you like shit and expect you to still love me," his words are harsh but you understand where he is coming from. He's taking accountability for his own actions. You reach up and brush away the wet marks on his face gently with your thumbs before leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

"I could never stop loving you," you whisper against his lips and he presses his lips to yours in another kiss.

"I'll work on it. I swear I will," the urgency in his voice makes a smile cross your face and you nod, pulling your boyfriend to you again and he immediately nestles back into your neck.

"Let's sleep, baby. I love you," you whisper against the top of his head, planting another kiss in his hair. It only takes a few minutes before you hear his breathing get deeper and you know that he is finally fast asleep.

Lee Know:

You hear a gentle knock on the bathroom door and you let out a sound of annoyance. You knew he had a key to the bedroom but there isn't a key for the bathroom so you locked yourself in here.

"Go away, Minho. I said go yell at someone who wants to hear it," you grumble and place the bandaid over your cut. After about five minutes, you were finally able to get the bleeding to stop. Which means it only took Minho five minutes to come to his senses, find the bedroom key, and break in.

"Y/n..." his tone is pitiful and you hear him slide down the other side of the bathroom door. You take a step towards the door and decide it would be best to not open it right now. You're still too upset and seeing his perfect face right now would probably just piss you off more.

Instead you slide down on the cabinet beside the door and bring your knees to your chest, letting your head rest against the door. When your head meets the wood, there's a gently tap and Minho lets out a small sigh on the other side.

"I know you're listening, baby. Can you open the door so I can look at your cut please? There was a lot of blood and I just want to make sure you don't need stitches," he reasons in a gentle tone and you worry your teeth with your bottom lip.

His primary love language is acts of service. This is him apologizing in his own backwards, Minho kind of way.

You sigh but reach up, turning the lock. You hear your boyfriend scramble to his feet before the door swings open. You look up at him and he steps over one of your legs, standing between them and then drops to his knees, making your legs rest on either one of his thighs.

"May I?" He asks quietly, almost like if he speaks too loud, it might shatter the thick air between you two. He grabs your wrist and flips your hand over. He peels the bandaid up and you let out a hiss as the air hits it.

"I just put that on," you grumble out and he shakes his head, ultimately ignoring your complaint as he takes in the cut on your hand.

"It doesn't look like you need stitches," he pauses and you use this opportunity to sneak in your own snide comment.

"I could've told you that," your voice is dripping with sarcasm. His eyes dart to yours for a moment but he chooses not to respond to this statement either.

"You should at least bandage this properly," he finishes and reaches up next to the sink, grabbing the first aid kit. He sits back and crosses his legs. Minho grabs the back of your knees and drags you closer to him, so your knees are now hooked over his thighs.

He pulls out the gauze and bandages and starts to clean your hand and wrap it much better than you had done.

"This is all my fault," he suddenly mutters after he finishes bandaging you up. He presses a quick kiss to the place where your cut is and looks up at you.

"It isn't all your fault. Just mostly," you shrug and he lets out a half hearted laugh, cutting the tension in the room. You pull your hand from his and wrap both of your arms around his neck.

You pull yourself up to fully sit on his lap and straddle his hips more comfortably. His hands find purchase on your hips and you feel his thumbs rubbing soothing circles through your sweatpants.

"I don't know why I'm such a dick," he breathes out and locks eyes with you before continuing, "I can't figure out why someone as perfect as you would want to be with someone like me," he confesses and your heart drops. Why would he ever feel that way? If anything, you feel like its the other way around!

"I'm not perfect, Minho. And I'm with you because you're funny," you lean down and kiss his forehead gently, "Talented," another kiss to his left eye, "Handsome," a kiss to his right eye, "Smart," his nose, "Kind," you seal this one with a kiss to his lips before pulling away to look at him again.

"You are kind, Minho. Your flip from kind to annoyed just gets triggered a bit easier than everyone else's. I don't walk on eggshells around you and I never have which is why you think you're so mean to me. I just press your buttons is all," you try to reassure him and a small smile makes its way to his lips.

"I love you. You know that?" He asks wrapping his arms around you to bring you chest to chest with him.

"Mhm. I love you most," you confirm and wrap your arms around his neck as well, tightening the hug.

Changbin:

Your boyfriend isn't one to back down from a fight so seeing you walk away makes his blood boil. He follows you, hot on your heels.

"Can I just have some fucking space, Changbin. Please." It's technically a question but your demanding tone was more than enough to make it clear that you aren't asking.

"No. Talk to me," he answers anyways, ignoring the fact it wasn't really a question. You throw your hands in the air and turn around, making Changbin slam right into you. You stand your ground and don't even stumble a step.

"You want me to talk? Fine. I'll talk. What do you want me to say?" you prompt, crossing your arms over your chest. He stares at you for a moment, his mouth opening but immediately closing again.

"If you can't tell me what you want to hear, I can't say it," you instigate him and he scoffs, rolling his eyes.

"I don't want you to say anything besides how you are feeling right mow, y/n," he grumbles out, obviously annoyed with your antics.

"Are you actually going to listen to me or are you going to brush it off like you always do?"

"I never brush things you say off," he defends but you roll your eyes in return. You sit down on the couch and lay your legs across it, throwing a blanket over you. Your boyfriend stands in the entranceway of the living room, observing and waiting for you to speak to him.

"Well?" he prompts you but you ignore him, instead reaching for the remote and flipping on the T.V.

"Bun, are you seriously not going to talk to me?" He is trying to persuade you again and you make the mistake of glancing over at him, his sickeningly sweet pout covering his face. He looks precious and you can't help the guilt you feel creeping into your chest.

"Don't start try to be all cute now," You murmur out, opting to turn your attention to the T.V instead. Although, you really weren't focusing on anything on the screen.

"Just talk to me. I hate fighting," he grabs your legs and lifts them, placing them onto his lap. You sigh but press pause on the T.V. anyways.

"You hate fighting but you cause every fight. Why is that?" You instigate, putting the remote down and trying to ignore the soothing circles your boyfriend is rubbing on your calves.

"But I don't. You just-"

"Choose your next words very wisely, Changbin," you warn before he can even begin to say anything too out of pocket. He closes his mouth and his eyebrows drop into a furrow, obviously trying to choose his words wisely. You close your eyes and let your head fall back to rest on the arm rest of the couch.

Silence falls between the two of you for a few minutes and you finally pry your eyes open to look at Changbin. He is staring straight ahead and you can tell he is deep in thought. He isn't looking at anything in particular but that crease is still sitting between his brows. You tap his stomach gently with your foot to get his attention.

"Just say it," you breathe out and he looks over at you which makes you notice the overall solemn look covering his face. His normal pout seems to be extra pouty and his shoulders are slouched. He looks defeated.

"Do you actually think I'm arrogant?" He asks quietly and you want to lie and tell him no, you want to do anything to get that look off his stupid face but you can't stop your mouth from telling the truth.

"I do. I think you are arrogant and you never want to be wrong. I think that you put yourself first in this relationship instead of us being treated as equals," you confess and he breaks eye contact, staring down at his hand on your shin instead.

"But," you continue, drawing his attention to you once more, "I do love you. I don't want you to ever think that I don't," you conclude and he nods, agreeing with you.

"Do you want to break up with me?" he suddenly asks and a lump forms in your throat. You have never thought about whether or not this attribute of Changbin's would cause the end of your relationship. It has definitely taken its toll on you mentally and your relationship.

"Can I be honest with you?" You ask and he immediately nods, silently begging for your answer to be no.

"I honestly don't know," you breathe out, his glassy eyes meet yours, he's surprised to see that there are no tears in your eyes. You actually seem surprisingly calm and very level headed.

"Have you thought about this before?" His voice crack gives way to how he is actually feelings and you swallow, shaking your head, "Then how are you so calm?" He asks, tears starting to fall from his eyes.

"I'm not sure. I just have a lot on my mind I think. I never want to leave you. I mean, God, you're the love of my life but it just seems like you have... growing up to do," you speak quietly, trying your best not to break his already fragile state anymore.

"Please don't leave me," He's suddenly begging you, grip tightening around your ankle. His big pleading puppy dog eyes are boring into yours and you sit up. You reach forward and place a hand on his cheek, using your thumb to gently wipe a few tears.

"Let's just see how this all pans out, yeah?" You ask him and lean forward, pressing your forehead to his, before leaning back to your original position and pulling your legs off his lap.

"For tonight, I think you should go home," You continue and stand, walking towards your front door. Changbin stares at you for a moment before gathering his phone, wallet, and keys into his pocket and following you. You open the door and he steps out, turning to face you.

"Good night, Binnie. I love you," you speak out but before he can open his mouth to reply, you close the door and turn the deadbolt.

Hyunjin:

You hear the gentle knocks on your door but opt against actually answering. He has your code so if he actually wants to talk to you, he can get in. You don't have to guess who it is. Your boyfriend does this anytime you have any sort of disagreement. Suddenly, he's at your door step and begging for forgiveness.

"Go away, Hwang Hyunjin," you yell from your spot on the couch when he knocks again. Instead of listening to you, you hear the code get punched in and he enters anyways.

"What part of 'go' and 'away' do you not understand? And if you were going to come in anyways, what's the point of knocking?" You complain. Your boyfriend kicks off his shoes and leans against the door frame to the living room.

"I don't want to walk in if you aren't home. And I definitely(italics) am not listening to what you have to say if you're using my full name. There is a list of names my girlfriend is allowed to call me and I can guarantee 'Hwang Hyunjin' is not(italics) on the list," he raises his eyebrows at you and crosses his arms.

"Well since you broke in, what do you want?" you prompt him to go ahead and say what he needs to because you really aren't in the mood for his bullshit today.

"I just came to apologize," he pushes himself off the doorframe and approaches you but you scoff and stand from the couch, keeping the distance between the two of you.

"If you were ever truly sorry, we wouldn't go through this so much, you know? If you meant your apologies then this," you point back and forth between the two of you, "Wouldn't be so hard," you deadpan and he takes another step which you mirror by taking a step backwards.

"We're hard? Like you and me? This is hard to you?" He asks quietly, chewing the inside of his cheek. You open your mouth but snap it closed again when you realize just how harsh this is coming out.

"Just say it, y/n. Just tell me the truth. I'm a big boy, I can handle it," his voice is barely louder than a whisper. You run your hands through your hair and let out a groan, turning away from him.

"Why do I always have to come out as the bad guy? Yes, Hyunjin, this is hard. I knew it would be hard coming into this with you. I can deal with paparazzi. I can deal with crazy fans. I can deal with strict management. I can't deal with this image that you for some reason feel like you need to maintain. Do you not see the strain it is putting on this relationship?" You rant. You want to stop the words from leaving your mouth but they're tumbling from your tongue before your brain can stop them.

"I just want to be..." he starts but trails off quickly when he realizes what he was going to say.

"Perfect(italics)." You finish for him and his eyes drop to the floor between the two of you. You're right. He has been putting more strain on looking good for everyone else, that he isn't even noticing the unhappiness of his own girlfriend.

"I don't even know what to say right now. I don't think anything I can say will satisfy you," he makes this confession much more solemnly than his last. You let out a sigh and wait for his eyes to meet yours again.

"I love you and I always will but I think we need some time apart. How does that sound?" You offer and hear him suck in a sharp breath at the suggestion. You also don't really want to take a 'break' but you feel like you really have some things to think about.

"That sounds terrible," he deadpans and your lip finds its way between between your teeth before he takes a breath and continues, "But if that will make you happy, I'm willing to do anything for you," he nods at you and you nod in reply.

He turns away from you and slips his shoes that he just removed back on before opening the door and closing it gently behind him.

Han:

A few hours later, it is way past your usual bedtime and you find yourself obsessing over the video of your boyfriend. He hasn't come to try to work things out with you and you find yourself anxiously bouncing your leg at the bar.

"What am I doing?" you speak out to yourself again before standing and making your way to the bedroom. When you enter, you hear the water running in the shower and crawl into your bed, hoping to be asleep before Jisung is out.

Just as your eyes are getting to heavy to stay open, you hear the shower water turn off and Jisung moving around the bathroom, getting ready for bed. Although you are mad at him, the familiar sounds of his nighttime routine lull you right to sleep.

When you awake the next morning, you don't feel Jisung around you at all. You reach for your phone and are quite surprised to see 99+ notifications on pretty much every single one of your social medias. You unlock your phone and click on one of the apps, immediately going to Jisungns profile. This has to be something to do with him.

You click on his story and click through a few before you see the reason for your sudden increase in popularity. Jisung had posted you sleeping peacefully on his story with the caption, 'the only one for me'. You can't stop the smile that covers your face and hop out of bed to find your boyfriend.

You are pleased to find a bouquet of your favorite flowers and a hand written note in the middle when you enter your kitchen.

'I won't be here when you see this, but I want to make everything up to you when I get back from the studio. I love you my heart'

An even bigger smile covers your face when you read the note and you hold it up to your heart while you lean down to smell the flowers. He knows you well and he knows how to make you happy. Happy enough to almost forget about your feelings from last night.

Almost.

You walk back to your room and grab your phone, opening your boyfriend's contact.

'flowers won't fix it jisung'

You send it before you have time to over think what to say. You toss your phone down and get everything ready to take a quick shower. Hopefully, it'll help you gather your thoughts and get your mind right before he gets home.

You hear your phone vibrate and are surprised to see Jisung's name. Whenever he is at the studio or practicing, he rarely replies. This is expected since he is busy and working on his career. You can't expect him to be at your every beck and call.

'Good morning. I'm on my way home now' your eyebrows drop to a furrow at the message. It was still early in the morning and he couldn't have left too long before you woke up.

'?? you just left'

'I was just busying my mind until you woke up. I'll get us coffee' you lock your phone and head to the bathroom again. This gives you much less thinking time than you would like.

Around the same time you are pulling a hoodie over your head to protect you from the chill in the air, you hear your front door opening. You can tell from the footsteps that it's Jisung and walk out to see him sat at the dining room table on his phone and sipping a coffee.

His eyes shoot up to meet yours when he notices you're there and he pushes your coffee towards the other side of the table. You sit across from him and pull the coffee towards you, taking a sip. It was perfect, exactly how you like it and your chest tightens. He really does seem to try to be a good boyfriend. So why is it so hard to keep his attention on just you?

"Y/n? Did you hear me?" Jisung's voice snaps you out of your thoughts and and you blink at him a few times, bringing yourself back to reality.

"I said I'm sorry," he repeats himself, picking at the label on his coffee cup before continuing, "I'm sorry for being such a shit boyfriend. I'm sorry for always making you second guess my loyalty. I was thinking last night after you said what you said and I think I finally realize where you are coming from. I don't mean for you to be a secret," he tries to explain himself but in all honesty, it isn't pulling at you.

"Say something?" he pleads suddenly and you break eye contact, looking down at the cup again.

"I'm tired," you breathe out, looking back up at him again. He purses his lips in confusion before asking for clarification.

"Didn't you just wake up?"

"I don't mean physically. I mean... mentally. Emotionally. I'm exhausted," you confess and Jisung's grip on his cup tightens.

"What do you mean? Are you breaking up with me? Baby, please," he's suddenly begging and reaches across the table to take your hand in his but you retreat, staying just out of his reach.

"You hurt me. It hurts seeing the one that I love have their eyes on somebody else. You get that don't you?" you ask quietly. The tense silence falls between the two of you and Jisung's eyes grow wide.

"You love me?" he whispers it out. If there were any other noises in the house, you wouldn't have been able to hear the question. You sigh but nod anyways.

"I do. But, I love myself too. I deserve better than what you are giving me right now. You get that, don't you?" you ask and feel the first tears spring to your eyes. You let your eyes focus in the ceiling to try to prevent the tears from falling.

"I'm so sorry," Jisung's voice cracks and you look at him to see tears flowing freely down his face, "I love you too. I love you so much that it hurts," he confesses. You stand from the table and nod down at the crying boy in front of you.

"Then let me go," you speak quietly and a small broken sob rips through your ex boyfriend's chest.

Felix:

You stir when you wake up, happy to be off today and happy to feel your boyfriend’s arms wrapped around you. As soon as you move even an inch, Felix’s arms tighten around you and you immediately relax into his touch. You move slightly and realize that he has on different clothes than he did last night.

“How long have you been up?” you ask, voice still hoarse with sleep. He presses a kiss to the back of your head and pulls you impossibly closer to his body.

“Only an hour or so. I had something to take care of,” his deep voice carries no traces of sleep at all. He has been up for a while.

“Oh?” You question, turning in his arms and facing him finally. He looks like an angel. Maybe it’s because you just woke up and are feeling extra nice but he really looks so pretty.

“Mhm. I got on the phone with IT and got your computer fixed. Go look,” a small prideful small covers his face and you sit up quickly in the bed.

“No way! Really?” you squeal and jump out of the bed, going straight to your desk and opening the laptop. A huge smile covers your face when you realize that he is telling the truth. Your computer is finally working how it should be.

“As happy as I am that you did this, I’m kind of sad,” you turn and face Felix and his smile drops at your words.

“Why’s that, princess?”

“Because now I actually have to work on my project,” you giggle and his smile immediately reappears. He stands from the bed and walks over to you, standing between your legs. You wrap your arms around his hips and rest your chin on his stomach to look up at him. He busies on of his hands with smoothing your bed head and the other rubs soothing circles on your shoulder.

“Thank you. You’re the best, Lixie,” you place a kiss to his stomach before turning your head and pressing your cheek to his stomach instead, making the hug a bit deeper. Before Felix can reply with something far too humble and far too cute, you speak again.

“I’m sorry for how I acted last night. I know you’re just being helpful but I hate feeling stupid,” you confess and his fingers scratch at your scalp.

“It is never my intent to make you feel that way. You are probably the smartest person I know,” he responds quietly and you turn your head to look up at him again.

“What did I do to deserve you?” you speak up and he moves his hands to cup your face instead.

“I like to think I’m the lucky one,” he smiles down at you before leaning down and pressing a kiss to your forehead.

Seungmin-

Your tears are streaming down your face with the water and you’re forcing back sobs. You are too occupied to hear the bathroom door open, your boyfriend taking his own clothes off, even the shower curtain being pulled back.

You don’t even realize that Seungmin is in the room with you until you feel his hands wrap around your middle and his bare chest presses to your bare back. He places a soft kiss to your shoulder and that’s all it takes for the dam to break and the sobs start sneaking past your lips.

“Did I make you cry?” His voice is quiet, guilty and you nod your head, then shake it, then nod again, before shaking it once more. Seungmin fights back the chuckle that threatens to leave his throat at your uncertainty.

“Why don’t you like me?” The words leave your mouth and a deafening silence would be filling the room if it weren’t for the running water.

“I love you, y/n. Don’t think-”

“I know you love me, Seungmin. Why don’t you like(italics) me?” your breathing returns to normal and Seungmin wraps his arms fully around your middle. Hugging you tightly from behind.

“I like you more than anyone in the world,” he speaks into your damp hair and you chew down on your lip, trying your best to calm your emotions.

“You have a funny way of showing it,” you speak out and let your head fall back into his shoulder, allowing him access to press a gentle kiss to your neck.

“I hate that I hurt you so much. I just don’t know how to express myself well when it comes to you. I try to be straightforward but it just comes across as…” he trails off and you can’t help finishing the sentence for him.

“Cruel(italics),” you breathe out and his thumbs rub either side of your ribs for a moment before he finally nods against your neck in agreement. You sigh and let your hand make its way behind you and gently thread into your boyfriend’s hair, scratching his scalp gently.

“I’ll wash your hair,” you offer and he immediately loosens his grip and switches places with you. Seungmin loves when you wash his hair and he never denies you when you offer. He looks into your eyes for a moment and leans down, placing a gentle kiss to your lips before dropping to his knees in front of you.

You tilt his head back into the stream of water and start lathering it up with shampoo Seungmin’s eyes never leave your face and a small smile makes its way to your face, accompanied by a light blush.

“Close your eyes,” you demand but he shakes his head, his hands running up and down the back of your thighs.

“I can’t. You’re so pretty,” now it’s Seungmin’s turn to blush and you shake your head at him.

“I’m sure I’m all puffy and splotchy from crying earlier,” he tease him but his mouth drops into a small pout at the statement. He seems genuinely upset that he made you cry like that.

“Have I ever made you cry before?” he suddenly asks and your eyes dart to his eyes quickly before focusing back on his hair. You hum in response and hud grip your thighs tightens, making you stop and look into his eyes again. If you ever kicked a puppy, you can imagine it would show a very similar expression.

“Time to rinse,” you gulp and tilt Seungmin’s head towards the stream again and rinse the shampoo out. You expect him to rise but he remains on his knees in front of you and presses a kiss to your hip.

“I love you. I like you. I can’t imagine myself with anyone else,” he suddenly confesses and you smile down at him before dropping to your knees to be face to face with him.

“It’s going to take much more than you making me cry a few times for me to leave you alone, Kin Seungmin,” you lean forward and press a kiss to his lips.

I.N:

When you walk into the mall to buy a new perfume, you don’t expect to run into anyone you know, especially your ex boyfriend. Especially not your ex boyfriend who you are just as in love with now as you were two months ago.

“Innie?” Your voice comes out before you can think on whether or not it is a better idea to pretend you don’t see him. He tenses and you notice his shoulders seem a bit more broad than you remember and you can see some muscles peaking through the back of his black t-shirt.

He turns and your eyes lock for a moment. Although you can’t see the bottom half of his face through the mask, you know his mouth is open by the shock in his eyes. You approach him and he freezes again, obviously unsure of where this is going.

“It’s good to see you. How are you?” You decide to break the ice and Jeongin blink for what seems like the first time since you locked eyes.

“I’ve been better. How are you, y/n? You look good as always. Just got off work?” He asks finally, putting down the hoodie in his hands. You nod in response and glance down at his shirt again.

“I did. Was just going to get more perfume and a bite to eat,” you pause and chew on your lip for a second before continuing, “Wanna join?” your voice is quiet, cautious. If he rejects you, it seems like it would hurt less if you don’t fully ask him out loud. This was stupid. You should’ve known better than to-

“I would love to. Same place as always?” Jeongin’s voice interrupts your thoughts and you smile at him, nodding.

“Same place as always,” you parrot him and he quickly falls into step with you, both of you completely abandoning the original goal of why you’re both at the mall.

You both enter the restaurant and get sat quickly. The entire place was practically empty which makes it easy for Jeongin to remove his mask and not have to worry about being photographed. He reaches up to remove his mask and your eyes drop to his bicep. He definitely is getting bigger.

“Have you been working out?” you ask and cross your hands in front of you on the table. A bashful smile covers his face and he scratches his head, focusing down on the menu instead.

“Yeah a little bit,” he mumbles out and you smile. He’s just as sweet and just as humble as always. You two drop into small talk for the most part until your food arrives at the table.

“You know,” Jeongin starts before scooping up a bite of food, “The night we broke up, I was going to ask if you wanted to come here to eat with me. I was going to let us finally be photographed together,” he concludes and you freeze at his statement.

“Are we going to do this right now? You want to talk about this?” you ask quietly and set your fork down on the table.

“I want to say no but seeing you like this just makes me miss you so much,” he confesses, sitting his own fork down as well.

“Where were you, Innie?” you deadpan and he breaks eye contact, glancing down at your plate then meeting your eyes again.

“I just didn’t want you to see me like that. I wasn’t anywhere but home, physically(italics). But in my head, I wasn’t me. I was somebody that I didn’t even recognize. I was hurting and I didn’t want to hurt you so I pushed you away,” he concludes and chews the inside of his cheek.

“You hurt me more by pretending I didn’t exist,” you whisper across the table and he runs a hand through his hair. He nods in agreement and you nod back, pushing your plate away from you slightly so you can lean on the table again.

“I’m sorry. I still love you and I always will, y/n. You know that right?” He reaches across the table and places his hand on top of yours, rubbing gentle circles with his thumb. You flip your hand over and he quickly intertwines your fingers.

“I still love you and I always will, Innie. We should hang out again soon,” you offer and he nods, eagerly.

“Already wanting to hang out with me again and we just started this hang out,” he teases and you laugh, kicking him gently under the table.

“Hush. We have much more to talk to about, mister,” you reply and pull your hand from his, picking your utensils back up. “For now, I’m going to dig in. I haven’t been able to force myself to come here since we broke up and it smells too good,” you confess and he nods.

“Me too,”

[devildomditzy]

Pity Party

In which you pretend to forget Mammon’s birthday and Mammon pretends he’s not upset

no warning or tags, a quick birthday drabble for the birthday boy <3

——————————————————————————

He’s been practically bouncing off the walls all week. Even if he didn’t explicitly say, it was obvious what had him worked up.

It was his birthday tomorrow, something you knew very well in fact. You had planned down to the minute exactly how you and him were going to spend the day (or more so where you were allowing him to drag you throughout the town) already telling his brothers he’s off limits for the upcoming 24 hours.

He’s been dropping hints like mad and, you get it. He’s the Avatar of Greed. He loves presents, he loves parties, he loves attention, especially your attention. But c’mon, did he really believe you’d actually forget his birthday?

Well, you’re kinda hoping he does.

You’ve been planning this surprise for the second born for months now, pulling out all the stops and not sparing any expense. You love that look in his eye he gets when his greed starts up, and you intend to keep that look there all day. But, in order to really make this as special as you planned, it had to be a surprise.

“Yo, MC���, Mammon calls as he sits down next to you in the RAD courtyard during lunch a little too fast, his tray clattering to the table. “Whaddya got planned for us tomorrow?”

You don’t look up for the book you’re pretending to read, instead opting for a look of nonchalance.

“Uh, am I supposed to have something planned for us to do tomorrow?”

He looks taken aback for a moment, but presses onward.

“Aw, c’mon you gotta have somethin’ planned for tomorrow. Tomorrow’s so important, it might as well be a realm-wide holiday!”

You try to hide your smile as your lips upturn as he mutters something about asking Diavolo if it could be added to the calendar.

“What’s tomorrow?”

“Wha- What’s tomorrow?? MC, ya gotta be kidding me right now.”

“Is it some kind of weird Devildom holiday? I don’t have all of them memorized yet, you know.”

“You really don’t know?”, his voice breaks a little and you find it so hard to keep composed. But, you have to stay strong! Stick to the plan!

His face falls completely at the shake of your head. He clicks his tongue before mumbling, “Forget it then. Guess it wasn’t that important to begin with.” You watch as he abruptly stands up, trudging away from you in an upset haze.

You sigh heavily looking down at the book Satan loaned you to pretend to read to pretend to look too busy to remember your first man’s birthday. This sucked. The hurt on his features was evident and to know that you caused that? It’s a huge punch to the gut.

But the look on his face tomorrow will be so, so worth it.

You hope.

The next few hours after classes are filled with exactly what you expected: Mammon avoiding you at all costs and making every effort not to talk to you.

You weren’t too surprised to find Beel and Belphie waiting in the spot by RAD’s gate where Mammon usually met you to walk you back to the HOL.

Beel speaks first, “Mammon asked us to walk you home today”. He nods, so resolute.

Belphie, of course, adds the unneeded commentary. “How’s that plan working out? Mammon looked like a sad, wet puppy. More than normal, I mean.”

You groan in annoyance. “I knew he’d take it hard, but I didn’t know he was gonna take it THIS hard. I mean, c’mon, not even walking me home? That’s like his whole thing! That he’s supposed to do! Or Lucifer will kill him!”

“I think I would be upset too, if it were me”, Beel starts as the three of you begin your walk. “Imagine it was your birthday, and you thought no one would get you a cake? That’s so sad,” he sighs, laying his hand over his stomach, looking remorseful.

“No one could forget your birthday Beel, or they’d be forgetting mine too”, Belphie laughs. which seems to brighten Beel’s mood a little bit.

“Right, you always get me a cake, Belphie”, Beel smiles.

“Do you think I should talk to him? Just tell him what I’m planning?”

“And ruin your surprise? You’ve been working hard on that”, frowns Beel.

His twin continues where he left off, “And we’ve been working hard to keep it a secret. Don’t worry, I give it an hour, maybe two before he’s talking to you again. He’s like, physically incapable of not hovering around you like some parasite.”

“But he’s my favorite parasite”, you muse, “and don’t call him that.”

“Well, whatever you do, better make up your mind quick”, Belphie says, opening the gates to the House of Lamentation. “Mammon can be sensitive, but trust me, he’ll survive a couple hours thinking you forgot.”

“Yeah, I guess he can.”

He could not.

Mammon laid on his bed, furious and yet, finding himself unable to be mad at you. Of course you forgot his birthday. Why would you remember?

When you’re getting lunch and shopping in town with Asmo. When you’re having tea and chatting with Lucifer. When your gaming with Levi and reading with Satan. When your napping or stargazing with the twins? When you’re baking with Luke and Simeon and Barbatos and have the future king of the Devildom gunning for your attention as well. Why would you remember him? The selfish prick of the family. Why would you deem him or his birthday important?

And yet, you look at him like he hung the stars and the moon. You touch him like he’s made of fragile glass. You care for him as if he was the most special thing in your life. Did he even have the right to be upset? When someone as important as you forgets someone as insignificant as him?

He can’t fault you. And honestly not talking to you hurts worse than anything you could ever do to him. Forcing himself to not walk you home was easily one of the hardest things he had to do within the last millennia. A birthday without you sounds much worse than just telling you why he’s upset.

But he’s stubborn, dammit. Goddamn Lucifer and the goddamn pride he instilled in him.

So, he does what he does best when he’s upset. He broods. And he does not text you. Oh no, don’t even think that he typed a million messages and erased them, words never coming out right. Cause he didn’t. Of course he didn’t. He would never.

He stares at his ceiling, arms crossed, D.D.D tossed aside. He really can’t believe it. It’s already almost midnight. You really forgot his birthday, didn’t you? It’s not that you HAD to get him anything, or you HAD to have something planned, he just… really wished you did.

He thought he was more important to you than that.

As of right on cue, a light rasp comes from the other side of his door. A familiar one. None of his brothers knocked that quietly.

But did he wanna answer you? No. He didn’t want to talk to you and see your beautiful face and spend his day with the most important person in his life, his human. Cause he didn’t. Of course not. He would never.

“Mammon, are you in there?”, your voice rings out and his heart lurches. He wants to be mad at you, dammit he wants to be mad at you. But…

He’s up before he even knows what he’s doing, turning the handle, sighing before he starts, “Look, MC, I didn’t mean to…what’s that?”

He stops mid sentence, pointing down to the box in your hands, wrapped up nicely in gold foil wrapping.

“It’s a present for the birthday boy,” you take out your own D.D.D. looking at the time. And since it’s officially midnight, it’s officially your birthday.”

“W-wha, I-I…Y-you…”

“Happy Birthday Mammon”, you smile sweetly at him, shoving the box in his hands.

He looks down at it and then back at you… then down and it and back at you again, disbelief written on his face.

“Don’t cha ever scare me like that again, got it!?”

“Scare you?”, you question him with a light chuckle.

“Yeah, scare me! I though you forgot all about me!”

“You? How could anyone forget about The Great Mammon! And how could I forget about my first man?”

He watches as a blush rises on your cheeks, a matching one quickly finding its way onto his.

“Well”, you say, shoving the box into his hands, “Open it!”

He pauses for a minute before careful undoing the ribbon tying it together, unraveling the gaudy paper from around the box.

He lets out a soft gasp as he removes the lid. “Is this… MC these cost a fortune, how did you…”

You cut him off, taking the gold chain bracelet out and cuffing it around his wrist.

“Well, you kinda haven’t shut up about it since you saw it, so I saved up as much as I could from my Hell’s Kitchen shifts.”

He stares at it in awe before smiling widely and wrapping his arms around you tightly, rocking you back and forth. “Thank you, Treasure.”

The nickname pulls a giddy laugh from your chest, pulling back from the hug to look him in the eyes. “Anytime, Mammoney. But you gotta get ready”, you reply, poking a finger into his chest to drive the point home.

“Ready? For what?”

“Well, there’s your party at The Fall that starts in about an hour… and then we have to check in at the private suite…then maybe we’ll sleep a little? maybe? Then there’s the breakfast reservations…. and the lunch reservations…and the dinner reservations…and then the Casino downtown is already expecting you…” you list lost in thought, thinking hard to remember everything you had planned out in advance.

Mammon can’t help but look at you with the fondest eyes. Like you had hung the stars and the moon. He puts his hand on your shoulder to grab your attention, touching you like the most fragile glass.

“What, did you really think I forgot?”, you tease him in that tone you know he loves.

And he once again takes you into his arms. He can’t believe he doubted you for a second. Not only are you a bad liar but,

You are the most important thing in his life.

[citrusandcyanide]

Can't Lose You | L.G.

Part 2

Pairing: Lip Gallagher x f!Reader

an. Okay this part is a lot shorter than I expected just cause I think it was a good place to end the scene. I got more coming, but this had to stand on its own. I forgot to mention in the last part that I changed Lips college to UChicago instead of Chicago Polytechnic. Also Thank you for the kind messages and reblogs!!! They really motivate me to write and put out chapters quicker. Thank you for the love <3333

Synopsis. Lip doesn't want to go to college unlike his best friend who has her mind set on leaving Chicago and her feelings for Lip behind. Lip won't let her leave so easily.

words. 1.2k

Warnings. Drinking. angst, swearing. idk clutch your pearls.

Part 1 Part 3 (Final)

“Berkeley…” Lip said as he held the acceptance letter in his hand. “California.” 

“Cali-fucking-fornia,” You said with a grin, giggling a bit from the beers. You had gone through more than a few. You were tipping over the edge of tipsy. Lip was going at a much slower pace. You were laying down on his bed while he was sitting on the edge of it. His eyes kept scanning over the paper. His expression was bare. You were too gone to care what he was thinking. “I fucking did it. I’m fucking out of here. All that work, fuck… I was hoping it would do something but I didn’t think it would.I got in. to BERKELEY. THE UC BERKELEY.”

“I’m proud of you, kid,” Lip applauded, but his voice didn’t show any enthusiasm . You stood up to grab the letter from him. Only then did you notice his clenched jaw and dissociated expression. You stared at him until he looked over. He straightened his back and handed you the letter. “I’m sorry it’s just far.” 

“Yeah that’s the point: Far. Away. Not here,” You replied, rolling your eyes. You knew he would do this, but you thought he would at least try and pretend to be happy for you. This was all you had been wanting, a life outside of Chicago. But he couldn’t bring himself to entertain the idea for a moment. He wasn’t going to let you leave easy. 

“What about the, uh–what’s it called? The institute. ISA something,” Lip asked. You interrupted him briefly to correct him before he continued.  “That’s a perfectly good option.” 

“Why? I told you I don’t want to stay here,” You sighed and fixed your position on the bed so you were fully facing him. 

“Yeah but is it really that bad here? It’s not sunshine and rainbows but it’s fine. It’s not like Berkeley is gonna be any different,” He said, looking at you fully. There was something behind his eyes you couldn’t quite place. Like a part of him was offended you wanted to leave. You didn’t like it. 

“There isn’t anything left for me here.” The excitement left your voice. You stated it plainly. It was a fact. There wasn’t. Lip wasn’t yours. Lip had never been and never would be. You had no other attachment to Chicago than him. You waited long enough for something that wouldn’t happen. Lip scoffed. 

“We’re here. Our friendship, us,” Lip said, pain evident in his voice. He was taking it personally that you were ignoring the fact he was here. He didn’t realize he was exactly the reason you needed to leave. “Is it selfish of me to say that I don’t want you to leave me behind?”

“You have your own ticket out. You are personally capable of leaving on your own,” You quickly replied. It hurt you having to justify your reason for leaving to your best friend when he’s known how important it’s meant for you this whole time. He couldn’t be happy for you for a moment without thinking of what it meant for himself and his life. 

“I’m not going to fucking Boston,” He replied offended, shaking his head in disgust. 

“There’s nothing keeping you here. That’s your choice,” You argued back. You weren’t going to let him paint himself out to be the victim. He had equal the chance to leave Chicago behind and start something good for himself. You wanted that for him. You desperately wanted to see him succeed and find happiness outside of what your current life had to offer. He just couldnt see the same for you.

“You’re keeping me here. We– Us,” Lip turned fully to face you. His eyes pierced deep into yours. It didn’t sound like an excuse. He said it and you could tell he actually believed it. It was the first time in years that he was admitting that a part of him needs you in his life. He cared about having you with him. He cared that you grew up together. That you were his other half, but it was delusional to believe the two of you hadn’t been growing apart. And whatever this is was a plea to hold on to what was left. 

“Stop repeating that as if it was a thing. There hasn’t been an us in years,” Your voice was stern. 

“But there can be. Me at UChicago, you at SAIC. a few miles away from eachother,” Lip put a hand on your knee. “I haven’t been fair to you or your feelings and I know what I said before but not having you here is so much worse—” 

“Don’t bring my feelings into this.” You winced. You shut your eyes in an attempt to control your emotions. 

“It’s not just yours,” He argued. 

“Stop.” You kept your eyes closed. 

“They’re mine too.” You felt the bed move under you as he inched closer to where you were sitting. 

“Stop.” 

 “I love you–” You cut him off before he could finish. 

“Don’t say that. You don’t want me. I know how this will go,” You said opening your eyes. The alcohol had made you dizzy but your head was as clear as day. You’re heart was pulling you towards him and it made you angry. “ You’ll keep me here and play with someone else’s heart instead cause you think it’s kinder than to do it to me, but you are playing with my heart. All of this is hurting me. You’re hurting me.” 

“I don’t want to hurt you,” He reached his hand out towards you. You quickly pulled it away. 

“You can’t help it,” You spat back. Tears threatened to fall from your eyes as your rage began bubbling instead you. 

“You don’t know what you’re saying.” He shook his head and tried to reach for your hand again. You held your own close to your chest. Clenching your shirt over your pounding heart.

“You don’t love me.” With each of his words you felt your walls being chipped away. 

“I do,” His voice sounded like he was pleading. 

“You don’t want me.” You were convincing yourself, not Lip. He was your weakness. He always was.  

“Y/n, if you stay I’m yours.” 

The world stopped. As you looked at the boy in front of you, your walls broke. He won. Lip gets what he wants and he wants you to stay. To give up the dream you had been working so hard for and you were about to. He was offering you another dream.

“Let me be yours… please,” He pleaded, his voice barely above a whisper. Your hand fell into his. He gently pulled you forward to him, closer and closer until your noses touched. You closed your eyes. His lips touched yours. How could you ever say no to Lip Gallagher?

~~~~

an. poor Mandy lol

[j0eyj0rdis0n]

PLS EYELESS JACK SMUT PLS PLS PLS I HAVE BEEN CRAVING😭😭😭

Can i request an ej x fem reader where ej saw reader in the woods and followed her back home so he could eat her but got attracted to her instead and wanted to eat her in an different way😏

you can add any kinks man i just want ej😕

ps. thanku and drink water👺

FIRST MEAL - EYELESS JACK

Fandom: Creepypasta

Word Count: 933

Plot: Jack was hungry and when he finally got a taste of you, he realized he didn't need to kill you to feel full.

Warnings: SMUT, stalking, oral (female receiving), honestly pretty vanilla

You and your friends had been exploring the nearby woods since you moved into the neighborhood a couple months ago. Which was absolutely perfect for Jack considering he was getting quite hungry. He had quite the selection between you and your four friends but none of them smelled quite as good as you. To others your scent was regular, average, unnoticeable. But to him, he could smell you from miles away, you were absolutely delicious and it was getting harder and harder to keep himself out of your sight. He kept his distance, following you home, following you throughout your day, watching you and your friends hang out, go to school, work, the works.

At first it was for stalking and killing purposes only. But as he continued he couldn't help but want you for himself.

The neighborhood was quiet, it was a fall night and you often leave your windows open when it's nice weather. He loved how easy you made it for him. Sneaking up and through your second floor window he made his way into your room, making sure to keep quiet as to not wake you up. You slept peacefully in your small bed, your pajama shirt raised just enough so he could see your stomach. He felt his mouth begin to water as he stared. Your soft skin would be a breeze to tear through, and he was sure you'd taste delicious.

In more ways than one.

He looked around your room, rummaging through your belongings, closet, and finally... Drawers. The bottom one had quite the surprise for Jack. A rather large purple dildo with a nice vibrator to match. What a dirty girl you were and he didn't even know. He supposed he hadn't watched you enough... Missions had become quite frequent after all.

It wasn't long until he heard the rustling of your blankets shifting and a soft groan that followed a stretch. Dinner was served.

He turned to look at you, his smirk hidden behind his mask. Your eyes were wide with fear as he pressed his finger to where his lips would be.

"W-who-" You had no words. You couldn't even get out the sentence you wanted to. Who are you?

"No need to worry about that darling." He assured as he moved closer, watching you sink into your pillows trying to get as far away as you could.

You were scared, terrified even. You'd never expected to have a masked man stand over you in your own bedroom.

"I just wanted a little snack. Considering you're close by, convenient, beautiful, and quite the dirty girl... I figured you'd be the one." The smirk was evident in his voice even if his mask hid his expression.

You were frozen, trying to process everything that's just happened in the span of a minute. Wait- Did he just call you beautiful?

He slowly pulled off his mask, placing it on your bedside table and pushing your covers aside. "Now if you'd lay back for me and take off those shorts, I can get to work." He smiled, showing his razor teeth.

"You- You want me?" You asked in disbelief. You felt the fear slowly subside as you realize what he wants. You haven't gotten any since you've moved here and here's a man practically throwing himself at you.

He nodded, looking you up and down as he spoke, "it would all be for you."

You let out a deep breath as you pulled your bottoms off tentatively. The 'all for you' part sold you. Regardless of the black substance oozing from his eyes and his sharp teeth, you did as he said. Leaning back and opening your legs.

You watched him take a deep breath and lick his lips before he leaned down and gave your wet pussy a lick. You tasted better than anything he's ever had before. He knew that he wouldn't be able to kill you, just after the first taste. He was hooked.

He quickly got to work, using his long tongue in ways you'd never experienced before. It was pure bliss as he worked you over. You grabbed his hair harshly as you moaned, pulling him in closer. He let out a low growl at your pull, letting you know that he was in control. He was acting as if he hadn't eaten in years and you'd be his last meal.

Your back arched as he slipped his tongue inside, finding that perfect spot that made you cover your mouth to keep quiet. Your parents were sleeping down the hall after all. He loved the way you reacted to him, to only his tongue. He loved how easy this was. How easy he could get just what he wanted. It wasn't long until he could feel your orgasm coming, the way your thighs squeezed his head and your hips bucked against him.

He licked up every last drop when you came, making you shiver as he pulled away. He stood tall, looming over you as he slipped his mask back on, moving towards the window.

"Wait!" You called breathlessly, probably louder than you should've. "Who are you?" You wanted desperately for him to leave his number or at least a place to find him.

"Whoever you want me to be." He replied, halfway out the window. "I'll be back for another meal soon darling."

Just as fast as he got in, he was out and making his way into the woods as you reached the window. You watched the man go, hoping he'd come back soon to please you once again.

Yes yes yes I love this kind of EJ. Thank you for the request! Also I think this past week has been the most water I've drank in my life, so I hope that makes you happy 😊

[demonicbaby666]

Hi, can i request oral sex for mommy!regina x reader w degradation kink ? regina receiving

Command

One shot | Once Upon a Time Masterlist | Masterlists

Fandom: Once Upon a Time

Pairing: Regina Mills x fem!Reader

Genre: Smut

Words: 1.1k+

Warnings: 18+, minors DNI, degradation, oral sex, face-sitting, mommy kink, squirting

From the start, you knew Regina liked control. Her throne was not left in the enchanted forest. Instead, it lived freely in all her presiding actions and orders. You knew that nothing could stand in the way of her regal sovereignty. And from the very first time she looked at you, that ordinary spring morning, you knew from the puckish twinkle in her eyes and the sudden conviction in her stride that her sights were set. 

That very night she brought you to her mansion, her goals clear: to break you down, claim you as hers and mark you over and over till you were melded to perfection. By the time you lay bare for her, watching as her tongue darted out to wet her lips and her eyes grew a smokey shade of oak, your body was already coloured purple and shades of red. The plethora of bloodied stains littering your supple skin were studied over and over again by lust-bitten eyes, revisited by puckered lips, and grazed between gnawing teeth until finally, the branding session met its end with a final pop. 

Regina bore no discomfort in uttering how she planned to destroy you, whispering into the shell of your ear every minute detail she could spare, how she would tear you apart, how she’d fuck you over and over until you’d beg her to stop, how she’d ignore your wishes and mercilessly take what she wanted from you till you’d fall limp and see black. 

As the details grew more vivid and the scenes were painted clearer in your head, your body grew to be more reactive. Regina would only have to slide a finger between your legs, give you the slightest bit of attention, and you’d have come on the spot. Of course, the older woman knew this, which is why she did the opposite. 

Hovering above you, Regina redistributed her weight from elbows to palms and pushed herself up. Smearing the evidence of arousal over your stomach, Regina straightened her spine to straddle you comfortably. 

The pride in her eyes was evident as the sound of your dejected whine filled her ears, each corner of her lip curled, soon revealing a glossy row of pearly whites. With little care and no regard for your moping, a demanding hand brushed the side of your neck and gripped tightly to a heap of hair. There was little warning or time to adjust when you were urged down the bed, your hips a bustling mess as they brought more and more of the bed linen with them on their descent. 

What greeted you was a mouthwatering sight. The musky aroma drew you in and tempted your tongue to dart out your mouth; knowing better than to act without permission, the muscle did not stray further than moistening your lips. You waited patiently, looking up into chestnut eyes that held none of the impatience you were sporting. Regina's control was unfathomable and often deterring, but you held firm and awaited instruction. 

“Such a good little doll for mommy,” she drawled, polished nails raking through your hair. “Now put that slutty mouth to use, mmh?” 

It was everything you’d expect, from the bitter tang to the delicate undertones of honey—perfection. The taste of Regina was something you knew you’d never tire of. 

You drank it in slowly, teasing the sensitive area with languid brushes of your tongue, never quite getting close enough to where you would be most appreciated. Only when the grip in your hair grew insistent and demanding did you place your lips around that hidden gem and draw it into your mouth. The thanks the older woman let out was worth the pain of her sudden deathly grip. Her moans sounded like the call of an angel: low, breathy and shaky. 

“I knew it,” Regina moaned, pushing you further into her cunt, hips moving to ride your tongue. “You are a dirty little whore."

You unabashedly moaned into her cunt, the vibrations giving way to a whole other sensation the brunette thoroughly enjoyed. Thighs tightened around your head, muffling the collection of sounds coming from above you, but you didn’t care when you could see them as much as you could hear them. Plump lips were permanently set apart, taking in rushed breaths as Regina’s chest rose and fell accordingly. 

‘Take from me what you want. Use me. I am entirely yours’ is what you might have said had words not failed you, had your mouth not been preoccupied. Instead, you became intent on portraying your message by worshipping Regina’s sex with measured licks and calculated sucks. 

It wasn't long before she was slipping, her control dimming like a burnt-out flame. Her hips movements spluttered, her thighs shook, and her moans shrilled. But the woman above you would not give into submission so easily. This was her playground, and you were her plaything. There would be no other way. 

One of the hands holding Regina’s thigh was urged up to cup a heaving breast. You palmed the soft mound in your hand, tweaking a nipple and marvelling at the way Regina’s back arched, and another whine tumbled out her gaping mouth. A line of sweat formed above her brow, a droplet running down from her neck to the valley of her breasts. The salty smell of exertion it was taking to hold her orgasm back filled the air, only slightly discernible away from the beckoning smell of her heated sex. 

“More,” she demanded, digging her nails painfully into your scalp, pushing her pussy further down onto the bottom half of your face. You could scarcely breathe, nose nestled in coarse hair, mouth hellbent on tipping Regina over the edge. 

You worked faster and redoubled your efforts if only to draw more moans from the woman above you. You didn’t care that your lungs were constricted or your head felt light. All that mattered was Regina's trembling, her getting louder and, ultimately, closer. 

Hand over her breast, you tweaked a nipple between your thumb and finger, tight enough to send a jolt of pain through Regina’s system, something you were happy to find out she liked. With the finishing of one long drawn-out stripe of your tongue, you sucked Regina’s clit back into your mouth and ran it between your teeth. She fell apart, eyes shut, spraying her juices over your face, squirt dribbling down your chin. 

You drank her up, tongue delving into the source, unafraid to continually pleasure Regina through the entire length of her orgasm till she was near screaming and lifting her hips away. Her grip loosened in your hair, fingers combing through loose knots instead. 

After heavy breaths turned light, Regina slid off you, planting her back on the mattress beside where you lay breathlessly. She turned, placed a hand over your flushed cheek and smiled, bright and genuine. 

“You did good, baby,” she said, closing the space between your bodies and giving you a passionate kiss. 

“I did?” You asked, suddenly shy and self-conscious. 

Regina’s smile only grew wider, her hand sliding down to the juncture between your legs. “Yes, now let mommy make you feel good, sweet girl.” 

Tags: @babygirlscout @7thavenger @five-bi-five-mind @supercorpstan97 @kenyakimble34 @12fluffybunny12 @maxinehufflepuffprincess @whosprentiss @asolitaryrose3 @imlike-so-gaydude @awritersometime @bossofcriminalminds @tmlwattpad19 @jareguiromanoff @fayharthy @lovelyy-moonlight @patronagrona @storiesofsvu @mrs-prentiss @scarletchase1989 @bigwhoreywhore @homo-oddity @camciel @agathaandgwenslesbian @dmysterioblog @lift-heavy-be-gay @trashytraveler666 @althenajn | click here to be added to my taglist

[echoingbirdsofprey]

Delicate (Jake's Version)

5 - I'm Your Man

Pairing: Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x OFC Samantha Kazansky

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Iceman's mortality is becoming more apparent, Hangman and Rooster have words, Jake is angry about his feelings

A/N: I shuffled around canon events so this would work. Never said it was canon compliant hehehe

Playlist

As Nat headed out the door to Sam's house, Jake was arriving. He'd pulled up in his truck and he felt slightly awkward as he hopped out. He had on his khakis and cowboy boots again and as Nat passed him she raised her eyebrows. She glanced back at Sam who had her arms folded and was standing in the doorway. Jake shut the door to his truck and popped his sunglasses on. He glanced at Nat one more time as she got into her car.

Sam was sure they'd have a chat later. She knew Nat cared deeply for her and didn't want to see her hurt, but she also knew how nasty Sam could be when she needed to be. Sam herself had scared off her fair share of guys who wanted to treat her like a piece of ass instead of with respect. Then there was Jake. Sam still hadn't figured out Jake's motives but there was something telling her they were more pure than she'd expected. Jake was in his late twenties. He was at a point where he needed to be done fucking around, especially if he wanted to continue with Sam. She definitely wasn’t looking for a hook up. He knew she was looking for more than that.  He was too. Now they just needed to get on the same page, but Jake knew he was going to have to work to show her that he was worth it.

He had a goofy smile on his face as he clipped his sunglasses to the front of his white t-shirt, and shoved his hands in his pants pockets. His shoulders were tight as he reached the top step. 

“Feel like the secondary lover here...” Jake said sheepishly and Sam smiled as she waved at Nat, and pulled him through the front door. 

“Aww, are you jealous that Nat slept in my bed and you didn’t?” Sam asked, smirking at Jake. He glanced down at what she had on, realizing she was in sweatpants that hung low on her hips and crop top that showed part of her stomach. He licked his lips, and blatantly stared at her mid section.

“Uh, a little, especially if you were wearin’ that, honey bun.” He said as his eyes followed her up the stairs. She gazed back at him, just as Rocco appeared and headed straight for Jake.

“Oh, Jake...I wear much less than this to bed.” She said with a snarky undertone, and he sighed heavily as he cocked a hip, folded his arms behind his back and locked eyes with the little dachshund who was currently trying to climb up his legs. He leaned down, and picked Rocco up and held him. 

“At least you don’t tease me.” He said softly to the dog, who licked his cheek. The pair watched as Sam came down not too long later, in the same outfit she’d gone up in. Jake thought she was going to change but evidently not. 

“Sorry. Had to grab my phone and check on dad. You’re cute.” She said, petting Rocco’s head and kissing Jake on the cheek. He felt his face heat up and he was sure he looked like a tomato as she brushed past him to open the door so they could head out to get breakfast. 

“Thanks?” He tilted his head and placed Rocco back on the floor. The little dog wagged his tail and Sam grabbed his leash and clipped it to his collar. She motioned for Jake to follow and he did, putting his sunglasses on as they stepped out into the morning light. He reached for her, his hand meeting the small of her back, gaining her attention so he could ask her how her father was. 

“He’s okay. Really tired today. Usually he’s up before me but he was just laying there and my mother said he was having trouble breathing overnight...” She said, her voice taking on a somber tone and that’s where Jake saw the concrete foundation crack. The stoicism she displayed one hundred percent of the time ended with her father. 

“I’m sorry...” Jake said, chancing it by putting his hand around her waist as they continued walking. She leaned into him and let her guard down, placing her arm around him as well. Jake’s heart nearly leapt out of his chest. They walked in silence the rest of the way to the cafe. When they arrived, Jake stopped her before they ordered. His gaze set upon hers and he reached up to run his fingers across her cheek as he spoke. “If you need anything, or you ever feel too alone in this...just ask me...and I'll be there.”

Sam blinked a few times before closing her eyes and pressing her cheek into his open palm. The movement set goosebumps across her skin and sent sparks through him. She reached up and rested her hand over his for a moment before pulling away. She took a deep breath, pushing all of the what ifs and maybes down deep, along with the tears that she didn't want him to see. 

When they arrived back at her house, she invited him in. They sat at the kitchen island, where she had a view of her father sitting on the couch. Jake watched as she went over and spoke quietly to him, obviously making sure Jake couldn’t hear what she said, and then kissed him on the forehead. When she came back over, Jake saw her eyes were misty again. He stayed silent as they ate, Sam glancing over at her father every so often. He was watching some sports show, mostly recaps from games from the last few days, and he would cough every so often. His cough was dry and harsh and sounded like he could hack up a lung at any point. Jake could only imagine how bad it hurt. 

The longer they sat there, the more Jake saw the happiness leave Sam’s features. He saw dread creeping in and there was nothing that could be done to stop it. He was sure she was coming to terms with what was going on, but as Jake had noticed, her mother was not around, neither were her siblings. Her mother had taken on full responsibility of the younger siblings during the day, taking them to school, then running errands for Ice because he couldn’t do them, then picking the kids up and taking them to whatever sports or after school things they did. Jake surmised that Sam was very much alone in this, especially since she worked at home. She saw Ice all day now and Jake knew it had to be hard watching someone’s life slowly be taken from them by cancer.

After they’d finished their breakfast, Sam walked Jake to the door and they stepped out onto the front step. He stood for a moment, toying with his sunglasses. Sam glanced around before her eyes met Jake’s and that was when she lost it. She dissolved into tears, resolve expired. Jake pulled her in close, knowing that his strong arms couldn’t shield her from everything but they could at least hold her tight and make her forget everything for a few moments. 

“I know it’s not okay...I know you’re not okay...but when I’m here...you put all this on me, okay? You let me take it all away. Let me have the aftermath, because I promise you, I can take it. I can't fix it, but I can hold you for as long as you need a break from the pain.” He murmured into her hair and she nodded in his arms, tears wetting his t-shirt as she held onto him for as long as she could untl he had to leave for the base. 

“Just breathe, babygirl. It'll be okay .”

🛩🛩🛩

Over the next week or so, plenty of situations arose where Jake had thought of his own mortality. When Mav and Rooster went at it in their jets, Jake thought about having to dive down and save one of them. When Phoenix and Bob had to punch out, he thought about how he'd never had to. Not once in his whole career. And when Jake took it a little too far, and Rooster was about to knock his goddamn block off, Jake thought about how he shouldn't have said what he said. 

“I'm not running a fucking daycare here, Seresin! Act your goddamn age!” Admiral Beau “Cyclone” Simpson yelled, slamming his hands on his desk. “You were top of your class, always a team leader, for fuck’s sake! Take responsibility for you actions and cut the shit with Bradshaw! And don’t think you’re the only one getting reprimanded here. I have yet to speak to Bradshaw, but you can bet the two of you are on thin fuckin’ ice. ” 

Jake smirked slightly at the expression but then his brows furrowed, thinking of Sam’s father. 

“Stop smirking, Seresin, you're dismissed.” Cyclone said and Jake saluted and left the office, noticing Bradley was walking toward him. 

“Thanks Bradshaw. Got my ass reemed because of you.” Jake said as he passed him. Bradley whipped around and charged at Jake, grabbing him by the neck of his flight suit. He pulled him close enough that Jake could smell his sweat and cologne.

“ You're a fuckin’ asshole, Seresin. You don't deserve the time of day from Sam. I hope she does what she does with every other guy and plays with you and you catch feelings and then dumps your ass, because that's really what you deserve.” Bradley gritted through his teeth and then he pushed Jake away, leaving him paralyzed on the spot as Bradley fixed his suit and headed into Cyclone's office. 

Jake blinks a few times before trying to dissect what Bradley just said to him. He heads back to the locker room, noticing most everyone had finished up. Now they were all sitting and chatting. Jake turned and faced his locker, unzipping his flight suit and stepping out of it. 

“So how bad was it?” Coyote asked. Jake turned and smirked.

“Ah, just got yelled at. Not that big of a deal.” Jake said, pulling his uniform khakis from his locker. He would shower at home so that he didn't need to stay here any longer. He didn't need to wait for Bradley to start shit again. Jake didn't need to get hit. In his own selfish and stupid way, Jake thought of his taunting as encouragement, hoping to make these guys better pilots. He knew most of them were hot blooded, so teasing got them riled...some more than others. When they got riled they tried harder, and they thought less and that's what Bradley needed. He needed to think less. Jake said bye to everyone, and that was when he felt like he was going to get ambushed again. And he was right about that.

“Hangman!” He heard Phoenix’s voice echo through the corridor and he stopped, sighing heavily. Here we go, he thought.

“Yes ma’am?” He said ss he turned to her with a smirk. She was in his face quicker than a wolf on it’s prey. 

“Don’t ma’am me. You better not hurt Sam.”

“Why is everyone protecting her but not actually doing anything to help her then? First Bradshaw, now you? Who’s next? Mav? Cyclone? Am I gonna get kicked out of the fuckin’ Navy if I date the fucking Commander’s daughter? No, you’re all talk and no action.” He was actually starting to get angry. He could feel it bubbling up inside of him and he felt bad that Phoenix would get the brunt of it. 

“If you’re not careful, you might! You’re a good pilot. Your attitude sucks though. And you’re a player. That’s not what she needs right now. You’re an asshole for thinking you can swoop in and get whatever you want while she’s going through...”

“Goin’ through what? Her father dyin’? Yeah, I know he is. I’ve seen him. I’m not tryin’ to take advantage of her. I’m tryin’ to be a distraction for her. I’m tryin’ to be the punching bag here because I know I can be. Don’t even try to say I don’t see what its doin’ to her. I do. Trust me...I see it every morning.” Jake bristled as he spoke and Phoenix’s eyes went wide. 

“You haven't even know her that long...” Phoenix said and Jake couldn't help his next words. The anger inside him boiled over and it came out as admittance.

“That shouldn't matter when I know I love her ! I know y'all think I'm very fuckin’ incapable of those types of emotions but I do feel them and I've never felt them this fuckin’ hard before. I would risk my career for her. For her. ” He said, gritting his teeth as the last words came out. Coyote, Payback, and Bob had poked their heads into the hall and had heard everything as they saw Hangman turn and walk off. Phoenix shook her head and sighed, just as she saw Rooster walking down the corridor.

“I heard all that.” He said as he reached for her shoulder. She saw Bob, Payback, and Coyote also had looks of astonishment on their faces.

“So...Hangman and Sam?” Bob asked and Phoenix gave him a look that could've killed him if he wasn't immune to Phoenix death stares already. 

🛩🛩🛩

Just before Jake was about to leave Javy’s house for a dinner date with Sam, a bunch of his co-pilots came through the door. There was most likely a game on tv. Jake waited for everyone to file in before he tried to sneak out, but Phoenix was the last through the doorway and she stopped. Their  eyes locked and she asked if she could talk to him outside for a moment. Jake nodded and they walked back out the front to stand on the steps. Jake leaned against one side of the railing and Phoenix against the other. Bradley followed them, standing in the doorway.

“Bradley, it’s fine. I just wanna talk.” Phoenix said and he glared at Jake before shutting the door. Jake looked away, at anything but her. Her gaze was menacing, as if she was trying to bore a hole right through him. “Were you serious earlier?”

“Every bit.” Jake said, his jaw working as tension wracked his body. Phoenix chuckled to herself.

“Hangman has feelings. Who would’ve thought?” She said and his eyes glazed over, stare becoming unreadable. “There you are, back to Bagman. You put on a very good facade.”

“Well, I have to, otherwise people might think I’m soft. Or nice. God forbid I’m nice to anyone.” Jake said, shifting his weight from leaning on the railing to his feet with a wider stance.

“You don’t with her, do you? Why?” She asked and Jake shook his head and shrugged.

“Don’t feel like I need to. She sees right through it anyway.” He said and Phoenix nodded.

“Yeah, she’s always been good at that. Listen...Jake...I’m not gonna tell you don’t hurt her because you’ve heard it...I’ve said it...like you said...everyone has said it...but after thinking about what you said earlier...just please promise me you’ll be there for her when this all goes south...because it’s gonna soon. Her and I are best friends...but our paths have grown apart more than I thought they would...and if you’re gonna take my place as her main support...just be there...just be there whenever she asks for it...because I worry what she might do if someone isn’t there. She’s so damn stoic about all of this...she’s so good at hiding her emotions, just like you are, but I know deep down there’s a deep well of them that will eventually bubble to the surface and when they do...I don’t know how she’ll react. I don’t know what will happen...so just...be there Jake. Please.” Phoenix finished her monologue and Jake nodded.

“I can do that, Nat. I can, I promise.” He said and Phoenix stepped toward him and pulled him into a hug. 

“Have a good night then. Tell her I said hi.” Phoenix said as she let him go and stepped toward the door. Jake saluted her and headed toward his truck. He smiled as he climbed in and opened up his phone, the background a cute picture he had taken of Sam and Rocco earlier that week while they had been walking on the beach. He hasn't even felt his phone vibrate but he had a text. From Sam.

Sam; hey flyboy, you're late

He typed a response back.

Jake: sorry honeybun be there in a few

Her response was quick and it made Jake's heart nearly leap out of his chest.

Sam: can't wait to see you 😍

[humanitys-strongest-bamf]

Drunk | #LeviMonth2024 Fluff Drabble

✧ word count ➼ < 800 ✧ notes ➼ roommate!levi, levi taking care of you after drinking ✧ comments ➼ levi month entry for august 25! ✧ content/warnings ➼ alcohol obvs, but nothing sexual, just levi taking care of you :) ✧ join my levi month taglist here!

{{ August 24 (Crime + Secret Relationship Part 1) | August 28 (Crime + Secret Relationship Part 2) }} Masterlist

You had the weekend off, so you spent the night out with some friends. Having just been dropped off at home since you were far too inebriated to be able to navigate home from the bar on your own, you stumbled in through the front door after finally getting your keys in order.

Your eyebrows furrowed together as you noticed the lights that were still on despite the fact that it was well into the night. Your blurred gaze eventually fell onto Levi. You blinked at your roommate in surprise, not having expected him to be there.

"...the fuck are you doing here?" you asked, your words slightly slurred.

You were too far gone to be able to tell, but there was a subtle hint of concern that appeared in Levi's eyes the moment you stepped through the door while barely keeping your balance. He had known that you had gone out partying, but the fact that you were coming home this inebriated was something he had not been expecting.

"I live here, dumbass."

His tone was flat, with an emphasis on the insult that betrayed how agitated he truly was inside.

You didn't immediately respond, having forgotten that he had insomnia, despite the fact that you had been living together for a few years already.

"Oh."

Levi let out a barely audible groan as he set his phone down and stood up from the couch, crossing the room in a few strides to meet you where you were at.

"What happened?" he asked, concern evident in his voice despite the stern look on his face. He reached out to gently take your hand, helping you to steady yourself as he led you to the living room.

"Was just out with friends!"

He raised an eyebrow at your nonchalant response. Even for you, this was a bit much.

However, knowing that you could take care of yourself at the end of the day, in addition to the fact that it wasn't actually any of his business, he let the subject drop, focusing instead on guiding you over to the couch.

Once he got you seated safely, he swiftly went to the kitchen, grabbing a glass of water for you.

"You didn't drive, did you?"

"Of course I didn't drive, dumbass," you grumbled as you returned his insult. You sipped on the cold water, with the shock of the liquid immediately beginning the process of sobering you up, even if it was just by a slight amount.

He sighed in irritation, giving you a second to get your bearings before tapping on your shoulder to get your attention.

"Come on, let's get you to bed."

You groaned, rolling your eyes as you felt him gently tug on your arm to get you to stand up, wrapping his arm around your waist to help support you.

"I'll be fine," you insisted. "I'm not that drunk."

"Sure you aren't," he grumbled under his breath as he began dragging you towards your bedroom, kicking open the door since his hands were full with keeping you steady.

Ignoring your protests, he ushered you into your room, gently laying you down onto your bed before switching on the lights. Even in his sleep-deprived state, he could tell that you were far too drunk to be on your feet.

The hygiene enthusiast in him was tempted to drag you into the shower so you didn't feel like ass in the morning, knowing that being in alcohol-reeked clothes in addition to being hungover only compounded into one another, but he also didn't trust you in the water in your current state—and he certainly wasn't going to bathe you without your consent.

He knew that it likely would have been fine if he had left you on your own. Yet, he found himself growing increasingly protective over you and your well-being. A part of that came naturally from having lived with you for so long, but he knew that there was likely some other reason underneath the surface that he just didn't feel like diving into yet.

Before he knew it, you had fallen asleep. The edge of his lips slightly turned up at how quickly you had gotten settled in after stumbling in through the door. He threw the blanket over you so that you were at least somewhat covered before dimming the lights and leaving the room, bracing himself for the overwhelming hangover you were almost guaranteed to have the next morning.

#: @shayewrites @littlerequiem @i-lev-you @humanitys-strongest-brat @mostlilo @dustbuniesworld @levisrations @ebechnasheim @moonchild-angel @jayteacups @bipolargatto @samackermaan @deepzombieyouth @levkuna @levisfavoriteteashop @ackermanswifee @ae-chidori @2dsimpomg @anti-cupid

[sunnynwanda]

The Game: Part 2

Part 1

Warning: manipulation, cat-and-mouse vibe, electricity used for restraining (I have no idea how to phrase this). Let me know if I've missed anything.

It's been 72 hours since Villain's capture, and Hero was on the verge of insanity. The sudden loud fits of laughter at any time of day and night and, as a result, the lack of sleep were getting the best of them. Besides, their mind was buzzing - they were curious about why Villain had made no attempts to escape yet.

Villain looked ecstatic in the most twisted way possible. Hero could not, for the life of them, figure out why. They were locked up in a cell with thick bars that they could never bend. Even if they were strong enough to do that, the electric current would leave them paralysed for a significant amount of time and would alert Hero. They had no reason to be this smug and satisfied.

"For the love of god, shut the fuck up!" They slam their fist against the wall right outside the cell, exasperation colouring their voice delightfully. "For once in your life, stay quiet!"

Villain's grin is so broad Hero expects their goddamn face to crack open. It's the fourth visit that Hero has paid them this afternoon, after a long sleepless night and even longer morning. "Aw, you love my laugh, baby!"

"I fucking hate you," Hero retorts, eyes blazing. They can test the bitterness of the lie on their tongue. "And your cackling laugh."

No, they don't. They don't hate Villain. Not in the slightest. They do hate how insufferable they can get, though.

Villain snorts, shaking their head. They take a step forward, and Hero's expression twitches for a moment. Villain's tone is cocky, almost mocking. "You love this."

You love the game.

"Stop. You better stop." Hero's warning flies right over Villain's head as they step up close to the bars, wrapping one hand around one and allowing electricity to course through their body. The hair on their arms stands, their fingertips buzzing with excitement when their hand reaches through the bars, ghosting down Hero's chest.

"Y-you're absolutely deranged," Hero's voice is quieter now, their concern evident in their furrowed brow as they glance at the hand travelling down the front of their body. "But, you're not a mad scientist."

"Oh?" Villain tilts their head to the side, smirking as they await Hero's explanation. Their long fingers reach Hero's belt, hooking into it to drag Hero closer with a sickening smile. They lick their lips, the action seeming to capture Hero's attention.

Hero's throat is drier than the dessert. They inhale deeply through the nose, their lips remaining sealed shut.

"What am I then? Mmm?" Villain moans out, eyes rolling into the back of their head as they slide their hand around Hero's waist, fingers digging into their flesh before gripping their belt again.

"You're just mad," Hero snarls, entirely done with their bullshit. Whatever this act is, it's still an act, and they will be damned if they fall for it. They push Villain's hand off them, feeling its shameful absence almost instantly as they back away. "Without the science part."

"Wanna bet?" Villain muses, their voice dripping with honey. It's unsettling and eerie - it sends a shiver down Hero's spine despite the bars separating them from their nemesis. They step back, winking at Hero before trailing towards their bed.

Hero shakes their head with a sigh as they retreat into the office, trying to ignore the lingering memory of Villain's hand on them.

Villain chuckles, twirling the tiny key between their fingers as they lay on their ascetic bed. They cannot wait for the night to arrive.

It's pitch black in the corridor, with no light penetrating the tiny window under the ceiling. Villain takes a deep breath to contain their excitement as they sneak along, their back pressed to the wall. They can't make out anything in the total darkness, instead counting their steps. Once they get to the general area, they use their sensitive palms to detect the change from stone to glass. Villain feels for the keyhole and, upon locating it, pulls out the key they stole from Hero's belt. They glide in and start searching for a switch when the lights flash on, illuminating the entire laboratory and Hero, sitting on one of the tables with their hands crossed over their chest.

"Holy s-" Villain jumps, clutching their chest with an exaggerated gasp, earning a chuckle from Hero.

"Hello," they smirk, satisfied with the effect. Villain's alarmed look brings more pleasure than they expected. "Did you think I'm that stupid?"

Villain quirks an eyebrow at them, tempted to say yes solely for the noble purpose of annoying Hero into oblivion. They shake their head with a wide grin. "No, you're worse."

Hero huffs, sliding off the table and taking a - hopefully - intimidating step towards Villain. "You think I didn't figure you wanted to get me worn out? So I would lose focus and miss you stealing the key?"

"Well, why did you let me take it then?" Villain counters, their expression becoming unreadable. They can't deny Hero is smart enough to understand they would not remain in the cell for that long had they not had a secret agenda. And an agenda they have. They need that goddamn device.

"Wanted to see what it was that you so desperately wanted," Hero explains, maintaining a calm demeanour.

"Apart from you?" Villain fails to keep the words from rolling off their lips. Hero appears unamused, so they sigh, raising their hands to indicate surrender. "Okay, fine. I want that little thing over there. So, let me take it, and I'll be out of your hair."

Hero follows the direction they are pointing in, and their jaw all but drops. "OD-8? As in, the deadly nerve gas with unknown effects? Are you insane?"

"I thought we had established that..." Villain trails off in an attempt to seem nonchalant. "But I really want it! An-and I can promise not to use it on you?" They plead, going so far as to muster up a puppy-eyed look.

"Do you think I'm a complete idiot?" Hero snorts, unimpressed by both the promise and begging. "No way in hell."

"But-" Villain looks nothing short of a kid deprived of their favourite candy. Hero would laugh if they didn't know better.

"No buts. And no way you're getting it." They cut, their voice devoid of emotion. Villain's face falls, causing Hero to sigh. They rub their eyebrow for a moment, thinking. "Fine. You can take one can of paralytic. That's the only thing I can offer you."

Villain's eyes light up immediately. Hero chuckles, handing Villain the promised can and ushering them out of the lab. They take the key back and make sure to lock the door before turning to face their nemesis.

"Now, get out of here before I change my mind," Villain darts up the stairs with a jump in their steps, and Hero starts to doubt their decision. They knew succumbing was not the best bet, but their dimwitted genius needed something to play with, and they felt safer choosing what to give them.

A part of them suspects that was what Villain had initially wanted and that they are going to end up paralysed and kidnapped in the upcoming days in retaliation for the arrest. But, as long as they get a good night's rest and Villain's stupid cute laugh, they don't mind it all that much.

And the game goes on.

Part 1

A/N: I seem to have a problem with the tags for some reason... If I fail to tag you in this, I'm sorry 🙏 If you happen to read this, let me know what you think. Thank you!

Love you 💛

xo Sunny ☀️

Masterlist

Taglist: @marvellousdaisy @alltimelowing @lateuplight @surplus-of-sarcasm @betwist @excusemeasibangmyheadonawall @enemies-to-idiots-to-lovers @miaowmelodie @thatonerandomauthor @hhabaddon @burningoutlikeicarus @daemonvatis @weepingcowboywolfbat @thelazywitchphotographer @kaiwewi @soul-of-a-local-bard @pigeonwhumps @aflyingsheepnamedrose  @thatneptune @ohwellthatslifesstuff @worldsfromhoney @thiefofthecrowns @crow-with-a-typewriter @qualityrabbitsoup @stargeode @villain-life @villainsblood @whumpific @glassthedumbass @silviathebard @misskowe @ayeshaturnedtoashes4444

[hyuckdyuck]

Living Rent Free

Haechan x F!reader

Intro

WC: 1118k

Y/N sighed heavily, slipping her phone into her pocket as her eyes scanned the chaotic mess in front of her. Her belongings were scattered everywhere—clothes, books, random knick knacks—all haphazardly thrown out into the hallway. The remnants of her life in this apartment now lay in disarray, and the faint sound of laughter echoed from behind the closed door of her now ex-roommate’s room. They were clearly celebrating her departure.

She let out a frustrated groan, running a hand through her hair as she crouched down to assess the damage. First, the most important item—her laptop. Her heart sank when she found it lying on the floor, screen completely detached from the keyboard. She picked up the two pieces and turned them over in her hands, but it was clear this thing wasn’t coming back to life.

“Perfect,” she muttered under her breath, setting it aside in the growing pile of wrecked and mistreated belongings.

Biting back her rising anger, she decided to just get to work. Starting with her clothes, she carefully separated them into a somewhat organized pile before carrying them down the hallway toward the building’s shared lifts. She’d have to make a dozen trips at this rate, but at least the physical effort kept her mind off the seething frustration bubbling under the surface.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket, but she ignored it for now, focusing instead on getting the first load downstairs.

The lift dinged, announcing her arrival to the ground floor. As the doors slid open, Y/N immediately spotted two familiar faces waiting for her—Mark and Jeno. A wave of relief washed over her, loosening the tight knot in her chest.

Jeno’s eyes lit up when he saw her, his famous eye smile spreading across his face. Mark, however, looked more concerned, his hand already rubbing the back of his neck as his gaze flicked between her and the precarious tower of clothes she was struggling to balance.

“Did you not have a bag or something?” Mark asked, his voice tinged with mild disbelief as he motioned at the wobbling pile in her arms.

Y/N sighed, stepping out of the lift with careful, measured movements. “I did, but apparently my ex-roommate thought it’d be hilarious to keep it for themselves.”

Before she could even adjust her grip, Jeno was already in front of her, taking half of the pile with ease. “Here, I’ve got this,” he said, flashing her a reassuring smile.

“Thanks,” she muttered, her shoulders finally relaxing a little as the weight was lifted.

Mark’s frown deepened as he glanced toward the lift, his arms crossed. “Is this all of it?”

Y/N shook her head, her lips pressing into a thin line. “Not even close. There’s a whole mess still upstairs.”

Mark exchanged a quick look with Jeno, his brows furrowing in frustration. “Alright, let’s get moving. You’re not carrying all this on your own.”

Jeno nodded, already heading toward the nearest bench to set her clothes down. “You’re lucky we came early,” he teased, though his tone was gentle. “Mark was about to send out a search party after he saw your tweet.”

Y/N snorted, the tension in her chest finally easing just a little more. “Yeah, well, I wasn’t expecting to get kicked out like it’s some bad reality show.”

“Good thing you’ve got us, then,” Mark added firmly, stepping into the lift. “Let’s get the rest of your stuff and get out of here.”

Jeno ran out to Mark's car, placing the pile of clothes into the boot, meanwhile you and Mark remained standing by the lift. “This fucking sucks man.”  Y/n sighs “Like i didnt even do anything this time? I thought we had fixed things.” Mark just shakes his head and sighs.

After Jeno returns, the three of them head up to the floor of the apartment. Y/n trails behind Mark and Jeno slowly, not really wanting to see the scene all over again.

“Wow,” Jeno muttered, surveying the chaos. “They really went all out, huh?”

Mark’s frown deepened as he took in the scene. He shot Y/N a glance, his concern evident. “Are you sure you don’t want me to talk to them? Like, seriously. This isn’t okay.”

Y/N shook her head quickly, her lips pressing into a thin line. “No. It’s not worth it. Let’s just get my stuff and go.”

Mark didn’t look convinced, but he nodded. “Alright. But if they say anything while we’re here—”

“They won’t,” Y/N cut him off, crouching to pick up a stack of books that had been dumped from her shelves. She tried to ignore the sound of laughter coming from behind her ex-roommate’s door. Her chest tightened at the thought of them sitting in there, probably mocking her, but she kept her head down.

Jeno knelt beside her, scooping up a couple of stray notebooks. “You know, I could always accidentally kick a hole through their door. Purely by mistake, of course.”

Y/N snorted, a small smile tugging at her lips despite everything. “Tempting, but no. Let’s just focus on getting this done.”

Mark sighed, muttering under his breath about people needing to grow up as he grabbed one of her bags and slung it over his shoulder. “Do you even know what all this is? It looks like your whole life got dumped out here.”

“It kind of is,” Y/N replied, standing up and brushing off her knees.

Mark shook his head, his expression tight. “You didn’t deserve this, Y/N. They’re idiots.”

“Yeah, well,” she muttered, glancing at the door as more muffled laughter echoed from inside, “it’s over now. Let’s just get out of here.”

Jeno handed her a small, neatly folded pile of clothes. “Here, you carry this. We’ll handle the rest. You’ve had a rough enough day already.”

“Jeno, it’s my stuff. I can’t just—”

“Y/N,” Mark cut in, his tone soft but firm, “let us help you. Please.”

She hesitated, looking between the two of them. Their determination was clear, and honestly, she wasn’t sure she had the energy to argue. With a sigh, she relented. “Fine. But if you break anything, you’re replacing it.”

Jeno grinned, already reaching for a precariously stacked box of kitchen supplies. “Deal.”

Mark picked up a duffel bag, slinging it over his shoulder as he glanced down the hall toward the lift. “Alright, let’s get moving. I don’t want to give them any more time to start something.”

Y/N nodded, smiling at the boys. The quicker they got out of there, the better.

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