#fear is not how you should rule yourself or others

[yanderenightmare]

hey, marie! i have a question for the helpdesk!

any advice for what to describe in a scene? I find myself just sticking to the plot points, which are just action-based, but it's always sorta boring in the end.

I guess my question is how to make scenes feel natural and richer without descriptions becoming excessive?

On Scene Descriptions

Great question!

What Can You Put in a Scene?

Honestly? Absolutely anything. Anything you can think of. Anything at all.

From describing objects and surroundings, to character descriptions, their inner thoughts, memories, associations, emotions, tone of voice, dialogue, body language, facial expressions, actions, and interactions.

Anything and everything, and all things I’ll cover down below.

And so, first off…

Scenery!

Describe the surroundings. 

Where are we? What place is it? What's around? What sticks out? Observations! Is stuff new or old? Expensive or cheap? Any wear and tear, or is everything perfectly up to code? Is it dirty or clean? Messy or tidy? Is it dark or bright? Are we inside or outside? Is it day or night? What’s the weather like? 

But don’t just focus on what you can see, use all five senses to your advantage! Is it hot and humid or cold and brisk? Is there an odor? Can you taste it on your tongue? Is there anything around that makes a sound like a waterfall in the distance, bird chatter, club chatter, or a very annoying clock on the wall?

Show, Don't Tell gets important here. A phrase writers hear a lot. But what does it actually mean?

Well! Showing vs Telling basically states that describing something through visual detail is more convincing than using a simple standalone verb or noun. 

Take a forest, for example. You can state that your character is traveling through a forest, but a forest isn’t very descriptive. 

What kind of forest is it? Where is it? What’s in it? 

A rainforest is humid and hot. A birch forest is flat with skinny trees. An oak forest has a lot of branches and a ton of roots you can trip over. A pine forest is dark and misty, growing scarcer the higher up the mountain you travel. Is it an overgrown and bewildering forest, or a beautiful and enchanting one? Is the canopy thick, blocking out the light, or open and bright?

Furthermore, a forest has plenty of other things aside from just trees, like moss beds, rocks, tracks, mushrooms, wind, fresh scents, foul scents, animal noises, creaky old branches, caves that moan, shrubs that rustle, plants, bushes of berries, poisonous things, fallen leaves, barnacles, twigs on the ground, markings on the treestems, carvings left by former travelers, trash, long-forgotten cabins that might not be as abandoned as originally believed, animal dung, streams, lakes, waterfalls, sudden cliffs, dead trees, fallen trees, uprooted trees, rotting animal carcases, skeletal remains, and so many other things…

So basically, what Showing vs Telling wants you to do is paint the scene. Don’t just tell the reader they’re in a forest, or a shopping mall, or in the mountains, or at school—describe it to them. And again, don’t just focus on what you can see—taste, touch, scent, and sound are just as important!

An easy tip is to simply put yourself in the shoes of the character, close your eyes, and imagine being there, then describe that experience.

This also applies to—

Emotions!

Through the rules of Show-Don't-Tell, you should focus on describing body language and facial cues instead of standalone verbs.

Take fear, for example. You can say your character is scared, but, like anything, being scared is an arbitrary emotion and can essentially mean anything from feeling somewhat anxious to absolutely terrified beyond wit’s end. 

So instead of simply saying they’re scared, you’ll describe what they look like or do or think when they’re scared. 

Think cold sweat, stammering, shivering, feeling frozen, having big eyes, a beating chest, being lock-jawed, or screaming while making a run for it. 

Again, put yourself in the shoes of the character and describe every sensation and observation you can think of, like you’re trying to sell the emotion to your readers.

You can also play around and use the character’s inner thoughts to do this.

Take love, for example. Sure, you can say that a character is in love. But again, there are many different types of love out there. So, how does this character experience love?

This is where inner thoughts work magic:

You’re looking at him and he does everything in his power to act cool—act cool, act cool, act fucking cool. His heart’s beating with the bass of a drum—he wonders if you can hear it from where you sit. God, how embarrassing. You’re just studying together, and he can’t even focus enough to read a single sentence. He hasn’t turned the page once, and you’ve already made a whole book’s worth of notes. That’s why you’re staring at him, isn’t it? You’re probably wondering what’s wrong with him, and it’s a good question. He’s wondering as well—what is wrong with him?

The word love or crush isn’t used once, and yet, describing that feeling through showing or, in this case, inner thinking, paints a better picture of this character’s experience than it would have if it were to have been disclosed from the get-go that the character was in love.

This way, it also becomes a better journey for the reader, as if they're getting brought along on the discovery with the character.

All this being said, however, it’s not as if you’re not allowed to simply tell it how it is sometimes. Not everything needs to be disclosed in close detail all the time—but that’s something we’ll revisit later in the post.

For now, let’s move on to lights, camera—

Action!

You mention that too many action descriptions become boring. I agree! They're monotone and weak on their own and should be followed up with other scene-describing methods or joined with dialogue.

I feel like the difference between a good action sequence and a bad action sequence is that one feels like you're lining up one and one domino, whereas the other one feels like you're watching dominos fall after each other. One is work, the other is payoff.

It should be payoff.

But how do you make it feel like falling dominoes? It's not always easy, but try to limit the number of actions that happen at random and make everything happen for a reason—reactions and objectives over standalone actions. Why are the characters doing what they're doing? What made them do what they're doing? What are they trying to achieve? Is something hindering them? Is something working to their advantage? What are they thinking and feeling while doing what they're doing? And does that have any effect on how they're doing what they're doing?

Furthermore, what they've now done should be the direct cause or kickstart of the next action, and so on and so forth.

When you have two characters in a scene, you should make the action volley between them. He does this, which made her do this, but then he did this, and she had to do this.

Otherwise, if there's only one character in a scene, you should volley between action and inner thought. As I mentioned earlier, walk us through their thought process. Why are they doing what they're doing?

On another note, I often feel that actions are underrated. Or rather, that they’re often not used to their full potential.

Let’s go back to the forest real quick. Yes, the character is walking through the forest.

But what does it really entail to walk through a forest? What happens?

You get tired, of course! You get sweaty, you get dirty, weariness turns to exhaustion, you're thirsty, you're hungry, now you're cold, you're anxious to get to where you're going, you're not entirely sure if you're going the correct way, and oh my god, you're lost!

On yet another note!

Actions are described when characters do something, obviously. And they tend to do something when the plot requires it.

But actions can be used to describe the scene in ways visual descriptions can’t. So, don't just make your characters react and interact with each other; make them do so with the scenery.

Again, yes, our character is walking through the forest. That’s the action the plot requires. However, there are so many actions that’ll make the experience more vivid. For example, make the character touch things—make them balance themselves against trees and feel the branches they duck under. This way, you can describe the rough texture of bark against the character’s palm and really immerse the reader. Make the character trip and fall, and there are suddenly new opportunities. Make them climb, make them tired, make them start running because of a sound they heard, make them kick leaves, have them pick up a stick out of boredom, make them collect rocks, make them juggle as they walk. Again, there are so many options to make the scene more vivid.

Replace basic scene descriptions with scene interactions such as this, pair the entire thing with dialogue, and it'll read like a movie!

Something we'll also discuss later on, but for now, onto—

Characters!

Now, I've already described emotions and inner thoughts, which are what tell your reader most about the character.

But, appearance-based character descriptions are also neat!

Facial features, quirky things like scars and beauty marks, freckles, eye colors, skin color, hair color, how all those colors are different in different lighting, glowy skin, dry skin, patchy skin, oily skin. Have they showered? Do they wear makeup? What are they wearing? How are they wearing it? A shirt can be so many things—ironed, crumpled, buttoned up or buttoned down, patterned, white, dirty, loose, tight-fitted, tailored, cheap or expensive. Are they’re shoes well-worn or newly bought? Any piercings? Where and what type? Gold or silver? And since they have one on their lip, might it make you wonder if they have others in places unseen? Any tattoos? Where and what type? Traditional black or colored? Badly inked or impressive? Original or cliche? Muscles or not? Does it make you wonder how much they hit the gym? Any bruising? Bloody knuckles, scuffed knees, crooked nose, black eyes, popped lip. Do they have neat hair? Does it look like they frequent the hairdresser? Is it their natural color? Have they even brushed it today?

Yeah, I think you get it. Description can and should tell a lot about a character.

And if I haven’t made it clear yet, descriptions should be telling the story. Which also means that they shouldn't be used haphazardly. But again, that’s something we’ll return to later in the post.

But, before that, we must lastly cover—

Dialogue!

At this point, we’ve gone over different methods of describing a scene, but as you mentioned, a text can quickly become quite heavy if it’s solely based on descriptions alone.

This is where dialogue becomes an author’s best friend.

Dialogue is the easiest way to breathe fresh air into a text when you feel you've only been writing action sequences or long spouts of descriptions. Dialogue will break up body text like no other.

At the same time, however, dialogue is also a double-edged sword for the same reason. So even when it gives us a break from long-winded descriptions, it can be a little tricky to glue things back together again when you’ve made that break.

On top of that, making dialogue feel fluid is tricky for plenty of other reasons as well. First off, there are only so many times you can use the word said.

To be honest, if my draft didn’t start off with a lot of dialogue, I have a really hard time implementing it at any other point. And so, I don’t have too many tips right here other than saying that dialogue doesn’t always have to be isolated between “quotation marks”.

For reference sake, here’s an example of a very action-based story that has dialogue, but zero bunny ears: The Quartering Act.

Another tip is that you don’t always have to refer to the person who said something after they said it. It’s fine to simply skip to an action or other description. Let your readers do what they do best and read between the lines. They’ll know from context who it was that said what. This way, you won’t exhaust the usage of the word said and its synonyms.

Lastly, try to use different ways of breaking up dialogue. Explaining the character's tone of voice works once, then it remains spent until their tone of voice changes. Meanwhile, it’s time to use other descriptions. Having a list of synonyms for said is very useful. But you should also try to play around with other options, such as breaking dialogue with inner thoughts, actions, emotions, sudden associations, minor flashbacks, and other disturbances that come naturally.

What I’ve found useful is giving the character something to hold and fiddle with or something to do while they’re talking. This gives you more options other than needing to repeat she-said-he-said.

Again, for reference sake, here’s another short example: Stay. Read it and you’ll see how that entire conversation could have just as easily happened while they were still in bed, but by making the reader move around while looking for something, the entire scene becomes more lively with better flow.

Again, my biggest piece of advice is to try to immerse yourself and see what things you think you would feel, think, and focus on if you were the one talking or listening.

Now, finally, in order to use all of the things we’ve just covered, you need to—

Know The Scene!

Yeah, you can put anything in a scene. But does that mean that everything should go in a scene?

No.

As you mentioned, too much description becomes excessive, and only describing actions becomes monotone. Too much of anything is tedious to read, and a sure-fire way to stifle the momentum.

Take character descriptions, for instance. If it's our first time seeing a character, then of course, a description of his features and attire is warranted. But there's no need to give a full description of someone the reader knows every time they walk into a scene. The name alone will suffice. Unless, of course, there’s something fundamentally off about the character this time around. But otherwise, no, your reader does not need to know what someone is wearing every time they enter the scene.

Additionally, it also depends on whose point of view we're looking at things from. Meaning, if a character walks into a scene that’s new to the reader, but well-known by the character holding the point of view, it might be more natural to describe what relationship they have with each other in a string of inner thoughts and less natural to go into detail about their hair and the color of their eyes as the one holding the point of view is probably not going to be focusing on those details. You can still mention it throughout the text when it becomes natural to do so, but bombarding the reader with a whole paragraph of appearance descriptions is often unnecessary, boring, and sometimes even a little disorienting.

Similarly, if the scene takes place inside the home of the character with the point of view, we shouldn’t receive a full description of their house. Why would they be focusing on what type of pictures are up on the mantle or if their sofa is made of leather and has embroidered throw pillows? That’s an observation made by an outsider. But we’re supposed to feel like we’ve been here countless times before. And so the place shouldn’t be introduced as anything new, but completely familiar. So instead, we’ll focus on anything that’s out of the ordinary. Such as if anything has fallen out of their designated place, if there are dishes left out, if the character is only now noticing how the wall paint is starting to chip, how they remember when they first picked out that color. Anything you might think of when walking around in your own house.

Again, obviously, if we’re following the point of view of another character who is entering this house for the first time, it would be natural to describe their observations of the place.

But anyway, returning to my point. Yes, anything can go in a scene, but you should only keep the things that work to the advantage of the scene.

And that’s where the editor side of authorship steps in for the creator, and you start making some critical decisions where you’ll have to be tough and strike those things you’ve written that don’t work in favor of the scene.

In other words, all scenes are different because they all have a specific purpose to achieve. To know which of the listed literary devices to use, you first need to identify the purpose of each scene and create focal points for the reader. 

What’s really important here? What should be the takeaway? What’s the point of this scene? And what does the scene need in order to further that point?

If you want to slow things down to create suspense, more descriptions should be added for longer pauses. If it's a fast action-based scene, you'll want to keep descriptions short and concise to create a fluid domino effect. If it's an emotional scene, you'll want to focus on inner thoughts and body language to immerse the reader in those feelings. And meanwhile, on top of everything, there’s also dialogue to weave in.

This is all complicated stuff, and not something you learn overnight or by reading this Helpdesk edition. It’s taken me years, and I mean years, to learn any of this, and it’s still not a hundred percent.

It’s truly nothing short of a fucked up thing, because something that works in one scene won’t always work in another scene, even when they’re similar. There are plenty of scenes I post where I’m not happy with the flow, where I’ve given up on finding the right sentences, words, and structure to make it perfect for myself. But that’s the name of the game. You’re not going to get it right every time. But you can be sure that every time, good or bad, is another step towards betterment.

And so, hope this helped and good luck!

[wittyworm]

taino teachings are realigning my entire mindset. everything is. making more and more sense the more i read. Yoka hu (the father) and Ata Bey ( the mother) are both inside me . spiritually and physically. i have always said, for many years that i did not understand the concept of gender how this society is teaching it, because i am both my father and mother in body and spirit, but also wholly myself, and i need to respect myself, and how i've been feeling for so so long. it's all making so much sense.

[masoncantthinkofaname]

My advice as someone who has shifted many times

Got some really sweet comments on my last post, and I decided I should probably get myself over my fear of posting here. I just love everyone in this community, you're all family to me💚

First, and most importantly, coffee:

When I posted my introduction here, a couple of months ago, I felt like I was already quite an experienced shifter. 4 kids, the most amazing husband, a life outside of this reality longer than I lived within it.

Looking back on it now, more than 500 years later, 3 more kids, 4 grandchildren, I was almost like a baby still, and even at this moment in time, I feel like I'm only at the start of my journey.

However, for the people that know my tiktok account, I have shifted to a lot of places by now. Experienced immortality as a human, as a deity, I've seen different cultures practice shifting, and taught shifting to every single one of me and my husband's children.

My main purpose in coming back here, is to help others achieve what I finally managed after years of trying. I want you all to pursue your dreams, and find the infinite happiness you so deserve.

So here is some advice:

Shifting itself is extremely simple. You want something, you get it. The concept of the reality that we're in doesn't allow for instant 'manifestations', but that doesn't mean you can't do it. It just means that, this reality by itself, doesn't have the rule of ''you desire something = you get it.'' That's where humans came up with the term ''manifestation,'' but it's simple really; you persist in wanting something, so you shift somewhere you have it. How easy that is can depend on the person, but every single one is capable of doing it, it's not technically any more difficult.

There are realities out there where, ''you want something'' does equal ''you get it,'' the term manifestation wouldn't even exist in those places, it's just as natural as it is for you here to feel as though you struggle attracting your desires.

I do not want to be rude to anyone, but there is no key to shifting. Anyone claiming they have the method to shift, or know the key to it, is overcomplicating it. Shifting is shifting, you don't need anything for it. Just existing, being aware, that's all you need to shift. HOW you do it, depends on the person. Assumptions, methods, intention, they're all tools to help you, but they're not the key.

You can shift while showering, while taking a dump, you can jump in the air and yell ''Yippie!!!'' to shift if you would believe that it works. An actual method? A joke method? There's no difference between them. The only real difference? You assume one to work, and one to not do anything, and that's where our limited mindsets are created.

I've seen so many different groups by now. People that shifted through meditation, through rituals, a group that would quite literally dive into a lake that they saw as magic, but also people that simply just, decided they wanted it, and shifted seconds later. They were raised with those beliefs, so they work for them.

And you here? You're raised in a society that tells you that you have to work for what you want, that a dream life is impossible, nothing is for free. And then you wonder why you struggle with shifting, why it's so hard to believe that you can do something so incredibly simple. Your struggles are valid, it is not your fault.

As an awareness you're so much more than the 3d, you're so much more than the body or brain you're aware of. You're simply a guest in this body, until it expires or you choose yourself to move on, but that doesn't take away that while you're here, you have to deal with your experiences, memories, and taught mindsets from this place.

That's why, the biggest advice I can give you, is to listen to yourself. Not society, not other people, no one who tries to tell you that they know ''the way.'' If someone's method aligns with you, that is amazing, and definitely put it to practice. But don't force yourself to go through methods and practices that don't feel right for you. If you dread doing it, it's not for you. Find something fun, something that fits your routines and beliefs.

Remember that time has no meaning. 5 days, 5 months, it's not going to matter in 3000 years. Literally nothing can stop your existence, nothing that could happen to you in this reality can ever stop you from existing.

There is no pressure, eternity is waiting for you, be kind to yourself. You are exactly where you're meant to be. It doesn't matter how you shift, so don't make it a chore. Script, create scenarios, daydream, make up your own rituals or find the most fun ways to set intention. You don't need hour long methods of counting, starfish positions and difficult affirmations. Your desires are already heard, your subconscious already knows where you want to go, so enjoy the ride until you get there💚

[kurohe]

Things you can do to actively participate in the revolution

Here's the list !

I know some of those will look really silly, i promise they are not. And obviously, this is not a checklist, you don't have to do everything. But they're steps that you can absolutely take if you wish to, and they WILL help.

(i am continually correcting things when people point out mistakes. Thanks everyone for your help)

(under the cut !)

1) Let's start off with a very easy one you can do right now: stop using Chrome. It's a google owned browser, and it sents all of your data towards it. Mozilla is a very good replacement, but almost anything will do, really. Also, resign your amazon prime subscription. We revolting against capitalism as a whole, and this is a good first step to not freely give em your data and money

2) Start stealing things from supermarkets and malls. I am not kidding. Little things, that aren't really monitored: a can of food, a lighter, a pair of socks. Condiments are particularly easy to hide in bags or pockets. Steal hygiene products, steal food.

Remember that you should have access to those for free, and you don't because a few rich guys don't want you to.

Additional tip: train station stores are very easy to steal from, because they're so busy. But don't put yourself in danger. Check beforehand if they check bags at checkout, look out for employees that might notice what you're doing. Don't be reckless.

(edit: imma say this, you should read up on what the risks of stealing are, for you and others. Stealing from big stores is IMO always morally right, but it is risky for many reasons. Be careful)

3) In the same line, if you see someone stealing anything from a big store, no you didn't.

4) I know a lot of people are scared of disrespecting rules. By fear of being caught, or by guilt. My advice is: start disrespecting stupid, meaningless rules. I don't have specific exemples, but you'll encounter them and wonder why you're doing that. Stop doing it. This will train you to be able to disobey autority way easier.

5) Put stickers everywhere. If you already have them, go ham. Especially on public property (lamposts are amazing). If you don't, buy them from artists or independant stores, not big brands. If you cannot afford them, remember that you can simply write stuff on an A4 paper and plaster it to walls. Or even post its !

6) Carry a sharpie with you at all time, the big black ones. If you see propaganda, scribble it out. Keep a look out for terfs stickers, maga posters, etc. Also good for getting rid of transphobic and sexist stuff written on public restroom stalls !

7) Buy locally. This means going to the market or small stores, and thrifting your clothes. If you can't for money or accessibility reasons, try trading with your friends, family and neighbours. Get communication going in your circles, and you'll realise there are a lot of things that you can simply trade with or buy from people around you. Like a jar of jam against some eggs, or a pair of socks for a t-shirt you don't wear anymore !

8) Learn how to sew. I know, that sounds dumb ! But i promise you, not only will it be amazing to trade with other people ("i'll sew back ur shirt and in exchange, you give me a can of peaches !"), corporations also haaaate when you know how to fix your clothes. Because they want you to buy more. You'll spend a lot less money if you know how to fix em

9) If you have the space and the money, grow your own food, and share it or sell it around you. Be careful, some assholes will call the FDA on you. Do that with people you trust.

Additional tip: growing vegetables and fruits can be a real nightmare. You can absolutely start by just growing some basil or mint :)

10) Organise. Join leftist groups online, even if it's just to see what's being said, you don't even need to interact. Follow creators, repost and share their content. By doing that, you'll stay informed on group movements like strikes, protests and boycotts, which you can then participate in. It's very important you're connected to other ppl and the movements that are started !

11) Unionize. I'm very sorry I don't know the exact way unions work in the US, but if you can, join one. They will help you in times of needs, especially if you're a student or a worker. If you're not sure how to do that, absolutely ask around to people you know are very active politically, around you or online. People will help.

12) Stay. Informed. Follow independant papers and news outlet. If you can afford it, give them a dollar or two. They are fighting everyday for access to unbiased information for all, and sadly, their independance means that they rely almost entirely on donations and people simply engaging with what they put out.

If you can't access those: do not get your news from TV. Ever. Or anywhere else that has been bought by the far right. Sadly, the majority of TV channels are just the worst.

And, most importantly: fact check. All of the time.

13) Share that information. Talk to those you trust and who are ready to listen to you, and tell them about what's happening. Get angry with them. Revolution stems from people coming together and realising that they're being used and profited off of. Share videos and posts relating to politics, especially informative videos.

14) Go to protests ! If you've never been, i know it can be scary. But you can stay in the middle (don't go all the way to the front, that's where stuff can get heated) and scream and walk with everyone else. You'll meet people who, like you, want things to change. Capitalism wants you to stay as unconnected to others as possible, and that's a great way to fight that.

Sometimes, there are sites that have a planning for all protests happening in a city. Look up if one exists for yours

15) Create and strenghten community. I know i really struggled with this one, because it's so vague. But here's a few places you can start:

-Go and introduce yourself to your neighbours, if you deem it safe. Give them a little gift if you can afford it, like a pack of pasta.

-Make new friends, even if they aren't deep friendships. You need connections. Online or irl, both are fine- don't stay isolated.

-If you already have community, go check on them right now. Ask your friends how they're doing, and if they need anything- ask how they're being impacted by what's happening right now politically.

16) Look for ways to fuck over the institutions in easy ways. One example that went around tumblr a lot is letting dandelions grow in your backyard, because landlords fucking hate it. If you work in retail or fast food, cheat. Accidentally forget to scan the diapers. Put in 7 nuggets instead of 6.

(edit: been told that it's very risky for walmart workers to not scan things, so beware.)

17) Engage in art. MAKE art. Music, shitty paint drawings, craft, anything as long as you're being creative. Share it. If you feel like you can't do that, then support artists. Make a point to look up cool illustrations, and new music. Go to the cinema.

If you're an artist currently in an underpaid office job, please, by the love of god, be creative during office hours. You're underpaid, they do not deserve your full time and attention. Take 30 minutes to write that snippet you've been thinking about.

(and actually, if you're underpaid at all: do the minimum required. So that you can't be fired, but that's it. Any more effort is not worth it. Companies will never be thankful for what you do.)

18) Look up books that your state banned, and go read them. You can get them secondhand, or as pdfs online. (if anyone needs ressources, i will glady look for and share them.)

And, actually, read books in general if you can. Yes, fanfics count !

19) Seek education. There's a lot of youtube channels out there talking about educational subjects in a fun way. Some things the rich assholes who run the country specifically don't want you to learn more about are: biology, history and archeology, social and economic sciences. GO LEARN ABOUT THOSE.

The people in power don't want you to be educated. It's why they eviscerated the education system.

20) PIRATE. I cannot stress this enough, anything you can pirate (that isn't from small, indie creators, except if you absolutely can't afford it) do it. Download music illegally, torrent movies and games. If you want access to academical studies and papers, some writers will give them to you for free if you email them about it. There are also ways to go around paywalls.

21) Don't fall for the traps of "progressive brands". Lately, i've seen a lot of praise for Ben and Jerry's for openly supporting lgbtq rights and being globally anti-trump. They are still a brand. Avoid buying from any big names when you can. That being said, if you have to, check beforehand which ones and what their history is. Some are more evil than others.

Additional tip: a lot of brands you see in stores are actually owned by bigger brands. One prime example of this is Nestle, who are fucking evil, but they own a shitload of other big names. Be careful what you buy.

22) I hate to say this, but be prepared to defend yourself. Revolutions are never peaceful. You will get in danger. If you can, get in ok physical shape. Learn how to run fast and fight well.

If none of those are available options to you, please, make sure you have someone around you that will be able to protect you, or a place where you can be safe. Whether you are disabled, a minor, or anything else. Don't put yourself in more danger than is necessary.

(this used to also include getting a gun. I deleted it because i don't feel comfortable recommending this. But it's still an option.)

23) Last but not least, be kind. When someone cuts off a woman speaking, interrupt and give her the floor back. Shame those who think it's right to say bigoted shit in public. Listen to those around you. If you can't act, then remember to always have empathy for the homeless, for drug users, for immigrants. Understand they are people just like you. You are not immune to propaganda and prejudice, no matter who you are. Always question yourself and your biases.

(if you've read this far, please repost. We need this to reach as many people as possible)

I want to remind you that you're not alone. I know things seem hopeless, but the simple fact that you're reading this is proof it's not. I don't live in the US, but i'm supporting you as best i can from where i am, and sending you strenght.

If you have any questions, do ask away. I'll end on this image that's very dear to me:

[multific]

A Goddess' Love

Emperor Geta x Goddess!Reader

Warnings: mention of blood, spoilers for Gladiator II. 

Summary: As the Goddess of Chaos and war, you took a liking to the new Emperors especially the younger one.

You loved violence.

You adored blood and bloodshed.

It brought you such joy when the Colosseum was built. Truly a place of wonder. You often sat amongst the crowd, enjoying the games.

When the new Emperors stepped up to rule, you smiled.

You knew you were going to like them.

Especially Geta.

His thirst for blood and his mind particularly interested you.

You wanted to get to know him, not just watch him from afar. You knew Gods weren't supposed to interact with mortals.

But you also didn't care.

You decided to head to one of their parties and enjoy yourself.

With a glass of wine in one hand you sat further from the crowd of people. 

"And what does a Dove like yourself do all alone?" the voice came as no surprise, you sensed his presence.

You looked at Emperor Geta and bowed your head.

"I apologise, my Emperor, I am not a big fan of crowds."

"Why decide to attend a party then?"

"I wished to see my Emperors and the wine is good," you said as you lifted the glass to your lips.

You watched him as his eyes scanned you.

"Do you wish to bed your Emperor?"

"I'm no whore."

"Never said you were."

"My desire goes beyond a bed I'm afraid."

"You intrigue me, what's your name?"

"Y/N."

"Beautiful name to a beautiful creature." he lifted his hand as if expecting you to kiss his ring. "You already know me then."

But you did not do such a thing. You only offered him a smile as you stood up and walked away from him.

---

The next time you met the Emperor was when his soldiers brought you in front of him.

"Finding you was a pain! You just walked away. Women would kill to get such an opportunity."

"I'm not like other women." you replied as he walked up and down with a frown on his face, clearly offended by your behaviour last week. 

"I should have your head for that!"

"Killing me wouldn't satisfy you." all guards left as he turned and put his hand on your neck, squeezing, you didn't even flinch.

"Do you not fear death?"

"A God doesn't fear such things." he chuckled.

"So, you are a Goddess now? How pathetic." just as he said that a loud thunder rang through, shaking the city of Rome.

Geta watched as your eyes darkened and suddenly let go of you, backing away from you as you let out a long breath.

"Emperor Geta, I have a proposition for you. You have always interested me as a man. Take me as your wife and you will be the first emperor to have a Goddess as his. But I wish to keep you all for myself as well. I'm quite selfish."

Geta watched you in disbelief.

"What kind of a God are you?"

"Chaos." your answer was short and simple. "Do you not desire me?"

"I do." his reply was immediate, it surprised even him. "I just cannot believe it."

Then suddenly a smile broke on his face, his mind filled with wicked ideas. They excited you, you reached out and touched his cheek with your fingers.

"You have ideas. Tell me." he looked into your eyes.

"Oh, how perfect you are. Not like other women, they are dull and all they want is gold. But you! You my Darling. You are a Goddess."

You smiled at his words.

You knew he was praising you for a reason. He was manipulative.

But he was also handsome.

You liked him.

"The things we will achieve." he smiled at you.

"Rome is on the brink of collapse, the people hate the Emperors, but I can change that. People know fear. People listen to it. And while they are afraid of you now, with me, they will be terrified." you spoke up.

"I will take you as my wife! The Roman Emperor with a Goddess as his wife! I like that." his pride was talking, you knew it. But you also knew that he would be perfect. 

Your first husband was a boring politician who you had to kill he got on your nerves too much. 

But Geta was different.

---

Caracalla walked with a knife in his hands.

You knew his intentions, you knew how he was manipulated by Macrinus. 

If you were honest, you might have grown too fond of Geta. But his death you didn't want.

You stood in front of Caracalla and looked at the knife in his hand. 

"You are being manipulated and you don't even notice. Do you truly think Macrinus is helpful for no reason? Do you truly not see what he wants?"

"Move woman!" but you didn't. 

"I cannot watch you kill the man I love."

"The man you love is a traitor!"

"Says the man holding a knife ready to kill his brother whom he grew up in the same womb with." you blinked at let out a sigh. "Caracalla, give me the knife."

"NO! I WILL KILL HIM AND THEN KILL YOU!" his yelling got Geta's attention as he opened the door behind you. Seeing his brother with a knife now pointed at you.

"What's going on here?"

"Macrinus sent him to kill you." you replied. 

"Brother, put the knife down."

"NO! I'm done with being your shadow." Caracalla moved to stab Geta but you stepped in the way, the blade cut into your stomach and both of them froze. 

You were bleeding as you looked up at Caracalla. 

"Get yourself together." and slapped him across the face. The sound of the slap echoed down the halls.

You grabbed the knife and pulled it out when Macrinus arrived.

"My Empress, are you okay?" he asked and you decided, you had enough.

Just as he intended for Geta, you cut Macrinus' head off.

"Brother, what is she?" asked Caracalla.

"A God." Geta replied. 

And that is exactly what you were, a God. With the head of the true traitor in your hand, you turned to both.

"I wish for a bath. My blood ruined my clothes. And you, better start using your brain!" you pointed at Caracalla before throwing Macrinus' head at him. 

He quickly nodded as you walked away, you could hear him apologising to Geta.

Geta of course felt offended as he stormed after you.

You were already in the bath, the water, red, from your blood.

"Will you be fine, Dear Wife?" he had a worried tone. It was strange to hear.

"Of course. I have survived worse. Men tried to poison me before. Making me eat and drink poison, but they are fools." you closed your eyes and relaxed in the warm water.

"Fools indeed." you heard the water move, indicating Geta getting in. "They cannot kill My Goddess. No one can." you felt his hands on your sides and you opened your eyes.

He was so close to you only a breath between your bodies and lips.

"Thank you." he whispered to you and you moved your hand on his shoulder, pulling yourself up and making your lips connect in a sweet and lustful kiss.

With you by his side, he will live a long life, possibly longer than any mortal man. Possibly it wasn't fair or right.

But you loved him.

And a Goddess' love is the strongest power.

Gladiator II Collection

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ˇAO3ˇ

/YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE, TO STEAL OR TO REUPLOAD ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[deesseshesca]

PAC :How will your future lover explore your body ? (18+)

I found a little name for all of y'all ... Bébé d'Amour. Vous etes maintenant mes bébé d'amour (Y'all are now my Bébé d'Amour).

Good morning pretty souls, I'm not a lovey dovey human but for y'all I am ready to do almost anything.

SALE 

Until October 31 all readings on my ko-fi is 30$, only

Choose the image that’s speak to you and allow yourself to soak ONLY what’s reasoning with YOUR SITUATION.

Rules and Disclaimer 

I am the type of tarot reader to say as it is. Nothing is sugar coated but everything is sent with good intention. If you are not ready to face some truth, you should vagabond somewhere else.

MINOR DON'T INTERACT WITH THIS POST 

MINOR DON’T READ THIS POST 

PILE 1 

Page pentacles, 2 swords (reverse), magician (reverse), page wands (reverse)

Their touch is going to make u reminisce about all the time u let someone else touch your body in ways u settle for. Like u never really wanted them to touch but you were to fucking lonely to refuse the act knowing damm well they were using u. Also they were not treating you correctly. They touch is going to make all the monster go away. All the time you were touch with little cares all forgiven to make place with memories of they’re caring touch. Some of y’all have self harm scars, suicide attempt scaring, they will caress it with so much love and thank u everytime for the fact that u stay even thought it was hard. They are grateful upon every stars that u’re self sabotaging behavior never got the best of u otherwise they would have never met u. Some of u don’t think you have a pretty pussy. Maybe u feel like u’re lips of too big or that they are not the same color as the rest of your cooch. Hey, they will to touch your pussy. Always munching with happiness. Others u are not circumcised, don’t matter they bumping their month on your dick with happiness in their eyes. Some of y’all have religious trauma, like your ex-environment made you think that sex is forbidden. Y’all don’t even like touching yourself. Even though u left a long time ago, u can’t seem to shake those fears off. They are going to take their time with u and respect which one  of your boundaries. At the end, you might still not like getting head but u are not going to feel as uncomfortable with the concept of it after their healing touch. Some of y’all have some vaginismus, I see them learning about it. So they can help u heal and respect the boundaries set by your body. I see them introducing the first toys before even going in themself. Until they are not sure u are ok, there’s no jumping the big boy. If you have endometriosis/PCOS, they will stop penetration sex and alter to fingering to make sure not to disturb the peace of the uterus before the big week. For all my pillow prince/princess today is your big day, they love leading. They don’t care if you spend the whole relationship on a pink/blue pillow. They love it for you. Their touch will still be playful. They will love to tickle u. Also they will love placing a hand on your stomach, even slepping on it. Especially my masculine energy, your pump stomach is literally their safe place. They will love giving you a good handjob while staring into your eyes (y’all probably have deep brown eyes) and caressing your stomach. 

💌 : Honestly Pile one, they are not going to be able to let go of you. Might be clingy, also they love language is physical touch. Will love updating you throughout the day. If you want to know more about that future love, you can always purchase my SOUL TRIBE membership unlocking all the extra content and extended PAC reading + the audio one.

PILE 2 

4 wands (reverse), King cups (reverse), Hanged man, 6 swords 

They love to have their hands on your private parts on all times, not in a creepy way. They would be driving and suddenly here u go, being a finger fucked passager princess. If you are an owner of a dick, u better drive with both hands on the wheel because at any moment, they may start giving u a blowjob . If you have boobs, they will have they hand on them all the time. Not even in a sexual way but because it becomes their habit. Y’all might not give a fuck at some point, until somebody stare at u in public. U end up apologizing while glaring at u’re partner making sure to get they hands the fuck out your top. They are very sensitive to your reaction. Let’s say they wanna give u a hug and u move slightly away … here comes the overthinking. If they try a new move on u in bed but u don’t moan as good as usual. They don’t reproduce it. If u give an excellent reactions, they will put that move on rotation. Also if you have painful period cramps, they will message you stomach. If you have to go regularly to the doc, they will always try their best to be there and hold your hand. Touch = love regarding your future lover. They will caress your face when u speak. Tie your hair when your hand is busy. To my burn out babe that are trying their best or my type B babe who is always so damn clumsy, they will always be behind u giving u a hand. Even when u give them head, they still worry about your well being. I’m hearing : ‘’ Baby I don’t care, if u care or not. I love when (moan) u are giving (whimper) head and are comfortable’’ before attempting to tie your hair. After a week of bad depressive episodes they will run you a bath. When they sense that u are starting to distance yourself, they will always have an hand on your waist, on your leg, shoulder any fucking where. Just to keep u from leaving with your bad thoughts. All this stand for my man in the audience, your next babe don’t play about you. Their touch heal making u realize how much you DO matter. 

💌: If you want to know more about that future love, you can always purchase my SOUL TRIBE membership unlocking all the extra content and extended PAC reading + the audio one.

PILE 3 

King wands (reverse), page wands (reverse), page cups, ace pentacles 

Straight from the beginning I’m getting a bad girl/boy from your person. They push everyone away but you. Actually they only see you. They don’t see any other women/men. They don’t even care about their own parents, the way they care about you. Your future person may have experienced deep trauma from age 8 - 10 years old, every night. Since is not the reading for and I did not ask for permission, I will not dive deeper into their lore. They touch = fire, when they lay their fingerprints on u, it is like your whole body is in heat. They enjoy mixing pain and pleasure. A fan of breathing plays because they get to squeeze your neck safely to give you pleasure. Loves squeezing you in general. If you have boobs, will love to squeeze them until it hurts. If you are a man, love to pinch your nipple until they see a little bit of blood even. They will also enjoy putting pressure on your balls while giving you a handjob. They are very experience lover. Probably have 15+ body. They love to play game with y’all. I’m hearing: ‘’ Let’s see how many times I can make u cum in a minute, princess…’’. If you are a man, they will love to eat your ass. If they lose you, they lose everything. They will probably haunt until they find you back again. They will NEVER raise their hand on u and  NEVER yell at you.  I see a vision of a text conversation. 

U : jhabwdbcaw

Them : hey babe, is everything ok …

U: auijdxja party hbduiAHBNDIL

Them: Can u give the phone (one of your friend).

U: But I wannnnnna takcfjawo to u 

Them: I know but I wanna see you. Can you please give the phone ? 

U: abxda yes hnqcfu

Them: Give the phone, love. 

Their touch is very gentle but very practical. Gently take your makeup off when u come back drunk. Gently draw into your tattoo if you are a man. Will casually lift up bridal style when they see dozing off while studying. If you are a guy, will softly wake you up and guide u to the bedroom. 

💌: If you want to know more about that future love, you can always purchase my SOUL TRIBE membership unlocking all the extra content and extended PAC reading + the audio one.

PILE 4

Knight wands (reverse), Lovers (reverse), Emperor (reverse), Strength (reverse)

Touch = understanding, will give u a tap on the shoulder to encourage you. Will caress your arm while y’all are arguing. There’s a use of: ‘’ Good girl/boy’’ in y’all relationships. When they see you grabbing the sheet, while they are down to town, that’s when they know you are on cloud 9. The only time they will stop munching even if you have already orgasm. They will love to caress your inner thighs. Pass a sneaky hand on your tits. Loves making you want more, like I see y’all making out and they are barely touching your tits while you are caressing their body. Have a very brat energy. Love to get on your last nerve because they know you will punish them. That’s what gets them going.  Has a high sex drive can go round and round in the same day but it will always start with some kind of teasing.

💌 : Y'all are going to have an amazing communication. I sense that both of y'all are yappers. Y'all are messy, you love to call each other at the end of the day and share the tea on what's going on. They will never let you go to sleep angry. I see a vision of you mad even at them but y'all still cuddling. You guy are in silence, they know they mess up but they refuse to leave on your own. Better they let you gather your thoughts with them. They may have a trauma about somebody that die on them in a middle on text con versation. That's why they can't let u go when u are mad. Don't get them wrong, they won't force u to hug them or talk. If you can't handle looking at them, they will tare at the wall, while u are in the bed thinking. If you want to know more about that future love, you can always purchase my SOUL TRIBE membership unlocking all the extra content and extended PAC reading + the audio one.

[yanderenightmare]

TW: noncon, yandere, omegaverse, subjugation, some type of sexism, angsty, also a little fluffy?

fem reader

Discussions about superiority and inferiority between Alphas, Betas, and Omegas have become more popular lately. It’s always been many people’s opinion that the weak should cater to those stronger than them—but a debate with that as its topic is unsavory. Unfortunately, they’ve found new ways to phrase it. 

A resonating “Unmated Omegas are a danger to themselves!” garners much more sympathy…

And with the rise of people talking about it in the media, it was only natural to move the conversation into school as well.

You keep your head bowed in class as the chill runs down your spine. You feel the glare of thirty fellow students—the points of their teeth, too, and how they snicker under their breath. It’s always been rather scary being an omega, but you can’t say you’ve ever felt quite so alone.  

The teacher’s an alpha, so why should he care how what he says impacts you? He’s preaching to the choir, and you’ve never had the right to sing. The three other Omegas in your class have all chosen to stay home. They probably have the right idea—wait it out until it all blows over.

But you don’t know when that might be… You don’t know if that will be.

Society is on the precipice of critical change—new politics, new laws, new systems, new rights that separate you from them. You wallow in fear of the outcome, lying awake at night and scrolling through the news under the safety of your duvet. The statements seem endless. You wonder, why are all politicians Alphas?

You don’t want any of the things they’re suggesting—mating homes to help you find the perfect Alpha to bond with, systematic pairings done from birth, auctions. Is no one going to suggest they put shock collars on all Alphas and Betas to keep them in check? They’re the ones who need to—

“Your scent is distracting the whole class—don’t you feel ashamed?” 

It’s too easy for him to have you bent over the desk, your wrist on your back in his big fist as he wraps his tie around them. He and his goons stand around, all smiles—watching—enjoying it. It’s as if they’ve planned the whole thing, the way two of them peel away from the crowd to grab each their pick of your feet. Parting them, they use your own shoelaces to tie them to the desk legs.

The ringleader laughs. There’s an awful smell coming off him in waves—it makes you quiver. He flips your skirt up and whistles at the sight, showing everyone your ass and cotton undies. The bulge he presses against you is enough to make your tears spill despite how hard you’d fought to keep them at bay, knowing it only arouses them further.

“Aww, don’t cry, little bitch. You should be happy,” he coos, leaning over your trapped form to whisper right at your ear. “Don’t you know? You’ll never feel happier than you will bouncing on my big Alpha dick. It’s all your little Omega cunt dreams about, isn’t it?” He snickers, fiddling with his belt buckle—you flinch at every sharp clink as he jostles the metal. “Well, salvation is here—”

“Keep it to yourself.” Another voice breaks through the sounds of hollers and cheers.

Your eyes open to see him. You despise how your heart jumps in relief.

“Oi, you—” the guy at your back challenges, stepping away from you and toward the interruption.

“Yeah, me,” he states blankly, jaded. He eyes the rest of the guys with disinterest—five betas, zero threat—before telling them, “All of you. Scram.”

They all take a step to walk out as if his voice alone had compelled them, but then the previous guy interjects, making them stop in their tracks again. “Tch—you know what they’re saying. All unmated Omegas are free game, and I won this one. So back off.”

It was like watching a match of tug-of-war.

“Heh,” the intruder laughs. “That rule only counts for Alphas.”

You spot your aggressor's fists curl—there’s a growl rumbling in the back of his throat. “I am an Alpha, asshole.”

“Really?” he feigns, sizing him up with a cocky tilt of his head. “Couldn’t tell.” He doesn’t seem fazed in light of the aggression—actually, it seems to amuse him if anything. “To me, you smell no different from all these other Beta losers.” 

He takes a casual step forward, hands in his pockets and a smile on his face—baring canines with grace.

“But if you wanna prove it, I’m ready when you are.”

It’s quiet after the declaration. The betas are unsure who’s side to pick, none of them eager to get caught in the middle. It becomes a competition purely between the two Alphas.

Without backup, your aggressor backs down and leaves.

“Thought so,” your savior jeers, showing the crowd out, closing and locking the door behind them.

It’s quiet after they’ve left.

You hide your face. Listening to his footsteps approach—he sighs when taking the place of the former guy. He doesn’t touch you, though.

“Y’know…” he starts. “That guy might be trash, but he isn’t wrong…” He picks up your skirt and drapes it back in place. “None of this would ever happen if you weren’t unmated.”

You speak through grit teeth. “Untie me.”

He chuckles familiarly at that, clicking his tongue at you. “What? Aren’t you gonna say please?” But he does what you say anyway. Squatting down, he starts with your ankles.

The scent of your fear still lingers in the air despite your tough act. You’ve always been so steadfast, ever since you were kids, even when it does you no good. He frees your feet—one, then the other, slowly—he even reties your laces into pretty bows before he’s done. 

He remembers it being so obvious. The sun rose in the morning and the moon at night, and you were supposed to be an Alpha while he a Beta at best. You promised you’d be by his side to keep him safe forever, and he wanted nothing more.

But then puberty hit, and nothing was as you’d imagined.

He stands and unknots the tie keeping your wrists restrained.

You immediately push him off—already storming away.

“Do I get no thank you, no nothing? Always so stubborn—” He grabs your arm.

You spin around, an unnatural snarl on your face. “Let go!”

You’d have been a terrifying Alpha. But as fate has it, you’re not. And you shouldn’t act like it. It only lands you in trouble.

But he doesn’t say that. 

“You been watchin’ the news?” he says instead, ignoring your cry and keeping a firm grip on your arm. “Seems like auctions are winning the voters. You know what that means?”

He feels you flinch, followed by a quiver. He can tell. No matter how good you are at hiding it. He can see—the way you’re fraying at the edges, barely holding it together. Always acting so strong. He can’t tell whether you enjoy torturing yourself or if you’re just that good at convincing yourself you’re fine.

“Pretty soon, new authorities are gonna come storming in here, roundin’ up every sorry unmated Omega they find, and put ‘em all on a farm where pompous Alphas can have their pick of the litter.”

He can never tell what you’re thinking, but he knows he doesn’t need to tell you any of this. You’re not stupid, you never have been. He knows you already know. But…

“You should decide now while it’s still your choice.” 

You must be terrified. He understands. But truly… it’s obvious what you have to do, isn’t it?

“It’s not like you have many options.”

It’s obvious. It always has been.

You don’t meet his eyes. You haven’t for a long while. Actually, you haven't since both of you got your test results. He understands this wasn’t what you had in mind, but you can’t afford to mope about it forever—

“How am I supposed to choose any Alpha when you’re all such assholes…”

Your mutter stunts him. It wasn’t what he expected. Or, the words were more or less exactly something he’d expect from you, but that voice—quiet and soft, dangling on the brink of sweet. If you’d said anything else, he’d have taken it as a confession.

“Can't argue with that,” he ends up chuckling again.

You hate how easy this is for him. He would cry at every turn when you were kids. It’s unfair. 

“But you can’t keep doing this, either,” he states. His voice is soft, paired with that ugly authority they all have when talking to you—talking down to you. “Just look where it gets you—scared and exhausted because of it. At least have the brains to stay home.” He says it as if it’s a joke, but you both know it isn’t. His chuckles are light—far from fullhearted.

He bends down, trying to find your eyes. He still holds onto your arm, knowing you’d sooner stomp away than listen to him. His other hand brushes your cheek gently, tucking your hair behind your ear.

“You hear the call from the rafters—it’s not about what you want anymore. It’s about what you need.”

That’s what they say, isn’t it? What you need. You want to slap him. Scratch him with claws, bite his throat out—make him choke on his own words. Need? What you need is for them all to fuck off.

You mean to say it with the same sentiment, but something hard and rough in your throat makes all your words come out wobbly. “Mate an Alpha to stay safe from other Alphas. What a joke.”

You bow your head further. The tears return. They burn as they trail down the sore streaks from before.

He’s never seen you like this. He won’t lie, it makes his pants tight—feeling the urge to suck your cheeks, hold you close and comfort you. But knowing you right, you’d probably never let him. Your face would probably scrunch up in disgust, punch his gut, knee his groin, then turn on your heel and leave him on the floor wheezing.

You really would have made the most terrifying Alpha. 

“The world isn’t fair,” he agrees. “But you get nowhere cryin’ about it—do it my way, and you’ll never—”

“Have any freedom,” you cut him off with a sniffle. 

It’s about the most adorable thing he’s seen in his life.

He gets why you don’t like Alphas—they’re all gross. He makes himself sick sometimes. He can’t believe he’s getting off on watching you have a mental breakdown. There’s something seriously wrong with his side of the species. His throat’s tight, mouth watery with the urge to reap your vulnerability. 

Suppressing it only makes his inner beast furious. Some of that aggression comes out in his next words.

“I’m sorry, but the world doesn’t give a shit about your freedom.” 

The grip around your arm tightens, and you look up in shock—watching his narrowed eyes through your watery ones. 

“What you need is safety—now more than ever. Or do you like being preyed on by every Alpha around the corner?” 

Your bottom lip trembles at the reality of it—a little while ago, you were almost— 

“One of these days, I'm not gonna be here in time, and you’ll be a slave to some fucking—” 

He huffs and hangs his head. His hand loosens up—it trembles where he holds you in place.

“In all honesty, I think I’m more scared than you,” he whispers under his breath. “I think I might kill—”

He stops himself again. You don’t know if it’s in an effort not to frighten you or himself.

“Speak about needs…” he begins anew, now softer. “I need to know you’re safe. I need to—” He looks up. His eyes are back to being round. “I need you more than you need me, probably.”

There’s a desperation on his face. It almost looks like he’s on the verge of tears himself.

“So… please?” he begs. “Will you keep me safe like you promised and stay by my side?”

Your tears dry and prickle. Looking into his eyes now, you see the same boy you knew back in your childhood—that one who’d chase you all over even when you’d call him a sniveling crybaby. You realize, Alpha or not, he hadn’t changed all that much at all. 

“It’s not like you need my permission,” you end up saying.

You’ve always been so hard-headed. He has to smile. “No, but I want it.”

You nibble your lip. You can’t believe you’re at the mercy of this big dumb hunk of… you don’t have the words to describe him. He wasn’t exactly a crybaby anymore. 

“Okay. You win.” 

His eyes widen as you bear your neck with a stretch. Head high and shoulders slack. 

You swallow thickly. “Get it over with.”

He shudders at the sight. He didn’t know what he’d been expecting, but now it almost seemed too soon. 

“We should be supervised by a professional—you know how wrong things can go—”

“Hurry up before I change my mind.” Your eyes remain shut, and your lips pursed.

His tongue grows thick in his mouth at your bark. A sudden stroke of performance anxiety makes his palms sweaty, hands heavy and shaking. But then the sight of your soft neck has his mood shift, becoming drowsy.

He has no control over the growl that begins rumbling from his gut.

But he doesn’t apologize for it either.

He bends forward—breaths on your chest before he licks your throat. You can’t help but whimper at the warmth. He watches you through hooded eyes—your usually angry face is now all cute, riddled with anxiety you try hiding paired with the grim anticipation of pain.

“Shh,” he soothes, kissing the spot softly. He sways you against him, then lifts you up on the desk for you to sit. Grazing your neck with teeth when feeling your hands tangle two fistfuls of his shirt. He expects you to push him away, but you don’t—you tug him closer instead as if silently telling him to hurry up.

But he doesn’t want to rush, doesn’t want to lose himself—that’s how accidents happen. So he sticks to sucking gently, only tiny nibbles that leave your skin hot and lightly bruised in their wake.

You give a moan once he finds the spot, and he growls in restraint upon the pretty sound—feeling you relax despite being threatened with his teeth right at your artery. He almost humps your leg in return, feeling the boil of blood pump him hot and heavy in his pants—breaths turning equally hot and heavy, each one laced with rust.

Drool coated your neck in a cool sheen, soothing the marks made beneath it, while his lips and fangs aroused pleasure in the spot that now ached for the sting of his bite.

“Please,” slipped from your mouth while tugging him closer. 

His eyes, completely drunk on the pretty prayer, had only a slim rim of color left surrounding the hungering bottomless pits, blown full and black with opium.

No one could come and take you away from him now. Not with his print so pretty on your neck. You were his—just as you were always supposed to be.

♡ BNHA – Deku, Kirishima, Natsuo, Amajiki, Mirio ♡ JJK – Yuji, Yuuta ♡ HQ – Kuro, Miya twins ♡ DS – Tanjiro, Zenitsu

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[cutehoons02]

You are my most beautiful destiny

*pairing: frat Gryffindor boy Jake x gryffondor Girl

*trope: brother's best friend

*synopsis: Being Heeseung’s sister at Hogwarts has always meant only one thing: to be untouchable. No one dares to approach, no one dares to try… No one but Jake Sim, his best friend, also Gryffindor. After a summer in which everything seems changed - longer looks, more mischievous smiles - between you and Jake explodes a forbidden tension difficult to ignore. In the silence of the Common Room, between shared tasks and childish quarrels, there are stolen kisses, forbidden caresses and secret nights. Jake knows that breaking Heeseung’s trust is a mistake.You know you’re playing with fire but when the desire is so strong that it takes your breath away, how do you stop?

*tags: A lot of fun, they love to tease each other in every way,Hee's discovery of your secret in the final, both Jake and the protagonist are perverted, Jake is really down bad for her, green flag, secret, fake innocent girl, needy Jake, needy girl, lots of kisses, fingering, male masturbation, big dick, virgin reader, unprotected sex (don’t horny ppl) -room necessities- pet names (baby,plague) (jakey) +18

12.1k (✨)

(English is not my native language)

The summer had flown by like a poorly cast spell. You had spent months in Muggle London, far from the corridors of Hogwarts, trying to forget—or maybe drown— that foolish, impossible crush that had tightened your stomach every time Jake Sim walked past you. Jake: Your brother Heeseung’s best friend, the guy you should never have looked at in that way, and yet, that summer, the irreparable had happened. When he had come to visit Heeseung in London, on one of those lazy, sun-filled afternoons, something happened that you had wanted since you were a little girl: a kiss. It's not one of those accidental or stolen kisses. No. Jake had looked at you as if he were seeing you for the first time—not just “Hee’s little sister”—and pressed his lips to yours with a hunger you had always dreamed of and feared at the same time. It had been rough, sweet, desperate, and now… you were crossing the doors of the Great Hall at Hogwarts, your heart feeling like it was about to explode, your new uniform fitting snugly around your hips that summer had made more mature, and the unbearable weight of your secret pressing down on your shoulders. You felt different, and he was making you think it even more. His eyes found you immediately through the crowd, and when Jake saw you, he thought: Shit. She’s changed.

Your skirt was a little shorter, your legs were longer, and your hair fell on your shoulders like a damned walking temptation. Jake forced himself to breathe as he watched you walk through the Great Hall, your cheeks flushed from the fresh air of the first day, that clumsy confidence making you irresistible. You were no longer the little girl clinging to Heeseung’s arm, and you weren’t just his best friend’s sister anymore. You were the girl he had kissed that damned night in London, against the wall of your room, the taste of your skin still burning on his tongue. The girl who made him want to say to hell with every rule, every friendship, every shred of common sense. Jake looked at you like a predator too hungry to pretend to be harmless, cursing himself when his eyes slid down your body, unable to stop.

“Don’t think about how much you miss kissing her.”

“Don’t think about how much you miss feeling her tremble beneath your hands.” And then, when you locked eyes with him and smiled, he knew. He was screwed.

The Magical Astrophysics classroom exuded pure terror mixed with disgust. Just hearing about astral formulas, magical gravitational calculations, and planetary rotations made you want to throw yourself off the Astronomy Tower. You hated math, you hated physics, and you would have hated that class… if it weren't for him. Jake Sim. No longer just a Hogwarts student, no longer just your brother's best friend. Jake was now the assistant to the professor of Astrophysics, standing at the desk in his gray and red sweater that clung to his broad chest, jeans that followed the lines of his muscular thighs, and those messy hair that seemed like they'd been styled by a storm. He was twenty-two and still had that princely face with a hint of… dangerously perverted boy vibes. The Flynn Rider of Hogwarts, as you and your best friend had nicknamed him—only with less gallantry and more nimble hands. You found yourself in the second row, your legs elegantly crossed, the skirt—okay, maybe a bit too short—following the latest fashion, your chin resting on your hands as you watched him. Every movement he made, like erasing the blackboard, or leaning forward, stretching the fabric of his jeans over his quads. Damn. T/L, sitting next to you—your best friend and your big brother's girlfriend—elbowed you firmly in the side. 'Stop looking at him like you're reading the list of things you want him to do to you,' she whispered, amused. You pouted at her, squeezing her arm. "If I weren't Hee's sister… he'd already be mine," you muttered under your breath. She chuckled and made a shushing gesture over her lips. 'You're forgetting to close your mouth, darling. Keep this up, and you'll drool on the desk.' With a grimace, you gave her a light slap on the shoulder, and you both burst into laughter, trying to muffle the sound with your palms. Until you heard the sharp clapping of the professor’s hands, and the room fell into silence. --Alright, alright!-- the professor boomed, turning his gaze on Jake with evident approval. --This subject is crucial—it makes up thirty-five percent of your final diploma grade! And I want you all to know how possible it is to excel: Jake Sim, how did you do on the final test- Jake, with his usual slightly cocky grin, answered without hesitation: "A hundred out of a hundred, professor." The room murmured. Some applauded. You? You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from clapping too loudly or… jumping on him. "For this, guys, he'll be my official assistant and your role model throughout the academic year," the professor concluded proudly.

T/L leaned toward you, whispering in your ear: 'Don't tell me you chose Magical Astrophysics just because he was in it…' You shrugged innocently. She looked at you, exasperated. 'You're the worst. Heeseung would skin you alive if he found out even about a flirt, you know that? This isn't going to end well…' You looked at her with a smile that said everything and nothing, and meanwhile, while the professor explained, your eyes darted back to Jake. Jake, who for a moment had stopped listening to the professor. Jake, who was looking at you with that mix of amusement and… damn hunger.

It had been just a week since the start of classes, and already you felt like you were drowning under a mountain of homework. The Magical Astrophysics professor seemed to enjoy torturing you, assigning interactive models of planets and magical constellations to be completed within a few days. There you were, curled up in a dimly lit corner of the library, near the Astral Tower, with a pout on your face. Even with the perfect formulas and a little magic, you still couldn't locate a damn constellation on your enchanted 3D notebook. It was as if the stars were having fun mocking you. You sighed, casting a glance at the empty table beside you. You were supposed to be working with T/L, your best friend from Ravenclaw, but she had decided to go on a romantic date with your brother. "Romantic," you thought sarcastically, "they’re probably fucking like rabbits!" Surely, they were doing anything but having candlelit dinners in the alleys of Hogsmeade... Your thighs instinctively pressed together, a familiar heat rising from your core. You, too, would have liked to... experience those things. To feel what it meant to have someone so close. So deep inside. It was in that exact moment that a voice you knew all too well—one you had dreamed of, imagined, and desired in your most forbidden thoughts—broke the heavy air of the library: "Are they fucking like rabbits?"

You spun around quickly, your heart threatening to explode out of your chest. In front of you, dressed in black jeans and a soft sweater that caressed his sculpted chest, stood Jake Sim. The perfect incarnation of a prince charming... disguised as a damn temptation, and you jumped up from your chair, shouting:

"You can't use magic to listen to other people's thoughts!" you snapped, maybe a little too loudly. A few students shot you glares, and you blushed down to the roots of your hair, while Jake chuckled softly, with that raspy laugh that seemed like a spell meant to make your knees tremble. He came closer, lowering himself to your level and with a calloused finger, he lightly brushed your lips, silencing you gently.

"Shh... Don't shout, sweetheart. We’re in a library," he whispered, his voice so low and warm it made your skin tingle. You immediately lowered your gaze, feeling suddenly small under his presence. Jake sat down across from you without asking, taking your 3D notebook and pretending to study it with false concentration. Then, with a crooked smile, he looked up and asked

"So… who’s fucking like a rabbit, huh?" You shook your head furiously, your eyes wide and innocent. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. Jake chuckled, resting his elbow on the table and his cheek on his hand, looking at you like he was staring at something incredibly funny and incredibly desirable at the same time. "I never thought Heeseung’s sweet little sister knew… such expressions." You clenched your fists on the table, lifting your gaze defiantly. That golden retriever laugh was dangerous. It made you want to jump on him. "I’m not as innocent as you think, Jake." For a moment, his smile faltered just slightly—a second, but enough to make something dark flicker in his eyes; a flash of raw, pure desire. Jake leaned in a little closer to you, his voice lowering to an almost sinful whisper: "Oh, really?"

"Yes," you answered sharply, without hesitation. Jake chuckled, that low, raspy laugh of his that made every nerve in your body vibrate, and pressed on, tilting his head to the side: "So, who’s fucking like rabbits in heat?" You blushed furiously, lowering your gaze to the notebook. With a barely audible voice, you mumbled: "T/L and Heeseung…" When you looked up, you noticed Jake’s eyebrows raise in a surprised and mischievous expression at the same time. He stretched slowly, carelessly, and his sweater lifted just enough to give you a forbidden view: sculpted abs, golden skin, the perfect V-line disappearing into his dark jeans… and those fine hairs that seemed to point the way to a place you’d only dared to imagine. You swallowed hard. Jake noticed immediately. With a cheeky grin, he threw at you: "Try not to drool too much, little one." You rolled your eyes, huffing, though inside, your heart was pounding like a drum. You went back to writing formulas, desperately trying to focus while he, with patient movements that were always a little too close to your personal space, corrected you, drawing light lines with his finger on the star maps. When you told him, with a shy smile, that he’d be an excellent professor, Jake gave you a look that made you want to melt into your chair. "You’re better than you think, sweetheart," he praised, and your stomach twisted. The sun slowly dipped behind the spires of Hogwarts, and small stars began to sparkle in the high windows of the library. Jake pointed to one of the constellations in the real sky and compared it to the one you had written, his proud smile when you finally managed to spot it. "Thanks… really," you murmured. "Always for you," he replied, in a voice so full of meaning it sent shivers down your spine.

As you walked back to the Common Room, Jake walked ahead of you, hands stuffed in his jeans pockets. He was relaxed, but now and then, he threw furtive glances over his shoulder. Suddenly, he stopped abruptly. Lost in your thoughts about how unfair it was that he was so perfect, you bumped into him, planting your forehead against his broad, muscular shoulder. You lifted your face, ready to complain… but found yourself trapped by his eyes, so close to yours that a single breath would have brought you together. Jake smiled softly. Then, without saying a word, he grabbed your hand and quickly looked around: the corridor was empty. With a swift spell, whispered against your skin, he made the Invisibility Cloak appear: a soft glow enveloped you, hiding you from prying eyes. With a quick spell, whispered against your skin, the Invisibility Cloak appeared: a soft glow enveloped you both, hiding you from prying eyes. He gently pushed you against the wall, your body pressed against the cold stone, his warmth immediately surrounding you. He leaned in, his face just a breath away from yours, and asked, his voice rough with an almost animalistic tension: "What did you mean… that you're not so innocent anymore, huh?" Your heart pounded in your chest, but you lifted your chin proudly. "I’m twenty, Jake. I’m not a child anymore. I know what happens between couples…" Jake's eyes darkened. He inhaled deeply while you, with a voice that barely trembled, continued: "I know about the different sexual positions. The verbal… erotic games… that can be done with magic. The foreplay… with hands… and magical toys." For a long, endless second, Jake remained still, staring at you as though you were saying the most shocking — and at the same time, most exciting — thing he’d ever heard. Then, he slowly ran a hand through his hair, messing it up even more, a gesture that revealed how hard he was fighting to maintain control. He warned you, his voice low and raspy: "If Heeseung knew even half of what you just said… he’d lock you away in a magical cloistered church. And throw away the key." You burst into laughter, the sound clear and genuine, warming even the air around you. "I guess you think T/L and I never talk about what happens… between her and Hee during sex? We're girls, it’s normal we confide these things…" You raised an eyebrow, innocent only in appearance.

Jake groaned softly, exasperated yet amused at the same time, and leaned in closer, pressing his face against your neck. He inhaled deeply, savoring your scent, before whispering against your warm skin: "You’re becoming a little troublemaker…" Then, with a sweetness almost cruel, he slowly degraded you: "So good at playing with fire… and still don’t know how badly you could burn yourself, little one." His lips barely brushed the sensitive spot on your neck, sending a wave of heat through you, making your knees tremble slightly. You stayed there, frozen against the cold wall, his face so close to yours that you could count every dark lash framing his deep eyes. With a barely audible voice, you whispered to him: "Have you ever thought… about what happened in London this summer?" Jake tensed up slightly. For what felt like an eternity, he said nothing — just his warm breath against your skin, and then he exploded into one of those low, deep laughs that made your soul vibrate. He moved just enough to look you in the eyes and asked, with a mischievous little smile: "And you, princess… have you thought about me?" You blinked, surprised, and responded sharply, "You don't answer a question… with another question." Jake laughed again, this time with a proud air, and tilted his head with that typical Gryffindor swagger: "Only a true Gryffindor would have the guts to throw that back at me. You're really stubborn, huh, little one?" He ran a hand through his hair in that nervous, fascinating gesture you had known since you were a child — a tic he'd always had, whenever he was agitated or about to say something important. His eyes, now dark as night, fixed on yours as he lowered his voice to make you tremble: "I thought about you every day, pest. Every single, damn day." Your breath caught. Jake moved even closer, his hips nearly pressing against yours against the wall, his hand gently brushing your cheek. "I would have kissed you nonstop. I would have wanted you in my room… or in yours… studying, watching those stupid Muggle movies… and then touching you, damn it, touching you without stopping. 24 hours a day. Because I…" He paused, squinting as if holding back the urgency, "…I need physical contact like I need air." His fingers lightly traced the outline of your jaw, his voice getting dirtier, rougher. "I would have wanted to make you feel good with my tongue… worship every inch of your body… and fuck you on any free surface at Hogwarts."

You instinctively clenched your thighs, the heat between them becoming almost unbearable. Jake immediately noticed the movement, and his eyes flashed with desire. He smiled in a sweet, dirty way, degrading you with a low tone, like a whispered promise:

"Look at how you're squeezing your legs for me, little one... You don't know how much it drives me crazy." His calloused fingers brushed your cheek again, tracing small, slow, almost hypnotic circles. He asked, his voice trembling,

"And you? Have you thought about me, little temptress?" You pouted slightly, biting your lower lip before murmuring,

"Yes... I've thought about you every night. But..." You bit your lip even harder. "I was scared... Scared of what Heeseung would think."

Jake growled softly, his jaw tightening.

"I knew we'd get ourselves into serious trouble," he said, his voice filled with frustration and restrained desire. You smiled, tilting your head slightly and responding in a bold whisper,

"If you're my trouble... then you'll be my favorite trouble." Jake froze for half a second. Then, with an explosion of emotion too strong to contain, he praised you in a hoarse voice: "Shit... you're perfect." And without giving you even a moment to breathe, he smashed his lips against yours.

The kiss wasn’t sweet; it was urgent, desperate. His hands grabbed your hips, pulling you against him as if he wanted to melt into you. Your back hit the wall, but you didn’t even notice: all you felt was Jake’s mouth claiming yours, his tongue searching for yours with a wild hunger, his fingers caressing you everywhere they could reach. Jake’s hands tightened firmly around your hips as your lips continued to search for each other with increasing desperation. His body was warm against yours, his breath growing more ragged. In a surge of boldness, you sank your fingers into his soft hair and tugged lightly. Jake moaned against your mouth — a low, visceral sound — and without meaning to, he thrust his pelvis forward, rubbing his hard erection against your center, already throbbing desperately under the thin fabric of your skirt. A moan escaped your lips. You stayed still, panting, and with lips barely parted, whispered to him: “Merlin… you’re so hard…” Jake chuckled against your skin, the sound rough and dirty: “Your fault, pest.” His voice was hoarse, laced with desire. “If you weren’t so fucking sexy every time you sit in class with that damn mini skirt of yours…” His big hands slid slowly, boldly, under the fabric of your skirt, creeping up your trembling thighs. He moved closer to your ear, nibbling on your lobe before whispering to you: “…and then you complain when I look at you like I want to eat you alive.” His fingers slid higher, grazing the inside of your thigh with slow, deliberate movements meant to drive you crazy. His lips descended on your neck, kissing and teasing your skin until he found a sensitive spot. When he started sucking on it softly, almost marking you, you confessed in a breathy voice: “It was my intention… to have you looking at me.” Jake stopped for a second, his fiery eyes locked on yours. He degraded you gently, his tone hard and provocative: “Damn pest… you know exactly what you’re doing, don’t you?” He bit your neck lightly, and you moaned his name, unable to hold back: “J-Jake…” His breath hit you, hot against your skin. “Shit… you’re driving me crazy, little one.” His hands were now under your skirt, his fingers dangerously close to your wet center. The thin fabric of your underwear was the only barrier between you and him, and the way he caressed you made you tremble all over.

Then — footsteps. The sound of footsteps in the hallway. Instinctively, you tried to pull away, but Jake pressed you harder against the wall, one broad hand covering your mouth while the other held you still against his hard body. “Shhh, love… not a sound,” he whispered against your skin. He continued kissing your neck, sucking your skin, while your body slowly twisted against him. Every moan you tried to let out was muffled by his palm, making the situation even more forbidden, even more exciting. When the footsteps faded and the silence returned, Jake slowly removed his hand from your mouth. Your lips were red, your breath broken. Jake looked at you and chuckled softly, satisfied with how he’d reduced you: “Merlin, you’re perfect. You’re made to be touched, adored… and spoiled by me.” He lowered himself to give you another dirty, sweet kiss on the lips, then reluctantly pulled away, his forehead resting against yours. “We should… go to dinner before someone notices we’re using the invisibility cloak in completely inappropriate ways!" He smiled mischievously, biting your lip lightly, then took your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours: “It’s not over, pest. Tonight, in the Room of Requirement… after dinner.” And you nodded.

At dinner at the long Gryffindor table, you were sitting next to Heeseung, and in front of you was Jake, who sometimes stared at you but at the same time did everything he could to avoid being caught by Heeseung, while they talked about Quidditch and their university courses. You were savoring the last bite of your pear and chocolate cake when Heeseung turned to you with his usual nosy older-brother smile. 'By the way, sis… a certain Jareth Moon — a first-year Ravenclaw on the Quidditch team — asked me for permission to ask you out.' Your fork froze mid-air. You turned to look at him, frowning. "Permission?! Hee, are we in the 1800s or something?" Heeseung laughed, shaking his head. Jake, across the table, had stiffened imperceptibly, his eyes fixed on his glass. 'Don’t get mad, it’s just out of respect. He’s the first guy who came to me instead of sneaking around. It impressed me, and… I said yes.' That was when Jake nearly choked on his pumpkin juice, coughing and banging a hand on the table. Between coughs, he muttered with a tight smile: "Well… for a Ravenclaw, he must be pretty desperate to ask for the brother's permission." The jab was dry, almost venomous.

Heeseung shot him a sharp look, but then shrugged, defending the guy: 'He’s just a polite guy, Jake. Not everyone’s a damn fool with their brains fried from Quidditch, you know?' You tried to ignore them, irritated. Chewing loudly, you snapped "I don’t like him anyway." Heeseung grimaced 'For once I give you the green light… and you refuse? Seriously?' You clenched your fists against the tablecloth, your face flushed with frustration. You suddenly stood up, moving your plate and startling Jake, who looked at you with those dark eyes, filled with something far more dangerous than simple disapproval. "It’s not him I want," you declared loudly, enough to silence the nearby boys. With your heart pounding in your chest, you quickly turned and walked across the Great Hall.

Before you left, you shot a quick glance at Jake — and he was watching you, intense, his fist clenched as if he wanted to crush something. Jake made a move to touch his hair — his nervous tic — but he stopped, aware that Heeseung would catch him immediately. So he took your plate, absentmindedly finishing the last piece of cake you’d left. Heeseung watched him with a half-smile, amused.

'So... who do you think really wants my sister?'

Jake shrugged, staring at his plate without answering right away. Then, with a cynical chuckle, he said

"I don’t even want to imagine it. With that stubbornness, being her boyfriend must be a fucking nightmare."

Heeseung laughed loudly, thinking Jake was joking. He didn’t catch the bittersweet shadow that passed through his friend’s eyes.

Jake threw one last glance at the door you had disappeared through and stood up calmly, shaking off his robes:

"I have to go. I’ve got assignments to grade... including your pest of a sister’s."

Heeseung laughed again, 'Don’t be too hard on her, come on. She’s good, even if she pretends not to be.'

Jake flashed a crooked smile, hiding the urgency burning beneath his skin. As soon as he stepped out of the Great Hall, he saw, from the corner of his eye, Heeseung reach his girlfriend at the Ravenclaw table. He sighed softly, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"Thank God," he muttered to himself. "At least for tonight... no one will bother us." The Room of Requirement was already calling to him from the basement. And deep down, he knew very well that he wouldn’t be able to resist much longer — neither you nor the desperate pull of your body, which longed for only him.

Jake entered the Room of Requirement and immediately saw you. You were sitting on a wide sofa, next to a large lit fireplace casting flickering shadows on the golden walls. In your hands, you held a magical phone, scrolling through Muggle videos — probably romantic comedies, your guilty pleasure. As soon as you felt his electric energy vibrating in the air, you looked up. His eyes caught you immediately, dark and full of restrained desire. Jake sat next to you, spreading his legs in that cheeky, relaxed, and damn sexy way of his. He watched you for a moment, before chuckling with his low, hoarse voice. "Should I ask your big brother for permission too to have a date with you, princess?" You rolled your eyes, pretending to be annoyed, though your heart was pounding in your chest: "I hate it when he does that, Jake… I’m not a kid anymore." Jake immediately warned you in a low, authoritative tone, while his hand gently stroked your thigh. "You should never say — or even think — such awful things about your brother. He cares about you, even if he treats you like a little girl." You lowered your gaze, nibbling on your lip, and nodded softly. Jake motioned with his hand: "Come here." You timidly approached his legs, but it wasn’t enough. Jake grabbed you by the hips firmly and placed you straddling him, making you blush to your ears. One of his hands slid under your skirt, brushing the bare skin of your thighs with slow and confident fingers, while the other went under your warm sweater. He inhaled your scent — a sweet mix of chocolate and caramel — and closed his eyes for a moment, almost enchanted. You pressed yourself against him, clinging to his shoulders. Jake lowered his head and started kissing your neck, running his tongue over it, gently nibbling on your skin. Between kisses, he whispered: "That Ravenclaw… do you know him?" You shook your head slightly, your voice trembling: "No… never seen him before." Jake smiled against your skin, satisfied, and replied: "Good." You took his chin between your fingers, forcing him to look into your eyes. "Are you jealous, Jake?"

He stared at you intensely, gripping your ass tightly, making you gasp. With a hoarse, almost threatening voice, he answered: "I don’t even want to imagine seeing you with someone else. If it’s not me… there shouldn’t be anyone else." It came naturally to you to run your hands through his messy brown hair, ruffling it. "You’re so cute when you’re jealous…" Jake immediately warned you, sweetly degrading you: "Pest, don’t tease me like that… or you’ll end up crying under me." Then he gave your ass a small slap, making the fabric of your skirt snap against your skin, and a moan escaped your lips, making you feel all hot. Jake laughed softly, a rough sound that made you vibrate inside: "Tell me, what do you plan to do with your future boyfriend… who, by the way, will only be me. Got it, pest?" Still a little out of breath, you responded with a provocative smile: "You’re too possessive, Jake." He praised you, nibbling your neck, while his hand under the sweater caressed your bare back: "Because… you’re all mine. Only mine." Then, with a hot whisper in your ear, he asked: "And now… I want to know: what dirty thoughts have you had about me?" You blushed, shaking your head with a small, awkward smile. Jake reminded you, biting your ear: "Don’t play shy, pest… you already confessed them to me before… now I want the details." You closed your eyes and, trembling, began to think of all those fantasies that you had repressed for months, with your face on fire and your heart pounding in your chest, you approached his ear, feeling the warm and spicy scent of his skin. You whispered softly, your voice trembling "…I touched myself all summer thinking of you… I wanted to feel your mouth against my nipples… I wanted to beg your name as I came to your face … your fingers… I wanted to feel you inside me, so crazy. And I wanted to do it in places where they could also discover us… I also thought about the erotic games that older girls talked about… the ones they did to their boyfriends…" He stood still for a second as if your breath had ignited his blood. Then, slowly, like a predator savoring its prey, you lifted up its sweater, revealing its sculpted abdomen. You began to kiss him shyly, from the collarbones, passing with the tip of the tongue along the perfect line of his abs. Your little hands trembled against his warm skin, as he closed his eyes, barely holding back control. With a hoarse voice, deep and sharp, he gently degraded you: "Little plague… you have no idea what you're doing to me. You're playing with fire… and I'm not going to turn it off." he inhaled hard, clenching his jaw: "I want to adore you, make you cry from pleasure… I want to hear you implore me to fuck you, princess. But not today. Today I will teach you to collapse under my touch." You nodded trembling, not being able to look away from his black eyes, so full of desire. In a broken voice you asked him «…C - what should I do…?" he just smiled, that dirty smile that made your knees shake: "Stand up slightly, love." You obeyed, arching your pelvis. With a quick whispered spell, he slid your skirt down to your ankles. Your sweatshirt also faded like snow in the sun, leaving you alone in a red lingerie outfit that looked sewn to your skin.

"Fucking little temptress… Red panties and a matching bra? You planned to make me lose my mind, didn't you, plague?" He made you lie slowly on the couch and climbed on top of you, his weight against your half-naked body. He slid his hard cock over your most sensitive part, snatching at you a sweet moan, so spontaneous that he growled softly. He rubbed softly, feeling the heat between you, while his hands held you still, as if you were about to escape from too great a pleasure. Slowly he began to cover your thighs with small kisses, to climb up, to make you tremble. She reached the edge of the red panties and stopped, looking into your eyes: "You're sure, little plague…?» You stammered, blushing furiously " I want you… just you… Please…" With a carnivorous smile, he slid his panties off, throwing them somewhere behind him. He bent down to look at you, to take you all with his gaze and gently degraded you: "Look how you are already all lucid to me… Dirty little plague…" You bit your lip as his fingers grazed your hot center, making you moan. You asked him with a little voice: "Jake.. want… I want to feel good… Please…" He smiled against your skin: "Oh, my love… I'll make you feel so good that you'll never want to break away from me again." he ran a finger against your swollen, throbbing clitoris, pinching it slightly. A desperate groan eluded you, as you moaned his nickname: "Jakey.." He smiled proudly, and continued to tease you with slow, deep touches, making you lose all thought, all control, all rationality…he slowly slid his tongue against your clit, savoring you for the first time. Your body arched its hips in a snap, as if lightning had passed through you all, and without even thinking about it you pulled his hair with force, babbling in groans: "J-J.. It's too much… too good… Please… don't stop…" He giggled at you, the heat of his breath making you tremble even more. He degraded you with a hoarse voice and kneaded with desire: "My plague… are you already lost under my tongue, huh? Wait till you feel my cock inside you… I'll break you in two, just because you're mine." As his words made you all tremble, you felt the promise of a deeper touch: he whispered to you, " Now I'll slide a finger inside this fucking wet cunt, baby. Prepare." you nodded frantically, unable to say anything else, and when his finger entered you slowly, you screamed with pleasure, your head throwing back on the couch: "A-ahhh… J-Jakey!" he swore, as he felt how tight you was, so damn tight he had to restrain himself: "Fuck… you're perfect…tight just for me…tight for the only guy who will have you. Tight for what will break you while he fucks you, my baby." His tongue moved back to your clitoris with small slow movements, making eights while his finger gently prepared you. You moaned, stammered broken words while still pulling his hair, unable to control the pleasure that invaded you "you-you are… so good… so good… I want you… I want you… ak.." Without warning you, he slid a second finger into you. Your body stiffened and you moaned in despair.

"T-too much… It's too much…" he laughed softly against your skin, enjoying your every reaction: "I'm just preparing you, little plague. You don't even know how little I'll hold out before I want to fuck you on every surface of Hogwarts…" He kept working you slow, feeling your muscles tighten around his fingers. You moaned, you called him, you abandoned yourself to him without shame. "J.. jake.. I want to come… Please… I want to come for you…" he lifted his head and looked at you from above, his mouth shining at you, a dangerous smile on his lips "Do you want to come, my love? Then give me something in return. Tell me a dirty thought you made about me." you shook your head hard, all red, biting your lip. "N-no… I can't… it's embarrassing…" "Good girls only come if they give something in return. If you don't want to tell me… then you don't deserve to come, plague." And so, with a slow and cruel movement, he removed a finger from inside you. "N-no! No, please! Don't stop!" He looked at you satisfied, waiting. With tears in his eyes from need, you collapsed and stammered "During… during a game of Quidditch……I thought how nice it would be for me to get in the stands….with your uniform still on… and I with nothing under my skirt…..while everyone looked at you as the hero……and I knew you were scoring the real point with me…" he growled quietly, as if those words had taken away any remaining control. He pinched your clit with cruel and perfect precision. You screamed his name, your body exploding under his fingers, your hips moving uncontrollably against his hand, as you squirted against his mouth and fingers. He looked at you like you were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. He leaned over you and kissed you sweetly, making you savor yourself on his tongue, as he whispered: "Very good girl, my little plague…You were perfect for me… and it's just the beginning." He held you in his strong arms, his heart still beating madly, as you felt that, with him, you would know heaven… and the sweetest hell.

It had been two months since you and Jake had decided to give being together a try and to be honest, those had been two of the best months of your life. In class, you were among the best: every time the professor gave you an excellent grade on a project, you knew there was a special "reward" waiting for you… Jake, who would secretly take your hand under the desks, would drag you down the darkest halls of Hogwarts and kiss you against the cold stone statues, smiling between kisses like a boy who had just won his most important trophy: you. There were nights when, with the invisibility cloak, you'd lie together on the banks of the Black Lake. You'd gaze at the constellations, and talk about your dreams, and he would hold you tight, whispering sweet things… or dirty ones, depending on his mood. During the parties, Jake became even more bold: when Heeseung was busy dancing with his girlfriend — your best friend — or hiding somewhere to do who knows what, Jake would approach you from behind. He'd whisper things in your ear that made your cheeks turn red and your heart race, things about how much he desired you and how he couldn’t wait to be alone with you. Between a hidden kiss, a stolen laugh, and study nights where you ended up kissing more than studying, you and Jake had become inseparable. Even though no one officially knew yet… especially Heeseung.

That afternoon, you were walking side by side with your usual group: Sunghoon and his girlfriend, your best friend (Hee's girlfriend), Ni-Ki, Sunoo, Jay, Jungwon, and of course, Jake. Jake was next to you, talking to Jay, but now and then, he would throw you quick glances and lightly brush his hand against yours, as if to remind you he was there. You all entered the sweet shop in Hogsmeade, immersed in the usual sugary scent of chocolate, caramel, and cotton candy. The line was long, but while you were focused on choosing which pastry to get, a boy approached. He was tall, much taller than Jake. Blond hair, almost shaved, and eyes as blue as the frozen sea. He introduced himself with a confident smile:

"Hey, how’s it going? I’m Jareth. I think you’ve heard of me… I’m on the Ravenclaw Quidditch team." You turned around, surprised, recognizing the name: Jareth, the one Heeseung had mentioned weeks before. You smiled politely and introduced yourself. Jareth was the complete opposite of Jake: where Jake was muscular but agile, Jareth was imposing and massive. Jake had those deep, warm hazel puppy-dog eyes, while Jareth’s looked sharp and cold. Casually, as you were picking a pastry, he asked: "I was wondering if you’d like to go out with me, maybe this weekend… You know, I got permission from your brother." You stopped, surprised, and then raised an eyebrow. "Oh… really? I feel like a medieval princess, locked in a tower… how sweet!" Your little jab didn’t go unnoticed. Behind you, Jay and Jake — who had heard everything — started laughing quietly, but Jake… Jake was nervously running a hand through his hair, his eyes bright with restrained jealousy. His lips were pressed tight, and Jay gave him a pat on the shoulder, whispering: -Don’t make a scene, bro… Breathe.- Jareth, oblivious to the tension, gave you another bold smile. "So, what do you say?" You tilted your head to the side, studying him for a few seconds, then smiled sweetly. "You were kind to ask for permission… but no, thanks. Right now, I’ve got other things on my mind. I just want to graduate with good grades, that’s all." Jareth nodded understandingly, not pressing further, and waved goodbye with a small, respectful gesture. Jake, sitting at a table not far away with Jay and the others, clenched his jaw tightly, so much so that Jay noticed and nudged him in the side to get him to relax. When you returned to the group with your bag of sweets, you sat right next to Jake.

He glanced at you sideways, his hands clenched on his knees as if he were holding himself back. Heeseung, sitting across from you, stared at you with furrowed brows and burst out: 'Why didn’t you say yes to him?' You rolled your eyes in exasperation. "Because I don’t like him, Hee! Do I need to repeat myself?" Jay, amused by the whole situation, chimed in with a mischievous laugh. -Then tell us, what’s your type? What kind of guy would you really like?- But before you could answer, Heeseung mumbled through gritted teeth: 'Definitely not you.' Jay immediately raised his hands in surrender, laughing. -Relax, big bro, my heart beats for someone else!- You giggled under your breath while biting into your chocolate pastry, finding the whole scene ridiculous but sweet at the same time. You chewed slowly, thoughtful, then looked at Jay — but also glanced at Jake out of the corner of your eye — and began to list dreamily: "I like guys who are a bit cheeky… not shy. They need a lot of affection… especially physical affection." Jake bit his lip, lowering his hoodie to hide a smile. "They need to be sweet but also a little… perverted," you continued, with an embarrassed grin. Jake almost choked on the hot chocolate he was drinking, while Jay laughed loudly. "And they need to know what they want," you added, crossing your arms. "Physically," you laughed a little, "I like guys with dark, long hair, a bit nerdy but not too much, with big brown eyes, and an athletic build…" Jake made a joke, throwing a jab that made Jay blush. "Basically… you want the whole package. 24/7 worship included?" You turned towards him, clutching the bag of sweets in your hands, and with a fake innocent smile said: "Exactly." Heeseung was staring at you in silence, with such a dark look that it seemed like he could zap someone at any moment. Finally, he snapped, crossing his arms over his chest. 'It was better when you were ten and running around the meadow chasing frogs, rather than hearing you talk about boys…' His girlfriend, laughing softly, gave him a light shove on the shoulder. 'Maybe that’s true for others, but for her, it’s different.' You clenched your jaw, irritated, and staring at him with eyes that were teary but firm, you replied: "One day, you’ll have to accept who my boyfriend is, Hee. Because I won’t stop wanting to love just to make you happy." At that point, Jake lowered his gaze, clenching his fists under the table, as if every word was a blow to his chest.

That afternoon, like every day, you were sitting in the study room, immersed in your Magical Astrophysics notes. The pen spun between your fingers as you tried to solve a complex problem about the trajectories of enchanted comets. The chair in front of you creaked slightly. An involuntary smile brushed your lips: at this hour, Jake always arrived, as punctual as a clock. But when you lifted your gaze, the smile slowly died on your lips. In front of you were blond hair and ice-blue eyes. Jareth. "Jareth…" you whispered, confused. He smiled at you affably, with that overly confident way about him. "Need a hand?" he asked, tilting his head. "No, thanks… I’m fine," you replied quickly, returning your focus to your notes. But he still approached, noticing a small mistake in your calculation. "Here," he said, touching your notebook with the tip of his finger, "you made a small error." You corrected it immediately, mumbling a barely perceptible thank you. Then, with casual ease, Jareth leaned toward you and whispered: "So… the answer is still no?" You looked at him, puzzled. "No?" you repeated. "I mean… to the date," he clarified, biting his lip with a mischievous look. You sighed. "Yes, the answer is still no." Jareth chuckled softly, not at all discouraged. "It’s just two hours… I won’t ruin your study plans. And if you want, we could catch up tonight in the common room… together," he added, brushing your arm with his hand. It was at that moment that a familiar, rough voice cut through the air like a blade. "Don’t you dare touch her." You whipped around. Jake was there, standing, fists clenched at his sides and a look so fierce it seemed like it could burn Jareth on the spot. Jareth snickered, throwing a challenging glance at Jake: "Relax, mate." Jake gritted his teeth and, in a low, dangerous voice, hissed, "I’m not friends with anyone." Then he moved closer, gently but firmly grabbing your wrist. "Grab your stuff," he ordered, leaving you no escape. With your heart in your throat, you quickly stuffed your books into your bag and followed him. Jake walked ahead of you, occasionally glancing back at you with quick looks, as if making sure you were still there. He kept running a nervous hand through his hair. You walked quickly down the deserted hallways of Hogwarts, and then he opened the door to the Room of Requirement.

As always, the room had understood exactly what you needed: a crackling fireplace, a large, soft sofa… and a canopy bed draped in velvet curtains. You placed your bag against the sofa, your heart pounding wildly. When you turned around, Jake was already behind you. In one swift motion, he gently but decisively pushed you against the wall. He stayed just a few centimeters away from you, his breath heavy, his eyes flashing with conflicting emotions. "Why did you smile at him?" he whispered, his voice rough. You looked at him, surprised, but didn’t even have time to respond before Jake took your face in his hands, as if afraid of breaking you, and his thumb traced the line of your cheek. "I don’t want… I can’t see you with anyone else," he said, his forehead resting against yours. "I’m not good, I’m not perfect… but I want you all to myself." You felt his words tremble against your skin, like a prayer and a promise at the same time. His lips crashed against yours with a hunger that made you tremble. Without thinking, you grabbed the hood of his sweatshirt and pulled him even closer, snatching a low growl from his throat. When his tongue invaded your mouth, it seemed that an explosion of dances, sparks and magic fires exploded inside you. You groaned softly against his lips as you felt his hands sink into your hips as if he wanted to sculpt your body into memory. "I can't take it anymore," he muttered against your mouth, his voice hoarse and broken. "Me neither… I want you ,Jake.." you whispered, panting. But he paused for a second, looking into your eyes with a vulnerability that gripped your heart. "I don't want to make you suffer." You smiled, caressing his face. "I will not suffer… I've liked you for years." He let out a low growl, as if he could no longer restrain himself, and picked you up with frightening ease. He laid you gently on the large four-poster bed, the curtains swaying above you like a curtain ready to hide you from the world. He leaned over you and began to tease your neck with small wet kisses, making you laugh and moan softly. "I would have liked to… do it the first time in your room… or in mine," he whispered as he kissed your collarbone, "but Hee would find out right away." You smiled, hands entwined in his hair. "I like the Room of Necessity…" He smiled against your skin and let his sweatshirt off with an impatient gesture. Your eyes rested greedily on his defined muscles, on the warm skin that smelled of him. "You're…" you began, but he rolled over you. He straddled you on his sides, hazel eyes shining as if you were his one universe. With trembling hands you lifted his sweater, revealing his perfect chest, warm and toned. When he saw that you only had your bra underneath, he made a cute pout that made you laugh. "Little plague…" he murmured, gently degrading you as he gazed adoring at you. You bent down and began to kiss him everywhere: along his chest, on the ribs, until you left little hickeys on his skin. You could feel his breaths accelerating beneath you, his body straining every time your mouth slid over a sensitive spot.

With his heart pounding, you slowly pulled down the zip of his pants. When his gray boer: "you're… beautiful." he laughed softly, stroking your cheek. "You too, my love." In a moment of audacity, you rubbed against his hard penis, feeling its firm, pulsating texture beneath you. he groaned softly, clasping his hands on your sides.

"Continuous…" he begged you in a low voice. You continued to move slowly above him, first with small circles, then slightly increasing the pace, enjoying his reactions: the way he moaned your name, the way he closed his eyes to restrain himself. "P-I can… can I touch it and masturbate it?" you asked him with a thread of voice, trembling but excited, he giggled, his voice hoarse and low. "Where did you learn to speak like that? "he teased you, looking at you with those eyes full of desire. You smiled and, biting your lip, answered: "From a magician… who studies astrophysics… play Quidditch… and he's Australian." Jake let himself go against the mattress, his dark hair tousled and his dark eyes fixed on yours while you, straddling his muscular thighs, lowered his gray boxer when his member sprinted free, long, thick and taut against his sculpted abs, you squinted without even being able to restrain yourself. "M-merlin…" you stuttered, feeling his face glow with blush as you gazed at every pulsating vein, every impressive detail of him. he laughed, his hoarse, low laugh vibrating in your chest. He pushed back a strand behind your ear, thumb gently brushing your cheek. "I told you I would only make you feel good," he muttered against your lips,"I will never hurt you, baby" He guided your hand towards him. Trembling with excitement, you closed your hand around its hot, pulsating member, starting to pump softly, feeling the velvety skin and live weight under your fingers. he threw his head against the pillow and moaned loudly, not ashamed.

"So, baby … Fuck, you look like you were born to drive me crazy." You lowered yourself slowly, brushing the damp tip with your tongue, licking as if you were savoring a forbidden dessert. he bit his lip hard so as not to moan even louder, but you grabbed his wrist and took his hand out of his mouth. "I want to hear you," he whispered in a hoarse, mischievous voice, as you continued to tease him, slowly licking the tip, pressing his hand harder on his member. he moaned openly this time, without holding back. With one quick move, he pulled down your skirt and with it your panties, laughing at your skin while you, surprised, screamed his name. "Multitasking," he whispered with a devilish smile. He made you sit better on his thighs and, while you continued to lick and masturbate him, he ran his fingers between your thighs, caressing your clitoris already swollen with desire. A shiver ran through your entire back and you moaned hard against his cock. "You're already so wet, princess …" he laughed against your ear, as he ran two expert fingers inside you, starting to move them slowly. "I'm … I'm already melting," you moaned, involuntarily moving your hips against his fingers. he pushed deeper, while his thumb gently tormented your clit. You felt flooded with pleasure and you, without even thinking about it, rubbed harder against his hand and cock. "Keep sucking me like this," he growled softly, "and I'll make you cum so hard you won't stand up, baby" Your mouth and hands moved more decisively, while he increased the intensity of the caresses between your legs. Your tongue moved slow and greedy around the tip of his cock, savoring every ooze of his pleasure. He, with one hand in your hair, guided you a little further down, gently pushing you to welcome more into your mouth. "Breathe out of your mouth, Baby" He moaned at that gesture, his fingers sinking even deeper into your wet cunt, pumping at a more rapid and decisive pace. When you looked up at him, crossing eyes obscured by desire,you felt all trembling. You unwittingly clasped your cunt around his fingers, moaning against his throbbing flesh. he degraded you slowly, your voice scratche: "Look how good you are … a little slut all to myself, so tight and hungry for my fingers and my cock…" Your face became even redder,but the desire made your skin burn. In a shy voice, you stammered: "I … it drives me crazy to see you so lost to me … with those unkempt tufts on your forehead… your lips pouted with pleasure … you are so fucking beautiful…" he growled softly, his abdomen twitched strongly. "Fuck, I'm going to come…" he gasped. You, without hesitation, continued to suck it harder, feeling it throbbing between your lips. When it exploded in your mouth, its hot seed gently invaded you.

You did not stop: you licked everything, swallowing without leaving a single drop, as his hoarse moans filled the air. he looked at you as you wiped your lips with your tongue, and in his thoughts he screamed:

It's mine. No one will ever touch her again. She was born to be on top of me, to suck my life away. No one has ever done this to me. No.

Meanwhile, his fingers had never stopped-they continued to work at you with fierce dedication. You groaned in disarray, your hips moving by themselves, until a powerful wave swept over you and you screamed against his chest, coming hard against his fingers. Your excitement flooded his hand and part of his abdomen. he watched the scene, rapt and fucking proud, as he kissed your forehead softly and muttered against your trembling skin

"You're perfect, baby, Never stop coming for me like that, ever."

Then he slowly licked his fingers, savoring your taste as he looked at you with a bloody satisfied smile.

he pushed you with sweetness but also a hunger held against the pillows of the bed, his body pressing against yours, warm, alive, eager only for you. He kissed you with an overwhelming passion, his hands clutching your face as if you were the most precious thing in the world. Between kisses, you whispered breathlessly: "I want you Jake"

He just stood up, his breath broken, his eyes shining with emotion as he stroked your hair. "Are you sure, Baby" he asked in a low voice, his forehead against yours. "What we are going to do... is not just preliminary. It will be real sex." You nod firmly, clutching his face in your hands:

"I want it... but only with you." he closed his eyes for a moment, as if holding back a greater emotion than he did, then kissed you again and praised you in a hoarse whisper "You are the most beautiful thing I could ever have..."

He ducked slightly, driving his hard, pulsating cock between your swollen, wet folds. He slowly slid the tip down your slit, making you moan arching your hips, brushing your clit just to get used to its grandeur. You grabbed his hair with a trembling hand, panting: "Please … I want to hear you inside,Jake" He gently degraded you, murmuring: "Honey … if you feel bad, shake my hand hard. I'll stop, okay?" Nod, completely trusting him. Jake, with extreme delicacy, pushed his cock against your narrow and taut entrance. The head of his cock forced the virgin and hot entrance slowly, making you gasp loudly. "Breathe … relax, love …" he encouraged you, slowly kissing your cheek. When you felt that it filled you, slowly, a mixture of pleasure and a pinch of pain invaded you. he groaned at the feeling so incredibly tight around him, his voice broken: "You're … fucking perfect … so tight for me…" He pressed you against himself, letting you get used to it, and after a few moments you whispered to him in a trembling voice: "You can move… slowly, please…" Jake obeyed, sliding just outside and then slowly pushing into you, a little more each time. You groaned, your hips moving to welcome him better, the body learning its shape, its rhythm. You clasped your legs around her hips, panting: "More … I want you all…" He began to move deeper, pumping his cock into you with slow but increasingly intense thrusts. Your eyes spilt with pleasure, your lips stuttering unchecked: "C - so beautiful… you are so big… I feel everything… you are everywhere inside me…" he degraded you in a hoarse voice, without stopping: "Look how well you take me, Baby!" He kissed you violently, without ceasing to push you, while you screamed at his mouth: "I'm yours ,Jake Forever! Only yours!"

At those words he lost all restraint. He was no longer the sweet and shy guy: his need for you was total, desperate, absolute. He began to hammer you with deep and fast blows, the bed squeaking below you, while every moan, every cry, every dirty kiss you exchanged seemed to enshrine that promise between your bodies and your hearts. His cock pounded inside you mercilessly, filling you up to your stomach, making you lose your breath with every stroke. In the room there were only your moans, the wet sound of bodies meeting, the intoxicating scent of your sweaty skin, the sound of the skin slapping against the skin. And his hoarse dirty voice degrading you unfiltered: "Feel how well you take me, so wet just for me… you are perfect … fucking perfect … you were born to be under me, under my cock…" You screamed with pleasure, without shame, clutching the sheets, the muscles of your thighs trembling under each powerful lunge. he took one of your legs and placed it over his shoulder, and with a deep and precise blow he twirled his hips. His cock violently hit your point G. You squirmed on the bed, an excruciating, pleasure-filled cry escaped from your lips: "JJAKEY" Tears rolled down your cheeks, the pleasure was so intense that it made you sob. he, seeing you so vulnerable and overwhelmed, degraded you with a satisfied grin. "God, you are so beautiful as you cry with pleasure for me … I want to see you like this every time I fuck you, every time, baby…" You pulled hard the sweaty tufts that fell on his forehead, trying to hold on to him as the only lifeline. When you opened your eyes slightly, you found him staring at you. His brown eyes had become dark with desire, but also full of love. He could no longer see the little girl chasing frogs in the clearing, no. In front of him was a woman. His woman. In a low voice, trembling and sincere, you whispered against his lips: "I love you ,Jake" His body shook over you. With a stronger hip snap he hit you in even deeper, making you moan loudly, as one of his hands lowered to tease your swollen clit. With a broken voice he degraded you again: "Then come, love… come around my cock as I fill you up, I want to feel you squeeze me tight as I cum inside you, make you mine forever…" In between sobs, you stuttered as you trembled.

"I can't take it anymore... I feel you up... to the stomach... I want you all, inside me... I want to come ... I just want you..." he growled softly upon hearing you, ducked even further on your body, pumping you faster and rougher, while pinching and massaging your clit.

You were breaking under the pleasure, the tension that mounted unstoppable, until you exploded around him with a cry that seemed to tear through the air. You felt his cock throb violently inside you, his hot seed filling you out of control, while he moaned your name against your neck. You could feel it dripping, the hot strands of cum running down your trembling thighs, as he squeezed hard against you, whispering in your ear:

"You are perfect ... You are mine...I love you..." His thoughts were a gentle and fierce storm:

There is nothing else for me. Just her. Just my girlfriend. Just my princess.

And your heart was racing mad thinking the same thing: Just him. Justake Forever.

Jake remained completely buried deep, as you felt his warm, abundant seed flood you, slowly dripping as his labored breathing mingled with yours. He made you moan still faintly just because of the way his cock throbbed inside you, as if his body also wanted to stick together with yours forever. Her hair was tickling on your shoulder, and his face was hidden in your neck, wet with sweat and kisses. In a hoarse, low voice, he whispered to you:

"I don't want to get out of you anymore, bay" As he spoke, he still pushed his cock slightly inside you, making you moan louder, a mixture of pleasure and sweet agony. Then he added dirt, growling softly against the skin: "You are my little slut to spoil... my little doll to fill up until you feel full of me ... You are made only for me, baby..."

Your legs instinctively tightened around his, trapping him even more inside you. he giggled against your neck, his voice glowing with love and pleasure: "Sadist ... You are my personal little sadist, my love..."

After a few minutes, he pushed himself out of you very slowly. His hard, shiny cock slid out, letting go of all the sticky threads of his semen that trickled down your thighs, dirty and shaking.

The sensation made you shiver and smile at the same time. With a small movement of his wand, Jake conjured a damp, warm cloth. With infinite tenderness, he gently cleaned you, caressing the inside of your thigh while planting little kisses between your belly and hips. Then he passed his sweatshirt over your head, dressing you with a tender and protective gesture, pulling you against his chest. Jake held you as if he wanted to merge with you, his scent mixed with yours being the most beautiful thing you'd ever smelled. He wrapped you in his strong arms, like a loving bear, and chuckled against your hair: "I never imagined I'd fall in love with the girl chasing frogs in the enchanted clearing… or the crazy one who chose magical astrophysics just because… I was the professor's student." You burst out laughing and pinched his side. "Conceited! Astrophysics is a serious subject; I didn't pick it because of some idiot Australian obsessed with Quidditch!" Jake laughed softly, his body trembling gently against yours. He propped himself up slightly on one elbow, gazed into your eyes with that warm look, and placed a small, tender kiss on your forehead. With a whisper, he said, "I love you, baby… truly…" Your eyes moistened again, but this time it was only happiness. You smiled at him and replied softly, your heart bursting, "I love you too, Jake… so much…" You cuddled a little longer, while the magic of the Room of Requirement seemed to protect you from everything else in the world. Then, with a small grimace, Jake ran a hand through his still-sweaty hair and mumbled, "Maybe it’s time to ask your brother for permission to date you…" You bit your tongue between your teeth and gave him another pinch on the side, making him jump. "You’re a bit late, Sim. You should have asked before… well, how should I put it… leaving me breathless." Jake laughed heartily, the sound you loved more than anything else, and pulled you back against him, holding you tight as if he wanted to shield you from the whole world. And you fell asleep there, in his arms, knowing you’d never feel more loved than that.

It had been a week since that night when you and Jake had finally let go—body and soul. A week since you realized it wasn’t just desire, wasn’t just magic or attraction: it was love. You had seen it in his eyes, felt it in the way he whispered your name, and above all, in the way he held you afterward as if he never wanted to let you go.

But there was still one last constellation to face… one last complicated spell: your brother, Heeseung.

Fiercely protective, to the point of obsession, he had always been the silent guardian of your freedom. You and Jake hadn’t yet found the courage to tell him, and maybe, deep down, you hoped you wouldn’t have to. But real magic—the powerful kind, the kind that moves planets and hearts—can’t be hidden for long.

That day, you and Jake had changed spots. Your usual corner beneath the Astronomy Tower had been discovered by Jareth—and, along with him, half the Academy. So you moved beneath the Eastern Tower, a quieter place where lanterns floated lazily and the abandoned telescopes made you feel small beneath the universe.

Jake sat cross-legged on the blanket laid out over the enchanted grass, and you, robes slightly parted and hair tousled by the wind, were perched on his strong thighs, your knees on either side of his waist. You were supposed to be studying—or at least trying to.

“Repeat after me: what’s the incantation to summon Aurum Draco, the Golden Dragon constellation?”

“Easy,” you said with a sly smile, “Stellae Draconis, lux eterna, revelate praesentiam tuam.”

He smiled and kissed you softly beneath your ear.

“Very good,” he murmured. “Now, what’s the symbolic meaning of the Nox Corvus constellation?”

You hesitated.

“It symbolizes... the shadow of truth? No, the deceit in knowledge? Or—”

He gently pinched the inside of your thigh. “Getting distracted, aren’t you?”

You laughed softly, your warm breath brushing his neck. He laughed too—that deep, low laugh that made your insides vibrate. It felt like being trapped in an enchanted bubble, where the only reality was his hands gripping your hips and his gaze devouring you like you were the only constellation he ever wanted to memorize.

Then came the difficult question.

“Tell me about Lirae Serpentis.”

Your eyes widened and lit up. That was his favorite. You started gesturing, your hands dancing in the air as you described the shape of the ancient sky-serpent, its connection to healing magic and eternal promises. Jake’s eyes grew glassy as you spoke, enchanted, as if every word you said made the sky more beautiful. Eventually, he couldn’t resist anymore. He pulled you closer and kissed you with all the sweetness—and hunger—that only true love can bring. He held you tight, one hand steady on your back, the other supporting you beneath your thighs. And in that moment, time stopped. A sharp sound, a breath caught. A heartbeat suspended in the air. Heeseung. He had just passed by the tower, but something had made him look—maybe your voice, or maybe just cruel fate. He saw everything: you, gesturing passionately, your body curled over his best friend’s, Jake’s hands on you, your kiss—long, deep, honest. And he… assumed the worst. As if Jake had cast a dark spell on you. As if he had taken advantage of your vulnerability. As if that love was something you needed to be protected from. -Y/n!- he shouted, his voice sharp, like a spell ready to explode. You turned abruptly, heart in your throat. Jake instinctively shielded you with his arms, but Heeseung was already upon you. He shoved Jake back with force, sending him rolling off the blanket. -You’re touching my sister? Have you lost your mind?!- Jake got up immediately, but he didn’t react with anger. He looked Heeseung straight in the eyes, his gaze steady and glassy. “She’s not just your sister,” he said calmly. “She’s the girl I love.” The magic in the air trembled. And that’s when you, still trembling, stood up and placed yourself between them. You looked Heeseung in the eyes and, with the calm of someone who doesn’t ask for permission—but demands respect—you said: “And I love him. He’s who I want to be with. There’s no dark magic here, no trickery—just truth.” Heeseung didn’t respond right away. He simply stared at you both, his chest rising and falling as he tried to separate reality from fear. Finally, he looked away. -Maybe I’m the one who needs to learn a new constellation,- he muttered. -The one where my little sister becomes a woman.- And he walked away, leaving behind a silent trail of shifting stars.

You turned to follow him, your legs still shaking, but Jake stopped you with a whisper and a gentle caress on your wrist. “Let him go, love. He needs time.” You turned to face him, eyes glassy, throat tight with unshed words. You leaned into his chest, listening to the familiar, steady rhythm of his heartbeat. You held his hand, searching for an answer that could soothe you, for a truth to lift the weight off your chest. “Did you ruin everything?” you asked in a whisper. Jake didn’t answer right away. He gently lifted your chin with two fingers, those amber eyes you’d known your whole life—since you were a child watching him play Quidditch with your brother, those same eyes that made your heart race once you realized he was no longer just Hee’s friend—looking right into yours. “It takes two,” he said softly. “And we didn’t ruin anything. The heart doesn’t follow rules.” Then he kissed your forehead with a gesture that felt like both a promise and protection. You nodded, closing your eyes. In that moment, even if everything else seemed to be falling apart, you felt safe.

But the days that followed were hard. Heeseung stopped speaking to Jake. He’d said sharp, bitter, angry things. -I never thought you’d betray me like this,” he told him. “You took everything from her. Even her innocence.- Jake didn’t reply right away, but when he did, his voice trembled slightly. “She’s not a child anymore. She’s a woman. And I… I love her. Truly.” When Heeseung found out that even his girlfriend—your best friend—had known all along about the secret meetings, the stolen touches beneath the stars, he felt even more alone. Even his circle of friends had known. And he hadn’t. He felt blind. Betrayed. Foolish. That evening, after training, he went to the Quidditch pitch alone. He always did that when he needed to think, broom slung over his shoulder, eyes turned to the sky. Jake found him there, stopping him before he could disappear into the locker room. “Hey,” he said quietly. “Can we talk?” Heeseung looked at him—tired, sweaty, and wounded in his pride. -What now, need another tip on how to sneak into my sister’s bed?- Jake didn’t flinch. He raised his hands in surrender, that golden-retriever softness trying to lighten the mood. “Okay, that was harsh… but I deserved it. Still—I miss you. I miss talking to you. You’re my best friend, damn it.” Heeseung stared for a few more seconds, then sighed and sat down in the stands. Jake sat beside him, leaving a bit of space between them. “I need you to know something,” Jake said sincerely. “I’m serious about your sister. This isn’t a game. I’ve been thinking about her for months. About how the sky looks at her when she walks. About how she laughs when she messes up a spell. I want the best for her. And I want to be there—for all of it. As his friend. As his partner. As whatever she needs.” Heeseung stayed quiet. Then he turned to him, face more serious than ever. -If I see her cry—even once—because of you… you’re off the team. Got it?- Jake straightened, solemn, hand to forehead. “Yes, Captain.” Heeseung shoved him, laughing, and Jake let himself fall over dramatically. -Idiot,- Hee muttered. Jake sat up again, face suddenly more serious. “Can I make it official? A real date. With your sister.” Heeseung looked at him, sighed, and then glanced up at the sky. -One. And if you take her to some cheap, sleazy place, I swear I’ll hex you into sneezing snot bubbles for a week.- “Deal!” Jake grinned, and the two of them hugged—one of those strong embraces between people who’ve messed up, but don’t want to lose each other. The kind of hug that proves some battles aren’t won with magic, but with the heart.

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[moonastro]

groom persona chart

saturn in the houses

what is a groom persona chart? this chart exhibits qualities that your husband will have and possible placements that can be seen in their chart. it is simply a chart all about your spouse in a woman's chart. the asteroid groom can be identified using the code 5129.

saturn in the groom persona chart will portray how your spouse may find limitations and trouble evaluating with you as a partner. it can suggest what can hinder and slow or disturb your relationship.

--a little reminder before we get into this, if there's another planet conjunct Saturn in your groom persona chart this may influence the impact majorly.

(for example if pluto is conjunct ---saturn---there can be secrecy, manipulation, even physical conflict involved that hinders your relationship,----if jupiter--- is conjunct saturn, this may suggest your spouse not being open, not being open minded, not learning from their mistakes, not having a big presence, like not taking important initiatives).

Saturn in 1st house: your spouse may not pay attention to your needs as much as you would like them to, which can of course cause some disruption to your relationship. this can be from them not paying attention to your interests, your hobbies, just anything that may link to who you are as a person which can cause frustration. can act cold and distance when not meaning to, your spouse may have some fear of rejection or being scared of you judging him so this placement can cause very slow burns, perhaps your relationship can be a constant long line with how he opens up to you. this placement can suggest him having a practical view of how your relationship should be so he may be the stick to the rules type of guy, perhaps can come across as being bossy a bit too.

saturn in 2nd house: there can be some type of security that your future spouse may lack. he may not be happy about your living conditions, and this can be how you decorate the house, layout of furniture, even area that you live in, he just may have this lack of security. your spouse can also tend to be very frugal with his spendings, this can cause some hindering within the relationship as he may not contribute to the grocery shop for example, or may not agree to spend his money on the things you want him to and this can be vice versa also.

Saturn in 3rd house: this placement can bring your spouse to be a chatter box but in an unnecessary way. there is fine chatter boxes where you want to hear them talk all the time, but for this placement this may suggest either nonsense talking that your spouse may tend to do that could cause some setbacks make something stall within the relationship. this could suggest them and you having a communication barrier so whether that misunderstanding each other because of different interests or perhaps its having different mother tongues etc.

Saturn in 4th house: here some things that can stall your relationship is something to do with boundaries, perhaps you may not respect one another or your spouse may not respect you. and this can be from many things such as ego trouble. the thing with this placement is that there can be stalls involving some home or property issues. there can be a sense of responsivity that you may have in the relationship, a bit like feeling like you have to do everything yourself wo this can also cause some hinders within the relationship. this placement can indicate settling down together rather late, like having a family, moving in together, buying a house etc.

Saturn in 5th house: there may be some type of immaturity with your spouse. they may not take things seriously which can hinder your relations with one another. or this can suggest them acting quite egotistic in front of others when with you, this may suggest them being just genuinely proud of having you as their partner in public but it can just change their character if that makes sense which you may not like which can cause some setbacks or pauses. this placement may suggest either your partner not wanting to have children or you may not want children and this may be an indifference that you may have with one another as say if you dont want kids and they do so they may not entirely be happy about it. sometimes, your partner may be too inconsistent like always going away to party, or wanting to just constantly be out of the house and do something, he may be very free spirited but you may not like that as you may prefer to spend time together or just chill and so this can cause some indifference also.

Saturn in 6th house: your spouse may not respect or hinder your daily routine. like you may have this specific way of doing your daily things and your spouse may not stick by it. this can also suggest your partner not taking care of their health as much also so constant sickness or physical inability can hinder your relationship some type of way. your spouse can also encourage kind of these bad habits or not be as strict about it when it comes to your health. there can be possible need for them to try something new because your spouse may be too focused on doing the same thing over and over again. they can be very stubborn with how they do things and especially may become quite un open to changes especially when that disturbs their routine or their day that they are used to. this placement CAN suggest your future spouse having an illness that can hinder something in the relationship and it doesn't have to be something big it can be something like allergies etc.

Saturn in 7th house: your spouse may tend to be un loyal. well maybe not actually but still may flirt, be invested in others while being in a relationship with you. this can also cause some mutual disagreements with who, or what the other is spending their time with it doesn't have to be un loyal but the company that he may keep can cause some distance between you two. on the other hand there can be hindering to do with contracts, jobs, law stuff, so all these things you may have struggles with while being in a relationship with your partner. also, this placement can suggest having some problems with the actual wedding, perhaps you may not even tie the not until later on the years.

tw-mentions of trauma

Saturn in 8th house: your spouse can be emotionally just not there...like they may completely lack any kind of emotion. your spouse may also exhibit signs of isolation, not wanting to spend time because they may become frustrated very easily, or this can suggest that you both may become quite frustrated with one another. this may also suggest your partner may exhibit toxic behaviours such as often times putting themselves as the victim or may project their unresolved trauma onto you or even your children (if you decide to have any). on the other hand, this placement can suggest your spouse often hiding his real motives and feelings towards anything so you may be just laying there confused by what he actually needs or wants. this placement also suggest your spouse being dependant on you for money, whether its you controlling his money, or him asking you for money etc.

Saturn in 9th house: there can be some type of disruption caused by where your future spouse may have different values, views etc. there can be some difference in where you two grew up in so this can indicate your spouse being from a different background also, but in this case this may suggest them not giving up his traditions and his teachings or the things that he learned to suit you. so this can indicate lots of rebelling against your wishes and can even suggest going behind your back on a lot of things.

Saturn in 10th house: your spouse may have some type of setback involving being too money focused, may worry about money all the time. can also literally suggest them being distant with you and by that this can come in a way where he may be constantly working or preoccupied by materialistic things rather that you. there may be some hinders to do with actually having a job or having a stable financial situation. for example your partner may not keep his jobs for too long which can of course cause some financial problems. your morals and his may differ also, this can indicate a spouse that may be older so there can be differences or hinders to do with age gap differences. so perhaps, he may want to settle to fast, he may take on the authority role and want to keep in charge which can cause some hidden resentment.

Saturn in 11th house: this may suggest your spouse being too serious about everything. may suggest a problem that involves goals and achievements so your spouse may lack having goals in life which can often suggest them having a lack of interest in a lot of things. another problem that can cause some lack within the relationship is one of your social circle, whether its you not acquainting your husbands friends or there might be a problem with who he hangs out with. like the friends that your partner has may not meet your liking, (depending on the degree, or the aspects can also tell you in more detail, like if in aspect with jupiter--this can suggest some hindering with how they make their money- may not try to provide or are careless with their spendings) your spouse can be more social than you so this can create some ignorance between you and him.

Saturn in 12th house: so with this placement your partner may have secrets that he prefers not to share with you. mostly this can suggest them not owning up to it unless he is confronted about it and then this can infuriate him. the thing with this placement is that he may not share his feeling towards you up front. there can be this uselessness that he may have within the relationship, he may be stuck in situations and may not do anything about it which can of course just build up the tension and problems. for this placement this can also suggest addiction being something that hinders or limits the full potential of your relationship with your spouse. this can be smoking, drinking etc. i have noticed a lot of people that have this placement their partners having anger issues😅.

[yuujispinkhair]

I WANNA BE YOUR ENDGAME – Chapter 02

🏒❤️ A Hockey Romance feat. modern!Sukuna

Pairing: HockeyPlayer!Sukuna x Reader (female) Genre: College AU, Hockey AU, fluff + smut Playlist: I wanna be your Endgame Word Count: 4k Warnings: 18+, smut in later chapters, fuckbuddies to lovers. Mentions of cigarettes in this chapter. Reader is a creative writing student. Sukuna is an ice hockey player + history student. This story will have approximately 10 chapters. Minors don't interact. Header by me. Divider @/benkeibear

MASTERLIST

"Will you come to my game this Saturday?"

Sukuna smirks that charming smirk at you again, and his voice is so velvety that it sounds as if he is asking you to come to his bedroom instead of coming to one of his ice hockey games.

You have no idea why you seem to keep running into him lately. Maybe you never were aware of how many times your paths crossed. Or maybe fate decided to play some funny little game with you and the resident hockey star, and now you keep meeting over and over again.

You shrug helplessly and smile at him,

"I don't know. I've never been to a game. I don't even know the rules."

"That doesn't matter. You'll understand it once you watch a game. And if not, you can always ask me to teach you. So, will you come and watch me play?"

Sukuna looks expectantly at you with those pretty eyes. They are a shade of brown you have never seen on anyone else before, that rich maroon color that reminds you of red wine and autumn. Those eyes and that damn boyish grin make it hard for you to say no to Sukuna.

You laugh to cover up how nervous he makes you when he is standing so close to you. Attack is the best form of defence, so you cross your arms in front of your chest, look up at Sukuna, and ask with a raised eyebrow,

"You really want me to watch you play, huh?"

Any other guy would probably get flustered and backpedal or act indifferent. But not Sukuna. His smirk grows even wider, and he nods confidently,

"Yes. Can you even say you went to college if you never saw a hockey game?"

And then he adds with a wink,

"If you come, I will score a goal just for you."

He flashes you another cocky smirk and doesn't wait for your answer but just walks away toward the gym. You stare after him, shaking your head. He is impossible! That confidence is insane! Almost infuriating.

Maybe you should watch Sukuna's game just to see him not deliver what he promised. Sure, he is the resident starboy, but how good can he be? It's not like he is a professional hockey player. Low-key, you want to see Sukuna fuck up just so you can confirm to yourself that he is just another of those arrogant guys who are all talk and no action.

That Saturday, you watch the game. Your first hockey game since you started college. The first game of the Tigers you see. The first time you see Sukuna play.

And you must admit that the stupid title they gave him is accurate.

Sukuna really is The King of the Ice. He is the King of this whole arena!

His playstyle is fast and brutal, which doesn't come as a surprise. But even as a hockey noob, you can tell that Sukuna's mind plays just as much a part as his strength and is just as dangerous as his physical attacks. Strong, ambitious, and intelligent. It's a deadly combination that makes Sukuna unstoppable.

He skates across the ice at breakneck speed, elbowing his way through his opponents and making the rival goalie yell in fear at his teammates in a desperate attempt for them to stop the devil that is speeding towards him. But nothing the other team does seems to work against Sukuna. He is always a step ahead, sidestepping them before they can reach him as if he can predict their moves. You recall him telling you that he does all the analytics and works out the tactics, and you can see now that he didn't just brag but truly seems to know what he is doing.

No wonder the whole team is built around Sukuna. He is the most important player of the Red Tigers. The center of the first line, which to your amusement, is called The Curses because they make their opponents curse their names for being so damn strong. And Sukuna is the King of Curses, which seems a very fitting title. His brother Yuuji is on his right, and Todo is on his left, and both of them are ready to beat up everyone who dares touch their star player.

That's something that seems to happen pretty often. Sukuna keeps getting into fights, but many of them aren't initiated by the rival team. Even without knowing how ice hockey works, you can see that Sukuna provokes fights. You can see his lips move behind the face cage of his helmet while smirking devilishly at a player of the rival team, taunting him until the other guy snaps and drops his hockey stick and pushes Sukuna angrily.

At first, you flinch when you see the fight that erupts from that scene. Yuuji yells something and yanks that guy off a still-smirking Sukuna, dragging him away while Todo brutally bodychecks another rival player who comes over to join the rumble.

But both Yuuji and Todo stop immediately when Sukuna casually skates over and says something to them.

You watch incredulously as Sukuna pulls his gloves and helmet off, revealing his usually slicked-back pink hair, ruffled and out of place. He cocks his head and jerks his chin challengingly at the guy who pushed him, saying something to him, and you frown in confusion as the other guy takes off his helmet and gloves too.

What happens afterward is more of a boxing match than ice hockey. The whole arena is yelling and cheering Sukuna on, singing the team's song anytime their King lands a punch on the other player. Sukuna is a dirty fighter. You can see that. He uses any means he has to win. But he is also smart enough to only do as much as he can get away with without the referee intervening. Though it is a riddle to you, why a fight like that is even allowed in the first place.

You look at Nobara, who is sitting next to you.

"Why are they having a boxing match? Why does the referee not give them a penalty?"

Nobara shrugs,

"I don't know! That's just how hockey works, I guess!"

Right at that moment, Sukuna's fist connects with his opponent's cheek, and the other guy tumbles onto the ice. Sukuna joins him immediately, pressing him down for a moment as if to show his dominance before he lets go of him, pats his cheek tauntingly, and gets up again, smirking broadly.

You only realize now that you held your breath the whole time during the fight, letting it out now and laughing as adrenaline flows through your veins.

You didn't expect to enjoy this game so much, but it's definitely an experience you wouldn't want to miss!

The crowd is cheering loudly, celebrating their King's victory in this weird, inofficial fight that somehow is part of the actual game.

Sukuna skates back to his position, his helmet under one arm and one glove between his teeth, while he puts the other back on. He casually glides over the ice while smirking around the glove in his mouth like a beautiful devil. His eyes wander over the stands, soaking in the admiring gazes and the loud cheers coming from his fans.

And suddenly, Sukuna's gaze brushes over you.

You draw in a sharp breath at the same time as Sukuna digs the metal blades of his ice skates into the ice, coming to a sudden stop. He turns his head to scan the crowd again, and your heart jumps to your throat.

What is he doing? Is he looking for me?

Your heart is hammering in your chest when his gaze finds you again in the crowd, and his grin grows bigger, causing the glove to drop from the hold his teeth had on it, but he catches it casually with his left hand.

For a seemingly endless moment, you stare back at Sukuna, involuntarily feeling your lips lift in a matching broad grin. Your pulse flutters nervously. And then Sukuna winks at you.

Yuuji skates up to his brother and claps him on the back, and Sukuna averts his gaze from you and says something to his brother, pointing at another player, and they both skate over to him. You still look at the spot where Sukuna stood a moment ago, feeling a bit dizzy.

Nobara's voice pulls you out of your daze,

"Did he just wink at you?"

And you shrug helplessly and chuckle to hide how flustered Sukuna's wink made you,

"I don't know. Maybe he was looking at someone else."

But you know he wasn't.

The players on the ice get into position again, and the game continues. But Sukuna's line leaves the ice to sit on the bench while the other players get their turn. You hate to admit it, but you catch your gaze drifting away from the actual game and over to the bench, where Sukuna is sitting, discussing something with Yuuji and Todo.

You watch Sukuna run a hand through his ruffled pink hair, slicking it back again while he takes a sip from his water bottle, which makes his Adam's apple bop in a very enticing way.

Occasionally, Sukuna yells something at his teammates who skate past him. There's an angry fire burning in his eyes. You can see how invested he is in the game. How he watches every move meticulously, probably so he can use it later when he thinks of tactics for the next game. You can see how passionate Sukuna is about ice hockey, and if you are honest, it fills you with respect for him.

Sukuna is back on the ice a while later, just as graceful as before with smooth, fast moves and brutal bodychecks, clearing a path through the rival team's defense, skating so impossibly fast that no one can stop him.

Your fingernails dig painfully into your palms as you watch in complete fascination how Sukuna hits the puck so hard that it almost tears the net when he scores the next goal. The whole arena screams, and you are one of them. So caught up in the thrill of the highspeed game that you jump up from your seat.

On the ice, Sukuna gets buried under a pile of his teammates as they celebrate his insane goal, but once he emerges again with a fist lifted in victory into the air, his gaze instantly lands on you again. And to your shock, Sukuna is smiling. A dazzling, beautiful smile that lights up his whole face. He looks happy and proud and so damn beautiful.

You remember what he said when he asked you to come see his game. If you come to my game, I will score a goal just for you.

Well, he delivered what he promised. And what a goal it was!

Somehow, it makes you giggle like a schoolgirl, and you feel your face growing hot, even as you grin at Sukuna like an idiot. He seems to have only eyes for you, locked in this intense gaze with you while he still smiles that smile that makes your pulse flutter excitedly.

The eye contact becomes too intense for you, and you avert your gaze, too shy suddenly to keep looking at Sukuna.

The game continues, and you lean back in your seat, sipping on your water bottle to calm yourself down.

You wonder why no one ever cared to inform you how exciting ice hockey is! The Tigers are really good. Sukuna is good. No, not just good. He is fucking amazing!

It's fun to watch him play. Watching him skate across the ice like some super-human. Watching him bodycheck his opponents with ease. Watching him score goals with so much speed and precision that it leaves your mouth hanging open as you stare at him completely in awe.

The game is over much faster than you expected. Time flew by any time Sukuna was on the ice. You still have no clue about ice hockey, but you know that you had a damn good time!

On the ice, you see the Tigers high-fiving each other and giving each other back claps, congratulating each other on the win. You watch Sukuna pull off his helmet and laugh at something his coach says to him.

The team takes a victory lap around the rink, waving at the crowd in the stands. But your gaze only follows one specific player with pink hair and face tattoos.

Sukuna is chatting with his brother, reaching out to ruffle Yuuji's hair while they casually skate over the ice. His left hand stays on top of his brother's head even as Sukuna lifts the other hand and smirks up at the stands, letting the crowd celebrate him one last time.

Nobara taps your arm and points to the stairs, and you quickly grab your bag and follow her, still feeling light-headed from the euphoric atmosphere in the arena.

You walk past the plexiglass separating the stands from the ice when you see a flash of pink from the corners of your eyes.

You turn your head, and your gaze instantly lands on Sukuna. He is skating casually next to you, slow enough so he matches your walking pace. There's a smug grin on his tattooed face as he lifts his chin in greeting.

You smile back at him and yell, "Great game!" and his smirk grows even bigger before he yells back,

"Did you like the goal I scored for you?"

You trip over your own feet, making a funny little dance to catch yourself, feeling embarrassment wash over you while you think you hear Sukuna's amused laughter.

You look at him sheepishly, nodding and giving him a thumbs up,

"It was very impressive!"

Sukuna grins proudly at you, flashing his white teeth with the slightly pointy canines at you,

"Oh, everything I do is impressive, princess, I can guarantee."

And you roll your eyes and groan at his arrogance, but at the same time you can't help but snicker in amusement.

Sukuna chooses that moment to grab the front of his jersey and lift it to wipe the sweat off his tattooed face, revealing his stomach with firm abs and more tattoos.

Your eyelashes flutter, and you quickly turn your head away, feeling strangely flustered at the sight of Sukuna's naked skin with the sexy tattoos and all those hard muscles.

Luckily, Nobara grabs your arm at that moment and tells you to hurry up because she wants to meet up with Maki. You let yourself get pulled along, lifting your hand to wave at Sukuna and yell a "Bye!" in his direction, which he answers with a broad, knowing grin.

"So, could I convince you that ice hockey is the best sport?"

You're on your way to class when you see Sukuna almost at the same spot where you crashed into him two weeks ago. But this time, he doesn't wear his white team hoodie but a black sleeveless shirt, which accentuates his broad shoulders and shows off his muscular arms. His red backpack is casually slung over one shoulder, and his maroon eyes sparkle expectantly at you.

You shrug.

"I had a great time. I still know nothing about hockey, though, so I'm not sure about it being the best sport. It was a bit confusing because you practically beat each other up, but the referee didn't do anything about it."

Sukuna laughs. He shoves his hands into the pockets of his black jeans and leans closer to you.

"Yeah, we have official rules and other rules. I'll explain it to you over lunch. Meet me here in four hours."

He makes it sound as if it is set in stone that the two of you will have lunch together. As if the option of you turning him down, is so crazy, that he doesn't even consider it.

You are suddenly very aware of how Sukuna is towering over you with his tall, broad hockey player figure. Imposing as hell. And his dominant personality only adds to the effect.

Maybe two weeks ago, you would have run, too intimidated by Sukuna's overpowering presence. But right now, he doesn't make you feel anxious. Instead, you catch yourself leaning even closer, looking up at him, barely resisting the urge to reach out and touch his bulging biceps with those sexy black bands tattooed on them.

Your lips lift in a smile, and you give him a nod and a soft,

"Ok, see you for lunch, Sukuna."

You quickly walk toward your classroom before you can do something embarrassing like really feeling him up or drooling on his stupid, too-tight shirt.

Sukuna is already waiting for you at the agreed spot, and he grins so smugly at you that, for a moment, you contemplate just walking past him to see that smirk wiped off his face. But you behave and stop in front of him, cocking your head and asking him if he is ready.

Walking next to Sukuna feels strange, but not exactly in a bad way. Your height difference is even more prominent when you walk side by side, and it does weird things to your stomach anytime you sneak a glance at him.

But the strangest thing about the whole situation is the way Sukuna walks through the hallways as if he owns the place, and everyone seems to play along. You notice that people step aside to let him pass. Some even lower their heads, like peasants bowing to their King. It's insane to see how much authority he holds and how much people respect or even fear him.

And now you got pulled into this whole thing, too, by walking next to the hockey star!

You can see curious glances getting thrown your way. Guys are checking you out as if you are suddenly interesting now that Sukuna has graced you with his company. And girls watch you through narrowed eyes as if they ask themselves why you are allowed to walk next to Sukuna, and they aren't.

The only thing that's missing is people snapping pictures like some paparazzi.

The thought makes your lips twitch, trying to hold back a laugh as you imagine pictures of you and Sukuna walking into the dining hall together getting posted on some shady Instagram account with a caption asking who the mysterious woman by Sukuna's side is. Spotted: The resident hockey heartthrob and an unknown girl. As if you are in an episode of Gossip Girl.

A soft grunt escapes your lips, and you sway slightly to the right, making Sukuna bump into you. He reaches around you reflexively, and you feel his large, warm hand land on your upper arm, steadying you.

"Careful, princess. Or do you have a thing for crashing into me?"

You huff at his cocky comment, muttering an apology as you shake his arm off, at the same time as he pulls it away again, before you fall into step beside Sukuna again.

The dining hall is bustling at this time, but you and Sukuna make it surprisingly quickly to the counter because several people make space in the waiting line after taking one glance at Sukuna. You aren't sure whether it's his status as the hockey star or the glare he sends their way.

You get your meal and follow Sukuna, who leads you to a part of the dining hall you have never been to. Technically, this is not a private section, but everyone knows this part of the dining hall is reserved for the athletes, so you never bothered trying to find a table here.

Sukuna gestures to a table at the far end, beside the window. It is surrounded by lush decorative plants and even has a comfy-looking bench.

"This is my table. Come on, princess."

You frown at him,

"You have your own table? Is this some hockey player thing?"

Sukuna huffs and a low laugh escapes his lips,

"No, it's a Sukuna thing."

He strides over to his table and sits down on one of the chairs, graciously leaving the comfy bench to you. You smile at him and sit down across from him, placing your tray on the table.

Your gaze lands on Sukuna's tray, and you raise an eyebrow at the huge plate in front of him, filled with cooked chicken breasts, rice, and a whole mountain of broccoli. Sukuna catches your gaze and smirks at you,

"What? I have to take care of my body. I'm an athlete."

"Yeah, sure, an athlete who only eats cooked chicken and rice but smokes cigarettes. Makes a lot of sense."

"It's all about the balance. Now stop being a brat, and let me explain things to you."

Sukuna grins teasingly at you, and you can't help but grin back while rolling your eyes playfully.

Sukuna opens his backpack to grab a pen and a surprisingly neat folder from which he pulls a blank sheet of paper. He slams it on the table next to his plate and writes Hockey rules – A guide for curious brats by Sukuna on the top, making you complain in mock annoyance.

You spend the next thirty minutes eating your lunch while watching Sukuna fill the sheet with his unexpectedly graceful handwriting as he explains the rules to you. He even draws a small rink and some funny little hockey players. You laugh softly when you see him add face tattoos to the figure in the center of the first line.

Occasionally, Sukuna looks at you, maroon eyes framed by beautiful, long black lashes, gazing at you with amusement and so much intensity that it makes you feel like you are the only person in this room.

You gulp, feeling flustered at having Sukuna's undivided attention. And it doesn't help that his cologne smells really sexy when he leans across the table to point at the small drawings on the paper, explaining in that sexy, low voice how hockey works.

He is a good teacher, even though his pretty eyes and the sexy tattoos on his arms and face are distracting as hell.

But the official hockey rules are pretty easy to understand. What's more complex are the unofficial rules that Sukuna refers to as The Code, which explains why the players can beat each other up without the referee interfering. It leads to an animated discussion during which you have a ton of incredulous questions, and Sukuna answers all of them with an amused grin on his tattooed face but with surprising patience.

As your lunch break is drawing to an end, you are pretty well informed about the official and unofficial rules of the beautiful sport called ice hockey.

"Thank you, Sukuna. Now I finally understand what you are doing on the ice."

He cocks his head, laughing softly before he smirks that sexy, teasing smirk at you,

"You mean apart from looking handsome as hell?"

You groan at his arrogant remark but laugh, too, before you shove the sheet of paper across the table again. But Sukuna shakes his head.

"No, keep it, princess. So you can look at it again in case you forget something. Who knows... there might be some surprise tests. Better be prepared!"

He winks at you, and you laugh, but you take the note from his large hand.

The two of you walk side by side towards the exit, where your ways part. You thank Sukuna once again for the hockey lesson, and he grins at you. One of his large hands lands on your head and ruffles your hair, making you exclaim loudly. You reach up and try to smooth your hair down again while Sukuna walks away with his hand lifted in a casual wave.

When you return to your dorm later that afternoon, Nobara is instantly at your side, as if she manifested out of thin air.

"Why didn't you tell me you were going on a date with Sukuna?"

"That wasn't a date! We just had lunch together because he wanted to explain the ice hockey rules to me..."

You trail off, shrugging helplessly, while a triumphant grin spreads over Nobara's face,

"What do you need the rules for? To go to all his games?"

"It wasn't a date, Nobara!"

You quickly leave for your room, but you can't help but grin from ear to ear, clutching the note with the hockey rules even tighter to your chest. You know it wasn't a date, but you must admit that spending your lunch break with Sukuna was surprisingly nice, and you think you can still feel the warmth of his large hand on your arm.

HE IS SO SEXY ON THE ICE AND OFF IT, TOO 😭😭 I had so much fun imagining Sukuna playing hockey! I hope you enjoyed watching him play, too, and that you enjoyed spending your lunch break with him ❤️

Thank you so much for reading Chapter 2! Comments and reblogs would be very sweet!

In Chapter 3 Reader gets to learn a bit more about our hockey star, and they have a little scene that is filled with sexual tension ;)

[theprettynosferatu]

In Case of Thoughts, Break Mind

Oh no! Oh dear. It seems you've been having a lot of thoughts lately- certainly more than you should! And thoughts are icky! Thoughts make you sad and anxious and so unhappy! But fear not! Thoughts can happen to anyone, even the most addicted edgeslut, so don't be hard on yourself!

Lucky for you, I've made this handy dandy guide to help you turn those thoughts into nice thots!

In Case of Morning Thoughts

So you just woke up, opened your eyes, aaaaand... there they are. The day ahead flashing in your mind. All the things you have to do, or should do, or... boo! Such bad thoughts, sneaking up on you like that! But don't worry, you may not be able to turn them off, but you can direct them in more pleasant directions.

It's a new day! A new chance to be slutty! A brilliant opportunity to fall to new, delicious depths! So when those bad thoughts come, think of what you can wear to look like the sex object you are. Think of all the people that will look at you and imagine themselves using every part of you for their pleasure. Think of how you'll be able to objectify yourself and get soaked knowing you'll be seen as the dumb whore you are!

Now, you might want to rub that needy cunt. Do it! Starting with an edge will keep you dumb and horny for the rest of the day. Just don't cum, lest the thoughts come back!

In Case of Work Thoughts

Sometimes you'll have to engage with this whole "job" thingy. It sucks, I know! And they don't even let you rub unless you hide in the bathroom, which is so unfair! Plus, you don't want to be fired, so you will have to do *some* amount of thinking.

If that's the case, just remember: why do you work? To have money. Why do you need money? To have things you need and want. And that's what you need to keep in mind! You work to buy slutty clothes and toys. You work to have internet to break your brain with porn. You work to have your own place to take slutty pics and rub to what strangers online tell you to do.

You work to be able to please others.

So focus on that! Remember that work sucks, but it enables you to be a depraved cunt. Plus, you can always cocktease a bit a work, if you can get away with it.

You can also make a small mistake, just so you feel like a dumb whore that needs help doing anything right. Get someone to assist you doing something you know how to do. They will think you're such a stupid slut! And isn't that delightful?

And when everything else fails, you can always dip to the bathroom for a quick edge!

In Case of College Thoughts

Oh look at you, being all smart and stuff! I get it, I get it. Studying requieres you to think. Ugh. Fiiiine. However, remember there's a card you can always play:

You are smart. And I am well aware that being smart, as a rule, totally sucks. But the fact that you are smart does give you an extra edge (so to speak): Because you are smart the fact that you want to be a mindless, stupid cumdoll is just all the more pathetic!

A dumb toy, born dumb, can kinda fall into being a giggling slut. But you? You are working for it. You are degrading your own intelligence by using it to break yourself. Shit, you might be paying to be smart while edging those very smarts away!

So yes, university is hard. But don't you think a nice person online will get so much more pleasure knowing the cunt obeying like a bitch in heat has a PHD? That the drooling girl posing for nude after nude has a master's degree? That they got a college graduate to write "worthless holes" on her own tits?

So focus on that! The higher you climb, the further you have to fall.

And I do so enjoy watching dolls fall.

In Case of Night Thoughts

Ah, night. The time for the shadow self to come out and play. But sometimes, some unfortunate souls find themselves worrying about the next day, or replaying the events of the daytime in their heads, or letting the silence of the night get to them, stirring all manner of unwanted and unpleasant thoughts.

Well... stop it!

Night time is edging time.

So whatever is in that pathetic head of yours, push it aside, start watching the strongest porn you can find, go into deep binges of reading smut and looking at captions, look at all the other good girls rubbing like you, begging to be made into useful fucktoys.

I've been quite understanding about your day thinking. But at night you have no excuse. Blast hypno files into your brain. Repeat your mantras over and over and over. Degrade yourself for others. Obey and discover new kinks you could never imagine.

And above all, edge. Edge. Edge. Never cum. Edge everywhere you can. Get your juices all over your furniture. On your stuffed toys. On your clothes. Make everything smell of your desperation. Then edge more. Go deeper. Edge to your deepest, darkest fantasies. Become a spectacle to yourself and others. Type your fucked up babbling and post it. Edge to your own perversion.

Night time is doll time. Don't waste it!

We all have thoughts. But with diligence, you'll be able to steer yours into making yourself a better toy. That's all you need, after all!

And if you feel your thoughts overwhelming you, just say to yourself:

I'm just a toy. No one cares about my thoughts. Not even me.

It wouldn't even be a lie!

[tinyshyteacup]

Tw: cussing, angst, carbohydrates

Part 1

Words of Command - Part 2

You stand just a little to the side of the elevator, arms wrapped around yourself for comfort, eyes fixed on him.

The Soldier—or—Bucky—or was it Soldat? hasn’t moved. Not more than the occasional shift of his weight, the twitch of that metal hand, the faint flick of his blue eyes every time you breathe too loudly.

Steve and Tony have stepped back to whisper, but you can feel their attention lingering.

Watching.

Judging.

Worried.

Your voice is small when you try again.

“Excuse me…Soldat?”

His gaze whips back to you. Immediate. Unyielding.

That dead-focused, razor-sharp intensity tightens your chest, but you keep going—gentle, slow, like you’re talking to a scared animal that might bolt.

Or bite.

“Do you… understand me?”

There’s no answer.

But he stares, and something in the corners of his eyes shifts—like he’s searching, trying to find something inside the words.

Like he knows he should understand.

But doesn’t know how he's supposed to respond.

You try again.

“Do you speak English?”

A pause. Then “…Handler.”

Soft. Gravelled. Russian-coated.

But he looks at you longer this time. Tilts his head ever so slightly.

Then—halting, broken “Yes ... Handler... I speak ... english.”

His voice is scratchy from disuse, like sandpaper dragged across silk.

You blink, startled. “You do speak…english ...cool. cool. cool.”

His face doesn’t change, but something flickers behind his eyes—like he knows he got something right.

Tony mutters under his breath to Steve, “Great. She’s got a new puppy. One with a kill count.”

Tony’s voice cuts the moment in two, sharp and dry.

“Alright. Fine. He stays. For now.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose. “But only under strict rules.”

He points at you. “You’re now—congratulations—his unofficial translator, wrangler, emotional support human. You don’t leave him alone with anyone unless Steve’s around."

Tony paces before continuing.

"You don’t give him any new code words. And if he starts twitching like he’s about to go full ‘Nuclear-powered meltdown’ in the kitchen, you run. Got it?”

You blink. “I—I didn’t agree to any of this—”

“You talked to him,” Tony interrupts. “He responded. That makes you the most useful person in this room. Sorry, Cap.”

Steve just nods, gaze serious. “We’ll keep him close. And monitored.”

Tony turns back to Bucky. “You break anything, you pay for it. With labor. I’ll teach you how to vacuum or something.”

“Vakum?"

Bucky repeats, confused.

He turns back to you like he’s waiting for confirmation.

You swallow. “Um… yea ...yes. You… do or we do, I dont know”

He nods, stiff but obedient. Like a soldier again. Your stomach knots.

Tony sighs. “Great. He’s trained and housebroken.”

The others drift off. Steve to talk logistics. Tony to complain to JARVIS. You’re left behind… with him.

You stand in awkward silence.

Bucky doesn’t look at you the way a man does. He looks at you the way a soldier does—alert, aware, waiting for purpose.

But something softens in his stance when you step a little closer.

“Do you… remember your name?” you ask gently.

He’s quiet for a long time. Too long. Then he shakes his head.

"Soldat.”

“Not that,” you murmur. “Your real name.”

His brows knit like it’s painful. His mouth opens—closes. Then just a almost imperceptible shake of his head.

You nod slowly. “Okay. That’s okay.”

He watches your expression like he’s trying to memorize it. Trying to learn how to interpret softness. Gentleness. Safety.

The hallway outside the security room smells faintly like ozone and recycled air. You’re wringing your fingers in front of you, stealing glances toward where Bucky—no, Soldat—sits motionless on a bench near the elevator, eyes tracking every flicker of movement like a wolf in a den of mirrors.

Steve watches him too. But not with fear.

With sorrow.

“He’s so…” you start, unsure of how to finish the sentence. “Still.”

Steve sighs, deep and rough. “That’s how he was trained. Hydra carved the hesitation out of him. Left only reaction.”

You glance at the grime and dried blood on Bucky’s face.

His hair is stringy, tangled.

His hands both metal and flesh are blackened with dirt. The metallic arm catches the fluorescent lights—dull, but still somehow menacing.

“He needs… a shower,” you say scrunching your nose slightly.

Steve looks over. “Yeah. He does.”

“I could… he could use mine”

Steve's mouth twitches into the smallest smile. “You’re braver than you look.”

You fidget. “Everyone deserves hygiene ... its a basic human right.”

Steve nods slowly. “That’s true.”

The elevator ride up to your room is silent—oppressively so.

You keep sneaking glances at him.

He doesn’t blink much. Doesn’t fidget. Just stands with his shoulders squared, metal hand curled tight at his side like he’s expecting orders or a trap.

His boots are caked in filth.

His face still bears the shadows of too many nights in the street.

You whisper, just loud enough for him to hear

“You’re safe. No one here will hurt you.”

His eyes slide to yours. Brief. Intense.

Then he nods—just once.

Your room in Stark Tower isn’t large, but it’s lived-in, Tony had allowed you to shift in when you where between apartments in the city, and he didn't seem in a hurry for you to find somewhere else.

Warm lamp light glows from the corner. There’s a little potted succulent on the windowsill. That your honestly not trying to kill.

A pile of books beside the bed. A tea mug forgotten on the nightstand. The air smells faintly of vanilla and lemon.

Bucky walks in like a soldier clearing a room. Silent steps. Eyes scanning corners. He doesn’t relax, but he stops moving once you speak.

“I thought… you could shower in here. In the bathroom. It’s clean, and there’s towels—soap—uh—just, everything.”

He stares at you blankly.

Then… something clicks.

Without hesitation, he starts pulling off his clothes.

You let out a squeak and spin around so fast you nearly trip over your own feet.

“Oh! Holy shit ...Um—okay! Privacy! You can—just—I’ll wait out here!” your voice cracks at least twice.

Behind you, clothes hit the floor. The dull thud of boots. The click of the door shutting, then the soft muffled hiss of the shower turning on.

Your face burns.

You press your hand to your chest.

There’s a naked super soldier in my shower… Oh my god… holy cow...wait ... is that arm waterproof?

A soft knock draws you from your internal spiral.

You open the door just wide enough to peek out—and there’s Steve, holding a bundle of clothes, grey sweatpants, a simple t-shirt, hoodie, and socks.

He raises a brow at your pink face. “Everything okay?”

“Fine! Totally fine! He’s… uh ...showering.” You hesitate. “He stripped. Like, immediately.”

Steve snorts softly, amused. “Yeah. That tracks.”

You take the clothes and thank him in a whisper.

He turns to leave but glances back over his shoulder. “He’s not trying to scare you.”

“I kinda figured.”

Evening hums low outside your window. The sky’s painted in the soft indigos of a city winding down. In your room, the overhead light is dimmed, replaced by the golden warmth of a bedside lamp.

The tower feels quieter now—like even its bones are holding their breath.

Bucky sits on the floor at the foot of your bed, his back straight, legs folded.

He’s wearing the clothes Steve brought. He hasn’t said much—not beyond, "Yes" "No" and “Handler”

Your starting to hate that word.

You’re sitting nearby, cross-legged on the bed, watching him with a quiet ache in your chest.

His hair is damp from the shower but already beginning to dry in unkempt waves, tangled and wild like a forgotten sea.

There’s something about it that doesn’t sit right with you—not because it’s messy, but because it wasn’t his choice.

It was neglect.

“Would you like to brush your hair?” you ask gently, holding up the comb you keep in your drawer.

He doesn’t move.

Not a flinch.

But his eyes flick to the comb. Then to your face.

Then back to the comb.

No understanding.

No hostility.

Just… frozen confusion.

You realize it a second later, It wasn’t a command.

And he doesn’t know how to process choice.

You try again, slower. “It’s not an order, Soldat. It’s something people do for comfort. To feel clean. To feel… themselves.”

He watches your mouth like he’s decoding a language that doesn’t belong to him.

One second.

Two.

Three.

Then “...You brush?” he says, the words clipped, thickly accented. His voice scratches like gravel dragged over concrete.

“No, not me. You. For you.” You hold the comb out to him carefully, showing him. “You can brush your own hair. If you want.”

His brow furrows. You don’t think he’s ever been asked if he wants anything before.

“I don’t… remember.”

That is the closest thing to a sentence he’s given you.

The words nearly break something inside you.

“Then…” you whisper, “Would it be okay if I helped? Just for now?”

A breath passes. His metal fingers twitch against the floor.

Then he nods—once.

You ease down from the bed, kneeling behind him. His broad back dwarfs you, but he stays very still. Every muscle tense, like he’s waiting for something to go wrong.

You gently set the comb on your lap and take out a small, circular compact mirror from your drawer. You flip it open and set it on the floor beside him, tilting it so he can see your hands reflected when you reach for his hair.

“It’s... so you know you’re in control. You can stop me at any time. Okay?”

“Understood, Handler.”

That word again.

The first pass of the comb is tentative. Gentle. You start from the ends, working up in soft, practiced movements. His hair snags in places—clumps still matted from god only knows how much neglect. You’re careful. Patient. Like you’re brushing knots of memory, not just strands.

His breath is steady. But not relaxed. It’s like he doesn’t know how to be during this.

When your fingertips graze his scalp, he flinches—but doesn’t pull away.

In the mirror, you watch his eyes track your every movement. His jaw is clenched, but not from pain. From effort. He’s fighting an instinct you can’t see, but you feel its tremble under your palms.

And then—almost imperceptibly—his shoulders lower. Just a little.

After several minutes, you offer him the compact.

“Here. Want to hold it?”

He stares at it like it’s some delicate alien thing. You nudge it gently into his flesh hand.

He holds it like it might shatter under the wrong pressure. Turns it. Sees himself.

He frowns.

Not in disgust.

Not quite.

More like... he’s seeing a ghost in the reflection and doesn’t know what to do with him.

Then he looks at you.

And in that single look—there is confusion.

And something almost like wonder.

“You… don’t have to do this,” he murmurs. “it's not protocol.”

“I don't mind,” you say, voice thick with emotion. Despite the smile you offer him.

The Tower’s kitchen is lively at this hour—typical, not at all surprising.

Clint is hunched over a bowl of cereal, watching something on a tablet, probably a terrible reality show. Natasha lounges sideways on one of the bar stools, legs crossed at the knee, flipping through a glossy black dossier with quiet intent.

Sam is leaning against the fridge, arguing with Steve about something that sounds like football but escalates fast enough to involve several gestures and a thrown grape.

Then there’s Tony.

Leaning across the counter in a charcoal t-shirt, sipping an espresso as if he invented the machine.

Because well ... he did.

You step into the room, barefoot and slipping between them with muttered "Excuse me's", sleeves pushed up to your elbows and hair a little tousled from where you’d tied it up lazily.

You hover near the fridge, mumbling something about making pasta. No one really pays you much mind—

Until they notice him.

He appears in the doorway like a shadow that forgot to blend in.

The Winter Soldier.

Bucky.

He doesn’t speak, doesn’t announce himself, doesn’t stomp. He just is—standing in the doorframe, silent and still, eyes flicking from person to person like he’s assessing threats. Or calculating exits.

You glance back at him, offering a smile, and he responds not with words, but motion.

He follows you.

Not close enough to touch. Just behind. Always behind. Like a ghost dog, cautious but fiercely loyal. His bare feet make no sound against the polished floors. He stands when you stand, moves when you move.

You’re pouring water into a pot when you hear Clint whisper

“Is that who I think it is?”

Natasha doesn’t answer. But she puts her file down. That’s answer enough.

Tony's voice cuts through the tension like a scalpel made of sarcasm.

“Well well, look who’s lurking in my kitchen like a Soviet-themed Dracula.”

Bucky doesn’t flinch. His gaze flicks to Tony, then to the coffee machine, then back to you. The moment doesn’t register as an insult—because to him, it’s just noise.

“Didn’t realize the Asset came with a tracking chip,” Tony adds, lifting his espresso.

You turn slightly, cheeks flushed, fumbling the box of pasta.

“He’s just… hanging out” you say over your shoulder. “It’s okay.”

Tony blinks. “Yeah, I see that. Very Terminator-chic. Adorable. Kind of unsettling.”

Sam raises an eyebrow. “You sure he’s not about to snap a fork in half?”

At that, Bucky shifts. Just a little. Not threatening. But present. A statement.

Natasha leans in, narrowing her eyes. “He’s not looking at any of us. Just her.”

You glance back at him. “Soldat?”

His head turns toward you instantly. Eyes locked. Waiting.

“…You hungry?”

There’s a pause. He doesn’t nod. But his lips part, like he’s trying to answer in a language he forgot.

“Da,” he rasps.

Tony claps once. “Fantastic. Our newly adopted murder machine has a preference for carbs. That’s going in the file.”

As the pasta boils and the kitchen returns to a fragile rhythm, Bucky remains near you. Close, but never hovering too much. Watching your hands. Taking in the way you hum under your breath. Your calm presence seems to dull the sharp edges in him.

When the steam rises and you lean over the pot, he shifts slightly to keep you in sight.

Tony catches it and, for once, doesn’t make a joke.

Instead, he murmurs to Steve, “It’s like some sorta twilight zone imprinting. Is that normal?”

Steve shrugs. “Nothing about this is normal.”

You hum softly to yourself, cheeks warm from the stove’s heat as you serve up a big bowl of sundried tomato pasta with crumbly cheese and herbs.

You’ve made enough for everyone—even Tony, who pretends to be above “home-cooked carbs” until you set a plate down in front of him.

“Looks like someone’s gunning for our hearts,” Sam jokes, taking a forkful. “I mean—she made pasta, and the Asset isn’t killing anyone. That’s two wins.”

You smile timidly, brushing hair behind your ear. “It’s nothing, really. I just thought... maybe it would help.”

Bucky sits rigid at the end of the bar, back straight, legs parted just slightly in a posture that screams tactical readiness more than dinner guest. His eyes never leave you.

He eats slowly, methodically. Like every bite is a foreign ritual he’s relearning. His spoon clenched tight in his metal hand. His expression unreadable.

The others are trying.

They talk softly.

Laugh a little.

Tony throws in occasional dry commentary to cut the tension.

You start to relax.

Sam tosses a crumpled napkin at Clint, who bats it away with a grin.

“Real mature,” he mutters.

Then Sam turns to you. He points his fork in your direction, mock-annoyed. “And you—you better not be trying to replace me as the favorite cook.”

You laugh, turning away to get another serving. Sam stands up dramatically, crossing over to nudge your shoulder with exaggerated playfulness. “I mean, who told you you could just waltz in here and become the team’s comfort cook?”

It’s lighthearted.

But it’s too much.

Too close.

Too sudden.

There’s no warning.

One second, Sam is jokingly reaching out to gently nudge your arm—

The next, metal slams against flesh with a sickening crack.

Sam is thrown backwards across the kitchen, crashing into a barstool that shatters beneath him.

Gasps. A plate clatters to the floor. Someone shouts—Natasha, maybe—but it’s drowned out by the low, inhuman growl that echoes from the center of the chaos.

The Winter Soldier stands between you and the others.

His body is coiled, one foot slid slightly in front of the other in a combat stance. Left arm bent, metal fist clenched so tightly the grooves in his knuckles press white-hot into the soft light of the room.

His right arm—the flesh one—is stretched in front of you, shielding.

His face is a mask of violence.

Emotionless.

Focused.

Predatory.

He sees a threat.

He’s eliminating it.

“Soldat!” Steve yells, standing up. “Stand down—!”

Tony’s hand flies to his chest, activating the arc reactor with a sharp whine. “You have got to be kidding me—”

Sam groans from the floor, coughing. “I’m okay—Jesus—he’s got an arm like a truck—”

But Bucky doesn’t flinch.

Doesn’t hear them.

Only you.

He turns to check you—slowly, like he’s scanning for wounds. Eyes scanning your arms, your shoulders, your face.

Then he turns back toward the others, every muscle wound taut. A silent protector. A guard dog whose chain has snapped.

Clint inches forward. “Uh—he’s not gonna stop, is he?”

Tony’s voice is sharp now. “Tell him to stand down. He’s keyed in on you, not us. You have to do it.”

You blink. Your breath has caught in your chest.

Then slowly, trembling, you step forward, touching the inside of Bucky’s flesh arm—just above the wrist.

“Soldat,” you whisper, “It’s okay. I’m not hurt. I’m okay.”

His head tilts slightly. You see something shift.

“I need you to stop,” you say, your voice cracking. “Stand down.”

He blinks.

The tension bleeds out of his shoulders like breath leaving a body. He straightens slightly, fists unclenching. The tremble in his chest dies down.

His eyes drop to the floor.

"Understood, Handler,”

[lyvhie]

★ ˙ ̟ ─── . “i like it”.

donghyuck x reader

| summary | who would have thought that being evasive about something important would lead to Donghyuck losing you? | cw | fluff, slight jaemin x reader, jealousy, maybe angst if u squint, pet names. | a/n | changing this again 😇 someday i'll stop 😔 ALSO, my sweet wife @peterm4rker will be writing an awesome fic for jaemin following the events of this one, so stay tuned 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

Contrary to what everyone believed, you and Haechan weren’t officially lovers but existed in a complicated, undefined space. Friends who occasionally kissed, shared intimate nights, and blurred the lines between friendship and something more. Hyuck was content with this arrangement, or at least, that’s what he told himself.

Things with you have been this way since the last year of high school, when you were each other's first kiss. Back then, you were both a bit clueless and hadn’t had much experience with other people, so you suggested it might be nice, and less awkward, to practice with each other since you were friends.

After that, this dynamic continued over the years. If you were bored or just in the mood, you’d make out until your mouths were sore. But that was it—nothing exclusive, nothing complicated, no feelings were involved. These were the unspoken rules between you two. Perhaps rules isn’t the right word, but it was a silent agreement you adhered to.

Both you and Hyuck had your fair share of flings, yet, amusingly enough, you always ended up coming back to each other. And he liked that. There was something undeniably comforting about it, the way it felt so effortless, so familiar, like slipping into your favorite sweater on a cold day. It was simple, warm, and safe. It wasn’t complicated, it was home.

Over time, being with you felt so right that he no longer desired anyone else. Everything about your dynamic was easy and, most importantly, simple. It provided a safe haven for his fears, a sanctuary from the expectations he dreaded. Commitment was a word that stirred anxiety in him, a promise he wasn’t sure he could keep. The thought of fully opening up, of risking his heart, scared him.

So, he clung to the simplicity of what you had, where no questions were asked, and no demands were made. It was his way of staying close while keeping his fears at bay, holding on to you without the risk of losing himself.

Haechan believed that as satisfied as he was with you, you felt the same about him. In his mind, you both fit perfectly into the arrangement you had. After all, why change something that worked so well? To him, everything was simple, easy, and just the way it should be.

However, things weren't as black and white for you as they were for Haechan. Over the years, you had hoped that what you shared would evolve into something deeper, something more defined. You craved a sense of permanence, a relationship that was established, tangible, and secure. What started as a casual connection had grown into something much more significant for you, and the lack of clarity began to weigh.

While Donghyuck found comfort in the ambiguity, you found yourself longing for certainty. The undefined boundaries that once felt liberating now felt confining.

It was no secret how fond you were of him. After all, you had been together for a long time, sharing each other's highs and lows, witnessing the best and worst moments side by side. The bond you had was undeniable, and with time, you felt it was only natural to express your feelings. You thought it would be okay to bring up the idea of something more, to gently nudge the relationship in a new direction.

So, you began to hint at your desires in subtle ways, slipping them into conversations, testing the waters at every suitable opportunity. You teased him, dropping little clues, hoping he'd pick up on your intentions and reveal his own. Each time, you watched closely, searching for any sign that he might feel the same way.

You'd casually ask questions about where he thought you both would be in the future, framing it as mere "curiosity." If he ever saw you both settling down, or if he thought things might change someday. Each question was laced with hope, a subtle push toward something more concrete.

But Donghyuck deflected. He'd laugh it off, turn the conversation back to something lighthearted, or give vague answers that neither confirmed nor denied anything.

And yes, he wasn't oblivious, far from it. He noticed your hints, understood the implications, but chose to play along as if he didn't. He pretended not to see the deeper meaning behind your words, it was easier for him to feign ignorance than to confront the truth, to face the possibility that things might change in ways he wasn't ready to handle.

Plus, he couldn't quite understand why you suddenly wanted to change everything. Why complicate something that, in his eyes, was already working perfectly? There were no conflicts, no major issues between you. Why bother putting a label on your relationship when things were smooth as they were?

Donghyuck thought that if he just waited it out, the dust would settle, and you'd drop the topic. He figured things would naturally return to how they were—cuddle sessions, late-night calls, movie nights, making out and, most importantly, no difficult questions about the future. It was a cycle he found comfort in, and he was sure you'd come back to it too.

For a while, he was right. You did stop bringing up the subject, and he felt a wave of relief. Everything seemed to return to normal, the familiar rhythm of your relationship restored. He thought he had successfully navigated the storm, and things were back on track.

But the peace didn’t last long.

At first, he assumed you were just caught up with life—work, family, college—the usual exhausting demands of adulthood. It made sense that you'd take longer to respond to his texts, miss his calls, or cancel your usual meetups at each other's places. He reasoned that it was temporary, just a busy spell you were going through.

However, as time went on, the excuses didn't quite add up. The distance between you grew before he could even fully realize it. Sure, you still talked, but only through messages, as you had stopped answering his calls. Even those conversations felt different-strange, tense, lacking the warmth they once had.

It was as if you were slowly becoming strangers, the easy familiarity between you fading away. An unspoken abyss seemed to be widening, pulling you further apart with each passing day.

He couldn't understand. Was it something he did? Did he say something wrong? Did he forget an important date? No, that couldn't be it-you wouldn't be acting this way if it were something so simple. Was it about the way he avoided your questions? But he was sure he had handled that well, giving you answers that, in his mind, should have put your concerns to rest.

Donghyuck replayed every conversation in his head, searching for a clue, a moment where things might have gone wrong. He thought he had done everything right, keeping things easy and light, steering clear of anything that might cause friction. Yet, despite his efforts, the growing distance between you suggested otherwise, leaving him confused and increasingly anxious about what might have caused the shift.

Once again, he decided to leave things as they were. You might just need some time for yourself, he thought. He just needed to be patient. That was all.

So, he tried to stay calm, holding onto the hope that this was just a phase, a temporary distance that would eventually close. He reassured himself that you weren't slipping away, that he wasn't... losing you. But deep down, a quiet fear lingered, growing harder to ignore with each passing day.

At some point, it became too much for him to bear. He missed you-terribly. The ache of your absence was overwhelming, and he couldn't shake the feeling that he needed to make things right, whatever it took. He decided he would go to your place and apologize, even if he wasn't entirely sure what he had done wrong. He just knew he had to fix it.

In his mind, he planned everything meticulously. He would bring your favorite food, a small peace offering to show he cared. He would listen, really listen, to what you had to say, without deflecting or brushing things off. And then, he would apologize, sincerely, for anything he had done to hurt or upset you. He was ready to do whatever it took to mend the rift between you, to bring things back to the way they were.

And that's when things, already bad, started to get worse. As planned, he went to your favorite restaurant to pick up the peace offering. But that's when he saw you. His heart did that familiar happy dance it always did whenever you were around, but it soon came to an abrupt stop. Was he thrilled to see you after what felt like an eternity? Absolutely. What didn't sit well with him was what he was seeing.

Who was the guy you were with? Was this the reason behind the headaches, the exhaustion, the countless canceled plans? The realization hit him like a punch to the gut. Not only had you lied to him, but you were with someone he didn't even know. And worse—it was clearly a date. The way you were dressed, more put-together than usual, was a dead giveaway. This wasn't just a casual meetup; it was something more.

He noticed the way you smiled, the soft giggles that escaped your lips, the way you played with the end of your hair, something you did when you were feeling shy or nervous. He saw the subtle scrunch of your nose, a telltale sign of your genuine amusement, something he had always adored. It was everything you used to do with him, now directed toward someone else.

The sight of you laughing, seemingly carefree, with another person shattered the hope he had been clinging to, leaving him standing there, stunned and, dare he say, heartbroken. A wave of emotions crashed over him. Confusion, betrayal, an ache he couldn't ignore. But above all, there was jealousy.

It gnawed at him, a bitter, burning sensation that he couldn't shake as he watched you with someone else, sharing moments that once belonged to him and only him*.*

He knew what he had said about not being exclusive, that it was just for the sake of avoiding the labels and formalities of the situation. But this—this wasn't supposed to happen. Not when you had once casually told him that you didn't need to date anyone else when he was by your side.

He remembered the words he'd spoken about not wanting to change things, about not needing to turn what you had into a conventional romantic relationship. But even so, this—this moment—was never supposed to come.

You had felt a pair of eyes burning into the soul for a while now. You couldn't help but glance around, trying to figure out where it was coming from. But there was nothing, just a person leaving the restaurant in quick steps.

You blinked a couple of times. Was it just you, or did the back of that person look strangely familiar?

"Hey, everything okay?" Jaemin's concerned voice pulled you back, and you turned your attention to him.

Had you been missing Haechan so much that you were imagining things?

"Yeah, sorry," you said quickly, giving him a small, awkward smile. "I thought I saw someone I knew, don't worry," you waved it off, hoping he wouldn't ask more.

Jaemin smiled softly, his concern still lingering in his eyes, but he didn't push further. "Okay, if you say so," he replied gently, his voice calm and understanding, but he could tell something was off.

Here was the person who had been easing your worries these past few days. You and Jaemin had been friends for a few months now, ever since you first met at a museum. He had offered to guide you through the exhibits, sharing fascinating stories behind the artworks. At first, you assumed he worked there, only to find out later that he was just another visitor like you.

You still remembered how you had worried about taking up his time, only for him to laugh and wave off your concerns, saying it had been a fun walk. That shared experience led to more conversations, and by the end of the visit, you had exchanged numbers. What started as a casual acquaintance quickly blossomed into a comfortable friendship, one that had become a welcome refuge during the tumultuous times with Haechan.

Things with Donghyuck were... a mess, to say the least. It hadn't been as bad when you were still unaware of your true feelings for him. But once you recognized the depth of your emotions, everything became harder to bear. The weight of unspoken words and unmet desires grew heavier each day.

It only worsened when he confirmed, in his subtle yet unmistakable way, that you and he would remain in the same undefined space for the foreseeable future. The realization that nothing would change, that your relationship would stay stagnant, left you feeling trapped in a cycle of longing and frustration.

You sure liked Donghyuck, more than you ever thought you could like someone. But you couldn't keep burying yourself deeper into this hole of uncertainties. That's why, when Jaemin asked you out for the first time, you didn't refuse.

You had noticed his interest in you, and you thought, why not give it a chance? It felt like a welcome change from the storm of emotions that had been weighing you down.

And you were right. Jaemin was caring, attentive, and you shared so much in common. With him, you didn't feel the constant need to second-guess everything or wonder where you stood. He was always direct and sincere, there was no hidden meaning or unanswered questions, offering a sense of clarity that you had been craving, a simplicity that felt refreshing. It was… less intense, less complicated than it was with Haechan.

Jaemin tilted his head slightly, watching you with that warm, curious gaze he always had. “You sure you’re okay? You seem a little distracted tonight,” he asked softly, his concern evident in his tone.

You smiled, feeling a little guilty for letting your thoughts wander. “I’m fine, really. I guess I’m just a bit tired,” you said, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “But I’m having a great time with you.”

His lips curved into a gentle smile. “I’m glad to hear that. I was worried I was boring you,” he teased, a playful glint in his eyes.

“Not at all. You could probably talk about the most random thing, and I’d still be entertained,” you said, chuckling.

He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “Oh, so you’re saying I have that kind of charm, huh?”

You rolled your eyes, laughing. “Don’t let it get to your head, Jaemin,” he laughed too, and for a moment, the tension you'd been feeling earlier seemed to fade away.

“Well, we've spent the whole day together, and it's already," he checked his wristwatch, "real late. I think it's time to take you home, princess," Jaemin said with a teasing smile, his tone light yet affectionate.

"As much as I want to say the opposite, I think you're right," you replied, letting out a small laugh. "I'd hate to turn into a pumpkin or something."

He chuckled, standing up and offering you his hand. "Don't worry, I'd make sure to bring you back to the ball before that happens."

You rolled your eyes at his playful tone but took his hand anyway, letting him guide you out of the restaurant. The evening air was cool and refreshing, and Jaemin stayed close to your side, his presence steady and comforting.

When you reached his car, he opened the door for you with a small bow, earning a laugh from you. "A true gentleman," you teased, sliding into the passenger seat. "Only the best for you," he quipped, winking before closing the door and walking around to the driver's side.

The drive home was filled with easy conversation, the kind that made time seem to slip away. Every now and then, you'd catch him glancing at you out of the corner of his eye, a soft smile tugging at his lips as if he were just happy to have you there.

“There you are,” Jaemin said as he parked in front of your house. “Safe and sound,” he added, turning to you with a warm smile.

“Aw, it’s over already?” you said dramatically, a teasing pout on your lips.

“Don’t worry,” he replied, leaning slightly closer to you, his voice dropping into that playful tone that always made you smile. “I have an idea for what we can do next week. If you’re interested, of course.”

“Oh, another date plan so soon?” you leaned closer as well, a small smile tugging at your lips.

“Mhm,” he hummed, his eyes sparkling mischievously. “But it’s a surprise, so don’t even think about asking.”

“Then you shouldn’t have told me,” you said, rolling your eyes playfully. “Now I’m curious.”

Jaemin chuckled softly, his hand reaching up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers lingered for a moment, just barely grazing your cheek. “I’ll make the wait worth it,” he said softly, his gaze flickering down to your lips.

The air between you shifted slightly, growing more intimate as he leaned closer and closer, his breath almost mingling with yours, his lips just a whisper away from yours and—

Knock! Knock! Knock!

“How long are you planning to stay there?”

You turned your head abruptly, your heart skipping a beat at the familiar voice. There stood Haechan, arms crossed, an annoyed expression on his face as he stared into the car.

Your chest tightened at the sight of him, but you forced yourself to play it cool, letting out a small, frustrated sigh.

Jaemin pulled back, his brow slightly raised as he glanced at Haechan, then back at you. The sudden interruption had shattered the moment.

“Friend of yours?” Jaemin asked, his voice calm but curious, as his eyes searched yours for an answer.

“Yeah, something like that," you replied, laughing awkwardly. "Remember Haechan?"

"Oh, Mr. Gray Area," Jaemin said with a knowing smirk.

“Yep, that’s him,” you said, trying to play it off with a soft chuckle before letting out a small sigh. Quickly, you unbuckled your seatbelt and reached for the door handle. “By the way, don’t leave yet. You forgot something at my house last time, I’ll take it for you real quick.”

“Alright, pretty, take your time.”

Jaemin smiled, leaning back in his seat as his gaze followed you. Meanwhile, Haechan’s eyes were also fixed on you, his arms crossed as he stood waiting. When you stopped in front of him, his brows rose expectantly.

“What are you doing here?” you whispered, trying to keep your tone neutral, though a hint of frustration slipped through.

Haechan shrugged, his expression unreadable. “You were having so many headaches, I wanted to check if you were okay,” he said, the lie rolling off his tongue smoothly.

His gaze flickered to Jaemin, still sitting in the car, who offered him a brief, polite wave. Haechan forced a tight-lipped smile, biting back the urge to roll his eyes. “And apparently, you are,” he added, his voice dropping slightly, laced with sarcasm. “Didn't know you had a thing for bulked-up gym rats. Should I start hitting the gym too, or is he the exception?"

You rolled your eyes, biting back a retort as Jaemin's curious gaze lingered from the car. "Haechan, please—"

"What?" he interrupted, leaning in slightly with a mock-innocent expression. "I just wanna make sure I'm keeping up with your new preferences.”

You lifted a hand to stop him from talking before he could say anything more, and he pressed his lips together in silence right away, though the grumpy expression on his face was impossible to miss.

"Just wait and behave," you said firmly, giving him a pointed look before turning to head inside your house.

Haechan huffed at your words but didn't argue. The moment you disappeared through the door, though, he turned back to Jaemin's car, his gaze narrowing slightly. After a brief pause, he walked closer, his shoes scuffing against the pavement, and knocked on the car window, waiting for Jaemin to lower it.

He leaned in slightly, resting his arms on the edge of the window so he could get a proper look at Jaemin.

Damn. He's hot. That, Haechan couldn't deny. What a handsome man.

Fuck.

He hoped Jaemin had a terrible personality because, honestly, it was unfair for someone to look that good and be a decent person too.

“Yes? Can I help you?” Jaemin asked, a polite smile adorning his face as his brow lifted slightly at the sudden interaction.

Haechan tilted his head, his gaze traveling up and down Jaemin’s figure, taking in every detail as if analyzing him.

“Jaemin, right?” Haechan said back, his lips curving into something between a smirk and a challenge. “Just wanted to see who’s been stealing my girl’s attention from me these days.”

Jaemin let out a small chuckle, tilting his head slightly. “Your girl? Funny, it didn’t seem that way since we started going out.”

Haechan scoffed, but he masked it with a shrug. “Well, she just likes making new friends,” he said casually, though the tightness in his jaw betrayed him.

So this was it, huh? Your sudden distance, the unanswered calls, the excuses—it was all because you’d been going on little dates with this guy. Haechan felt something unpleasant settle in his chest, but he pushed it down, keeping his expression cool.

Jaemin hummed, unfazed by Haechan’s words. His fingers tapped lazily against the steering wheel as he looked at him with mild amusement. “Is that what you tell yourself?”

Haechan let out a dry chuckle, tilting his head. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Jaemin shrugged, a knowing glint in his eyes. “Just saying… You seem a little too interested in her new friends for someone who didn’t want to put a label on things.”

Haechan’s smirk faltered for just a second, but he quickly recovered. “I just like knowing who she spends time with,” he said, his tone light, but there was an edge to it.

Jaemin chuckled, shaking his head. “Right. Well, now you know.” He leaned back in his seat, drumming his fingers against the car door. “Anything else, or can I go back to waiting for her without the interrogation?”

Haechan clicked his tongue, stuffing his hands in his pockets. He wanted to say something, anything, to wipe that amused expression off Jaemin’s face. But before he could come up with a comeback, the front door opened, and you stepped out, holding a jacket in your hands.

As soon as you saw them still talking, you narrowed your eyes. “Is everything okay?” you asked, eyeing Haechan suspiciously.

Jaemin grinned. “Depends on your definition of okay.”

Haechan just huffed, looking away. “Just having a chat,” he muttered.

You sighed, already exhausted. “I don’t even want to know,” you mumbled, handing Jaemin the jacket. “Here, you left this last time.”

Jaemin took it with a grateful smile. “Thanks, pretty.” He shot you a wink, completely ignoring Haechan’s glare.

Haechan clicked his tongue again, stuffing his hands deeper into his pockets. “Great. Now that he got what he came for, he can go,” he said, voice dripping with fake sweetness.

Jaemin raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue. “I was leaving anyway,” he said, flashing you one last smile before rolling up his window. “I’ll text you later.”

You smiled and waved as you watched Jaemin’s car disappear down the street. But the moment he was out of sight, your expression shifted, and you turned to Haechan with a sigh.

“I think you can go too,” you said, your voice even, though you weren’t exactly pleased to see him there. Even if—against your better judgment—your heart twisted in something dangerously close to happiness after so long without seeing him.

“What? Are you mad because I interrupted your little ‘date’?” Haechan scoffed, using his fingers to make exaggerated air quotes.

You rolled your eyes, letting out an exasperated sigh as you moved to walk past him, unwilling to entertain whatever mood he was in. But before you could get too far, he was quick to step in front of you, his hands gently grabbing your shoulders to stop you.

“Okay, okay! I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he said quickly, his voice softer this time, though the usual playful edge was still there. “I just wanna talk. Please?”

His puppy eyes had you folding faster than you’d like to admit. With a sigh, you cleared your throat and gently pushed his hands away, walking past him to your front door. You held it open without a word, and he didn’t waste a second following you inside.

It had only been a few weeks, but as Haechan stepped in, it felt like years since he’d last been here. Everything was the same—the familiar scent of your home, the way your shoes were neatly placed by the door, the dim lighting that made the space feel warm.

He watched as you leaned back against the couch, arms crossed, silently waiting for him to speak. The weight of your gaze made him hesitate, unsure of how to start the conversation, or if he even knew what he wanted to say in the first place.

His throat felt dry as he swallowed hard, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets while his eyes wandered around the room. “You redecorated?” he asked, his voice casual, or at least, trying to sound like it.

You raised an eyebrow. “No?”

“Ah,” he let out a small, awkward chuckle, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Guess it just feels different then.”

“Come on, Haechan,” you sighed, your voice steady but tired. “Just tell me what you’re doing here.”

He frowned slightly, the awkwardness that had filled the room earlier quickly fading as he stepped closer to you. The usual ease in his movements returned as he moved toward the couch.

“What do you mean, ‘what am I doing here’? I missed you,” he said, his voice sincere, genuine as he placed his hands on either side of the couch, leaning in just enough to be close, but still keeping a safe distance, his gaze never leaving yours.

You looked at him, his words hitting you more than you wanted to admit, but you forced yourself to act unimpressed. “Yeah? You came all the way here just to say that? You could’ve just texted me.”

“I did,” he shot back, his voice a little sharper now. “But you left me on read

“Then you should’ve taken the hint that I didn’t miss you.”

He let out a short laugh, though it was laced with bitterness. “Well, I noticed. You’ve been busy, huh? Going out on dates with that guy and all.” His eyes narrowed slightly, the jealousy evident in his voice. “How long have you two been meeting?”

“Why would that be any of your business?”

“I mean, it would be good to know if you started things with him while you were with me,” he said, his voice laced with something you couldn't quite decipher—hurt? Resentment? “Or if it was after you started acting like I don’t exist.”

“With you?” You let out a small, dry laugh. “Donghyuck, we were never together. You made that very clear.”

Haechan’s jaw clenched at your words. He opened his mouth to argue, but nothing came out. Because you were right. He had been the one who insisted on keeping things the way they were. No labels. No commitments. No messy emotions.

But now that he was faced with the reality of what that actually meant—you moving on, finding someone else—he hated it.

“That’s not—” He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “That’s not fair.”

You scoffed, crossing your arms. “Oh, now it’s not fair?” You shook your head. “It was fair when I was waiting around for you to maybe want something more? When I kept dropping hints, hoping you’d stop pretending you didn’t see them?”

He pressed his lips together, his gaze dropping for a moment. He had seen them. Every single one. And he had ignored them. Every single one.

“Jaemin actually wants to be with me,” you continued, voice softer now but no less firm. “He doesn’t make me feel like I have to prove I’m worth it.”

Haechan’s chest tightened at that. “And I did?”

You didn’t answer right away. You just looked at him, and somehow, that was worse.

He hadn't realized that was how you felt. Sure, he knew he had been difficult, he never denied that, but he never thought he made you feel like you weren’t enough. He thought that by keeping things the way they were, he was protecting what you had, not slowly pushing you away.

“Listen, I…” He took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair as he tried to gather his thoughts. “I know I’m an idiot. I know I messed up, and I know I wasn’t being fair to you. I knew what you wanted, and instead of being honest, I chose to pretend I didn’t see it, because I was too scared to do anything about it.”

Your eyebrows lifted slightly in surprise. It wasn’t often that Haechan was this honest. He had always been open with you, yes, but when it came to his own emotions, his fears, his insecurities, he usually buried them under jokes, teasing, and playful distractions. But now, he was just laying it out there, no filter, no deflection.

You swallowed, arms still crossed, but your stance had softened. “…And what exactly were you so scared of?”

He swallowed hard, guilt creeping into his expression. “I didn’t want to lose you,” he admitted, voice quieter now. “I thought if we just kept things the way they were, you’d stay. That I wouldn’t have to face all the scary, complicated parts of actually being with someone.”

“So what?” still, you couldn’t let yourself be swayed so easily. Not when it had taken so much for you to finally step away. “You were scared, so that justifies everything? That makes it okay?”

“No,” he said quickly, shaking his head. “It doesn’t. And I’m not saying it does.” He ran a frustrated hand over his face before meeting your eyes again. “I just—I need you to know that it wasn’t because you weren’t enough. It was never that. It was me being a coward.”

By now, you were already softening toward him, and he could tell. His hands found your face, cupping it gently.

“I’m really sorry,” he murmured. “I swear I never meant to make you feel that way or push you away. Being without you these past days... it made me think about everything. And I already knew this, but you have no idea how much you mean to me. I realized all those doubts didn’t matter, because, God, it’s you. It’s always been you. I can’t imagine spending my life with anyone else.”

His eyes stayed locked on yours, his thumbs tracing soft circles on your cheeks. The way he was looking at you… if not love, then something dangerously close to it.

“Please, give me a chance,” he pleaded. “I know I let you down, and I know words aren’t enough to make up for everything I put you through. But I swear, I won’t mess this up again. I’ll show you—show you just how much I want you, how much you mean to me, how much…"

He took a shaky breath, his grip on your face tightening just slightly, as if afraid you’d slip away.

"How much I need you," he finally whispered. "Not just for now, not just because I miss you, but because I don’t know how to be without you anymore. Because every moment without you felt wrong, and I never want to feel that again. Just… let me prove it to you. Please."

You were speechless at his sudden confession. His eyes held the same desperate sincerity as his voice, and you could feel how genuine he was, more than you’d ever seen before. You were sure that, if you wanted, he’d drop to his knees and beg for your forgiveness. Your heart was pounding so violently, you almost felt like it might burst from your chest, just to show him how deeply he affected you without even trying.

You wanted to speak, but you couldn’t as he kept going, probably babbling at this point. “I’ll do whatever it takes to prove it to you. You want a real relationship? Let’s do it. You want commitment? I’ll give it to you. Hell, you want me to write it in the sky? Tattoo it on my forehead? I’ll—”

You interrupted him by crashing your lips against his.

His eyes widened in surprise, his breath hitching, but it took only a second for him to snap back to reality. He kissed you back just as desperately, as if he had been waiting for this moment forever. One hand slid to the small of your back, pulling you flush against him, while the other cradled the back of your neck, fingers tangling into your hair as he poured every ounce of emotion into the kiss.

You could feel the way he melted against you, how his desperation seeped into the kiss, as if he was trying to pour all the words he couldn't say into it. His grip on you tightened, like he was scared you'd slip away if he didn’t hold on tight enough.

When you finally pulled away, breathless, his lips chased yours, unwilling to let the moment end. “Does that mean…?” he whispered, eyes searching yours, still uncertain.

You exhaled, resting your forehead against his. “It means… you have a lot to make up for.”

A small, breathy chuckle left his lips, but there was no cockiness, no playfulness—just sheer relief. “I will,” he promised, his hands cradling your face as if you were the most precious thing in the world.

His lips met yours once again, this time more gently, more lovingly. He honestly felt like the luckiest person in the world right now.

He pulled away just slightly, his breath still mingling with yours. “Tell me… you and that Jaeman guy—”

“It’s Jaemin,” you corrected.

“Whatever,” he mumbled, brushing it off. “You and Minjae… how far did you go?” His brows lifted slightly, his thumb grazing your lower lip.

You exhaled a soft laugh. “Is it really important?”

“Very much,” he murmured, tilting his head as his fingers trailed down your jaw. “I need to erase every trace of him off you.”

You rolled your eyes, trying, and failing, to hide the small smile creeping up on your lips. “We didn’t do much more than a few pecks…” you admitted.

Haechan groaned dramatically, as if your words physically pained him. “A few pecks?” he repeated, shaking his head. “Disgusting. Unacceptable.”

Before you could roll your eyes again, he was on you, pressing kiss after kiss against your lips, barely giving you a chance to breathe. Each one was soft yet desperate, as if he were really trying to erase every trace of Jaemin’s touch, replacing every memory with his own.

You let out a breathless laugh, trying to push him away, but he was relentless. He peppered kisses along your cheeks, your chin, your nose, your forehead—everywhere he could reach.

“Okay, stop!” you giggled, placing your hand over his mouth to halt his attack. “I get it already.”

His eyes sparkled with mischief as he kissed your palm, his lips lingering against your skin.

“I'm making sure there's no room left for Jaeman.”

Jaemin glanced at his phone screen, checking the time for what felt like the hundredth time. His foot tapped against the floor, his eyes flickering to the entrance every time the bell chimed, expecting—no, hoping—to finally see the person he had been so anxiously waiting for: you.

Don’t get him wrong, he was always excited to see you. But today, that excitement was laced with unease. That feeling had settled in his chest the moment you called him, asking to meet. Usually, just the thought of seeing you would have him grinning like an idiot, but something in your tone during that call had put him on edge. There was a distance in your voice, something careful, something that made his nerves spike.

It didn’t help that it had been days since the last time you properly talked or spent time together. That alone was enough to make him feel uneasy. And now, as he sat there waiting, he couldn’t shake the feeling that this meeting wouldn’t be the kind he was hoping for.

He shook his head slightly, trying to push away the nagging thoughts. Maybe he was just overthinking. Maybe you just wanted to see him because you missed him, just like he missed you. And honestly? That was reason enough for him.

The bell rang again, and this time, when he looked up, there you were. His heart did that little flip it always did whenever he saw you, no matter how much he tried to play it cool. He knew you hadn’t known each other for that long, your time together still fresh and new, but there was something about you that made it feel different.

He called your name and waved to catch your attention, his smile appearing almost instantly as soon as he saw yours. You hurried toward the table, slipping into the seat across from him.

"I'm sorry, did I make you wait too long?" you asked, slightly out of breath. "Something came up, and I couldn't help but be late."

That something had a name and a surname—Lee Donghyuck.

The very person who insisted on accompanying you and personally driving you to the café as soon as you mentioned needing to see Jaemin. Not only did he take the longest route possible, driving at a frustratingly slow pace, but he also kept you trapped in the car, stealing kisses and whining about why you had to see Jaemin at all.

You almost had to beg him not to follow you inside the café, and it took a mix of stern scolding and a few more stolen kisses before you were finally free from his relentless affection.

Jaemin chuckled softly, shaking his head and dismissing your apology with a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, I didn’t wait that long,” he said, his words making you exhale in relief. “Is everything okay? We haven’t really talked much these past few days.”

You smiled sheepishly. “Oh, yes, sorry. It’s just… a lot’s happened, and I didn’t really have the time to catch up with anyone,” you explained with a light chuckle.

Jaemin’s expression softened, and a hint of relief washed over him. “I’m glad it’s just that,” he said, his tone light. “I thought maybe I did something wrong, messed things up between us.”

You couldn’t help but feel a small pang in your chest at his words. He really did care, of course.

“No, nothing like that. It’s just… things have been a bit complicated lately,” you hesitated for a moment, then decided to be honest. “And I just needed some space to think about… us.”

Jaemin's smile faltered just slightly as he noticed the way you fidgeted with the napkin, your lips pressing into a thin line. The way you avoided his gaze for a moment, only to return to meet his eyes, told him everything he needed to know. He was right—this was going to be an unpleasant conversation.

He remained silent, his gaze steady and attentive, nodding slowly as he listened carefully to every word you said. He could tell that you had thought this through, giving you the space you needed to speak without feeling rushed.

“Look, I really enjoyed our time together, it was honestly so much fun, and you’re such a sweet person, but…” You paused for a brief moment, your mind drifting to the little gremlin waiting for you in the car outside the cafe. “I have someone I care deeply about, despite everything that happened. I want to give it a real shot, because… that’s what I’ve been waiting for. And I really thought I was ready to make things work with you, but I can’t do that when my heart belongs to another person.”

“… I see.” His words were simple, but they carried a certain weight. There was no anger, no resentment, just quiet understanding and a hint of sadness. “I guess I can’t really argue with that, can I?”

You watched as he leaned back in his seat, exhaling a slow breath. His expression was composed, but the way his fingers tapped idly against the table gave him away. He looked… upset. Maybe even hurt. You knew you were doing the right thing, but it didn’t make it any easier.

“It’s not that I don’t like you,” you blurted out, feeling the need to clarify. “You are amazing, Jaemin, and you deserve someone just as good as you are. And I’m not—”

“It’s fine,” he interrupted gently, offering you a small chuckle—one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He had noticed the way you were starting to fidget, your nervousness creeping in. “I don’t want you to feel like you’re doing something wrong. I appreciate your honesty. I can’t say I’m happy about it, but… I kind of saw this coming.”

You frowned slightly. “What do you mean?”

Jaemin tilted his head, studying you for a moment before giving you a knowing smile. “It’s Haechan, isn’t it? The person you were just talking about.”

You nodded sheepishly. Was it really that obvious?

He let out another small chuckle, shaking his head. “Yeah… I had a feeling. Especially after our last encounter,” he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck before meeting your gaze again. “Honestly? I wish things were different. I really do. But I get it,” his voice softened. “When someone already has your heart, there’s not much room left for anyone else, is there?”

You had prepared yourself for anger, maybe even disappointment, but this quiet acceptance made it so much harder.

“I really am sorry,” you whispered.

He offered you a small, bittersweet smile. “Don’t be. Just… be happy, alright?” He reached across the table and gave your hand a small squeeze before pulling away. “And if he ever messes up, I’ll be right here to say ‘I told you so,’” he smirked.

You let out a soft chuckle, shaking your head. “Noted.” Then, hesitating for a moment, you asked, “Would it be stupid of me to ask if we can still be friends?”

Jaemin blinked, then huffed a small laugh. “No, of course not,” he said, his voice softer now. “I’d love that.”

You felt a weight lift off your shoulders at his words, though the guilt still lingered. You had expected this conversation to go much worse—maybe some resentment, maybe some bitterness—but Jaemin was handling it with the same grace and kindness he had always shown you.

“Thank you,” you said sincerely. “For understanding. For everything, really.”

Jaemin leaned back, a fond but slightly teasing smile playing on his lips. “Well, I can’t say I’m thrilled about the outcome, but I meant what I said. I want you to be happy.” He tilted his head, eyes twinkling just a little. “Even if it’s with him.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “You’re making it sound like I chose the worst possible person.”

Jaemin shrugged. “I don’t hate the guy. But let’s just say he’s not exactly my first pick for you.”

“Fair enough,” you admitted, biting back another chuckle.

A comfortable silence settled between you two, and you felt grateful that, despite everything, Jaemin was still Jaemin—kind, understanding, and someone you truly wanted to keep in your life.

Donghyuck jolted in his seat when he glanced at the rearview mirror and saw you saying goodbye to his number one enemy. He clicked his tongue, muttering something under his breath, before quickly looking away as you slid into the car. He tried to act nonchalant, though the urge to have his hands all over you was undeniable.

“So?” He raised his brows, his voice thick with curiosity as he glanced at your smiling face. His mind cursed Jaemin a thousand times over, though he tried to hide it behind a playful demeanor.

“Well, he was very lovely the whole time,” you said, pulling your seatbelt across your body. “And we agreed to stay friends.”

The words hit him like a breath of fresh air, and he let out a relieved sigh, not bothering to hide it this time. For a moment there, he thought you might change your mind, and he’d be left in misery forever.

"Good," he muttered, his grip on the wheel loosening, his gaze softening as he glanced over at you. “So, I behaved as you said and I patiently waited for you here, do I deserve my reward now?”

You shot him a teasing smile, leaning back in your seat. “Oh? You think you deserve a reward just for waiting?”

He pouted, though it only made him look more endearing. “Come on, you can’t leave me hanging like this. I’ve been a perfect gentleman,” he said, his voice playful yet sincere.

You couldn't help but roll your eyes, but the smile that tugged at your lips betrayed you. “Alright, alright. You did alright, I guess.”

By now, he was already leaning closer, his breath brushing against your lips. Without missing a beat, you cupped his face in your hands and pulled him in for a deep, searing kiss. Haechan couldn't help but smile into it, feeling his heart race.

He must admit, he really like it this way.

↝ taglist: @yizhrt, @sinisxtea, @peterm4rker.

[minimomoe]

How to Train your Demon

Pairing: trueform! Sukuna x Fem Reader

Summary: Life has all kinds of wins and losses. You don't know which category to put your new demon husband in though.

Tags: MDNI!, red string of fate trope, true form sukuna, librarian reader, soul mates, reincarnation, accidental summoning, love at first sight (buti it's one-sided (until it's not)), Sukuna is demon, but he's v much in love, smut and stuff eventually i guess....

Song inspo: E.V.O.L- MARINA

Part I. II. III. IV. V. VI. VII. VIII. IX. X. XI. XII. XIII. (completed!)

Rule no. 1: Don't show fear

It was a mistake. A comical, nonsensical, monumental mistake, but a mistake nonetheless. You didn’t mean to create a soul tie with a demon . All you did was read a torn up book from the library. Was it an occult book about spiritual practices in the Japanese Heian era? Yes… but it doesn’t warrant an eldritch horror being your life partner. 

Actually, according to the demon, you didn’t create the soul tie, he has been waiting for you all his life. Cute, but it didn’t make the situation any better. Damn your natural inclination to catch the old and withered items thrown into the donation boxes of the library you worked at. It just pained your heart to see pages falling out of books, and the ominous leather bound grimoire was no exception. 

Restoration was one of your favorite things to do. Knowledge is always worth saving, no matter how old it may be. Books were your life. You found yourself lost in them, enchanted, terrified, taught. You had no genre as your favorite. Everything was welcomed, nothing was off limits. You knew a little bit of every culture, every study, every block buster fantasy. If you could, you’d build a machine that would let you live inside of a book and experience the scene yourself. 

Technically you could ask your all powerful demon to do that, but you didn’t want to deal with him right now.

You still weren’t all too sure on how it happened. First you were glueing the pages back to the spine of the book, running your fingers over the deckled edges when you opened a page that was stuck together. You carefully peeled it apart, a task that took ten minutes to do to avoid any additional tears, and opened up to a page that was different from the rest. The words were written in a rush, the strokes of the characters dragging much longer than it should. You only knew a tiny bit of Japanese (but much more of Latin, Russian, Yoruba, and French from having just an abundance of time on your hands), but this time you could make out some of the words. 

You muttered the ones you knew for sure, used context clues for the ones that were beyond reading. It didn’t make a lick of sense to you. You closed the book with a clamp so that the glue would set and decided to come back to it tomorrow since it was closing time. There was no rush of wind, flash of lightning, or eerie sounds. Just you and the screech of a thousand cicadas as soon as you stepped outside to walk to your car. A normal Thursday night.

Until it wasn’t. 

You shuffled around your house with a new arc from your favorite novelist in one hand, a glass of wine in the other, and the largest frame of glasses known to man perched on your nose. Jazz music quietly spilled out from your hidden speakers, preventing the house from getting a little too quiet as you lived alone with your cat. It was a total boring cliche, you were well aware, but you were happy with your life. You had friends who you trusted, a great relationship with your parents, and just recently got out of a relationship with someone who you didn’t hate, you just grew apart. There was no chaotic, negative energy to feast on in your household and you liked it that way. 

You thought you heard your cat clawing on the door when you were snuggled away in your bed. You flipped the covers over and went to let her in to snuggle with you. 

“I’m so sorry, Cleo. I thought you were already in here with me,” you said, scooping her up from the floor. The ragdoll cat begrudgingly accepted your kisses of apology. You set her down on the bed, watching her find a good spot to curl up in and smiled. You went to reach for your wine glass you knew that you set on your nightstand, but there was nothing in the glass. You were sure that you didn’t finish it. You paced yourself well enough for it to last until at least chapter five, but there wasn’t a drop of alcohol left. 

“The quality of sake has diminished over the years, I see.” 

The voice came from all around the room but also deep in your chest. Cleo hissed, making a run for it out of your door, leaving you wildly spinning around for the intruder. You lunged for the heavy duty taser you kept in your nightstand, but when you turned around there was nobody there.

“What is that?” 

The bone chilling voice spoke again. Was it one person or many, you couldn’t tell. 

“I— I have a weapon!” You tried to steady your voice but it was hopeless. You were terrified. There was nobody there but you could feel a heavy presence in the room. 

“You call that a weapon?” The voice laughed. “The only weapon my wife needs is me.”

The statement made you falter. “Wife? Who are you?”

You turned around once again and nearly jumped out of your skin. A man, or a close approximation of one, sat on your bed flicking through your book. It was impossible, but he had twice as many limbs on his top half than he should, and double the amount of eyes. They were bright and red when scanning through your novel. “What language is this?” 

“F-french,” you whispered. You were dreaming. You had to be. That was the only way this could be happening. Still, dream or not, you had to protect yourself. You pressed your taser and watched the prongs leap out and touch his bare skin. He looked unbothered, merely looking down at his stomach where the taser landed and moved his arm to reveal a mouth on his abdomen. A tongue flopped out and licked the prongs, dragging it back to the mouth and the taser was slowly dragged out of your hands and into the mouth. You watched in horror as the hard plastic was crushed to pieces in front of your very eyes. 

“Useless weapon,” he reiterated, this time looking directly at you. “Don’t insult me again.” 

“Pl—please don’t hurt me.” There was nothing left to do but beg. You already punched yourself till blood was drawn. This was not a dream, you were looking at a real, evil monster who didn’t know French and ate high voltage tasers. 

He rose from your bed. You crawled away as much as you could until you bumped into a wall and still you wanted to move through it. He stood before you, looking over your trembling frame and called out for you. 

“Rise.” 

You rose, unsure if you really had a choice in the matter. One of his many hands cupped the side of your face. A clawed thumb brushed away the tear that fell on your cheek.

“Why do you weep?”

“Um… well… I don’t really know who you are,” you said honestly. You were still pinned to the wall, unable to flee and he took up your entire frame of sight. He nodded, removing his hand from your face and raising it in the air. You thought he was going to strike you and you flinched. When you opened your eyes again he was multiple steps away from you, still raising his palm.

“Time has faded your memory of me. You are my wife, and I am your husband. The string of fate proves that we are mates.” 

He stated it so matter of factly. You are my wife, and I am your husband. My wife, your husband. Mates. Forget dreaming, you have officially lost your mind. 

“I don’t… remember agreeing to that,” you said carefully. The words “husband” and “wife” bounced in your head in a crazy echo. You slumped to the floor, your body suddenly very tired. A laugh bubbled up your throat and escaped your mouth. So much for your boring life.

“Do you not feel the connection? The string is tied from my last finger to yours.” You looked at your hand, not seeing any supposed string and shook your head. 

He frowned. “You do not agree to it. It has been decided.” He crouched in front of you, inspecting your face earnestly. One side of his face was strange, not normal skin, instead inhuman, bumpy and shades darker. 

“You look the same after all this time,” he murmured. “I will make you remember.” 

“Let’s not do that,” you said quickly. “I don’t even know your name and I am not married. I’m a librarian and I have a cat. And I have never, ever met you before.”

“I am known as Sukuna, among other names,” he responded to one of your distresses. “What title is a librarian?”

This time you laughed. An deranged laugh, loud and unbecoming. Sukuna waited as impatiently as he could for you to be finished, but you kept on cackling. Once out of breath, you wiped the tears out of your eyes and leaned against the wall. It finally dawned on you how this happened. The drying grimoire that was locked up in the library was responsible for this strange turn of events.

“It’s not a title, at least, not in the way you’re thinking. It’s my job, one that I love very much. Was I ever a common worker before?”

Sukuna bristled at the thought. Even his tummy mouth frowned. “You were a queen. You wanted nothing because you had everything.”

“Interesting,” you mused. “I’m so not your girl.”

“I’m not interested in little girls.”

“Kudos to you. I think I’m going to sleep now. I’m clearly much more tired than I think I am.”

“We have things to discuss,” Sukuna protested, but you already slipped under the sheets. If I force myself to sleep he will go away, you thought. 

Instead you felt the dip of the other side of your bed and flung your eyes open. Sukuna was in bed, with you, staring your down with his four eyes. He was much too close for your liking. 

You looked at him wildly. “What are you doing?” 

“Resting with you.” 

“Get out of my bed!”

“Are you no longer tired?” 

“I am tired. Extremely tired, but that doesn’t mean I want you on my bed! Stay on the floor or something!”

Sukuna rolled his eyes at you and turned on his back, his arms crossed in two sets on his chest. 

“You were always particular with your sleeping habits. I see that hasn’t changed either.”

“Stop acting like you know me!”

Sukuna got off the bed to sit on the floor like you asked. The only problem is that you could feel his gaze prickling your skin, making it impossible to ignore him. You didn’t feel bad about kicking him out, he certainly didn’t have a pout on his face because of it, but something needed to be done. 

“Face the door instead of me,” you mumbled. 

His eyes twitched. “Commanding me like footmen,” he grumbled, yet he still turned away. You wondered if his obedience had something to do with the book. Sukuna had the aura of someone who doesn’t listen to anyone, yet he’s been more than understanding with you. Maybe you really were his wife. Maybe you were having a very elaborate and maladaptive daydream. You thought of “maybe’s” until the sun came up, still staring at the back of his pink, spiky hair. 

Your alarm chirped for you to get ready for work. You groaned. You didn’t get a second of sleep. You were too afraid of being eaten by the demon you accidentally summoned. You reached out to shut off the ringing clock as quietly as you could, but Sukuna touched it first. 

“How strange,” he said, turning the clock around in his hand. He brought it up to his ear, shook his head, tapped the glass. Then he crushed it. It was made of plastic, but the shards bent and broke to the floor left his hand unscratched. You gaped at the mess he made as he let the remains fall to the floor. “It was making a wretched sound.”

“Yeah…” you sighed. “It was pretty noisy.”

You had to find out how to get rid of him. Fast. 

Thanks for reading loves!! lemme know what ya think xx

Part: I. II. III. IV. V. VI. VII. VIII. IX. X. XI. XII. XIII.

M.list || Twitter || Ao3

[snail-day]

"It's All Your Fault, Isn't It?"

Yan! SatoSugu x Reader Sum: You've had the chances, why didn't you take them. In the end you'll always just lose the purest of love. Last part of: Can my friend join?, This is Love, Right? ** Can be read as standalone fics** TW: Yandere Behaviors (Obsession, Manipulation, etc), Death of Child Character, Blood, Toxic Relationship Dynamics, Depression, Dubcon, Lactation, Pregnancy themes, SatoSugu, Angst No Comfort. MDNI WC: 7.7k

A/n: I got supperrr stuck in the loop of editing, so I am just gonna post it, I feel like rereading it after the tenth time. I almost just pressed delete lol. :) enjoy!

It’s all your fault, isn’t it?

You did this to yourself. You should have walked away when the chance was there, when the door was still open, even just a crack. You should have screamed, fought, run—anything to reclaim a sliver of your freedom.

But you didn’t.

You stayed.

Was it the security? The comfort of knowing you’d never struggle to pay bills or scramble to find work? Was it the way Satoru promised, over and over, that you’d never go unloved, never feel the ache of loneliness again?

Or was it something darker? Something you couldn’t quite admit to yourself?

You told yourself it was love. You told yourself you were lucky. How many women could say they had someone who’d give them the world? Someone who, with a flick of his wrist, could bend the rules of life itself to ensure you had everything you could ever need?

So, you stayed.

Even before Suguru became part of the equation, you stayed. You even stayed when Satoru would come home in the dead of night, his footsteps a faint echo through the silent halls before his hands found you. You’d stir from your sleep as he pulled your panties down with barely a word, his breath hot against your neck.

There was no tenderness in those moments, no love—just need. A raw, consuming need he claimed you had to fulfill. And you let him, didn’t you? You let him push inside you with barely any preparation, your body yielding to him because he knew it so well.

Satoru knew the places that made you crumble, the spots where your body quivered, the way your breath hitched when his fingers grazed just right. He knew you better than you knew yourself, didn’t he? His movements were deliberate, practiced, the wet noises filling the room a cruel testament to how thoroughly he’d mastered you.

You’d given him permission. He reminded you of that often, didn’t he? That you’d said yes. That he worked so hard, carried so much, and that this was his right. That he had needs only you could meet.

And you understood. You always understood.

After all, he was the strongest, wasn’t he?

So, you let him use you.

Like a doll.

You’d lay there, staring at the ceiling, as he buried himself to the hilt one last time, his loud groans of release cutting through the stillness. A pathetic little whimper followed, muffled by the darkness, as he spilled himself inside you. And then, as if the act meant nothing, he pressed a sweet kiss to your temple, murmured something soft and indistinct, and rolled over to his side of the bed.

You stayed there, silent and unmoving, the lingering heat of his body beside you doing nothing to warm the cold ache between your thighs.

That’s when the thought would creep in. A sick, unwelcome whisper:

You didn’t even climax.

You hated yourself for thinking it. For letting it matter.

But still, you stayed.

Was it fear that held you there? Or was it hope—a desperate, foolish hope that one-day things would change? That one day, every day would feel like those rare, sweet moments when he pressed teasing kisses against your lips before dragging you out to get sweets. That he’d touch you with love, with the tenderness he so effortlessly showed to others—when he wasn’t breaking them apart piece by piece with that same teasing grin.

And now, looking back, you can’t decide what’s worse: that you didn’t leave when you had the chance…

Or that part of you still doesn’t want to.

You stayed, even when the small arguments started. The little spats about wanting him to open up more, to share pieces of his life with you, the pieces he always kept hidden. Perhaps it was selfish—maybe even naïve—but you wanted to know why he loved you.

Really, truly loved you.

But you never asked.

You saved that question, tucking it away deep into your heart, right alongside the cracks that had already started forming. You told yourself it wasn’t the right time. That maybe he wasn’t ready. That you shouldn’t push. Instead, you focused on the good times, clinging to them like lifelines.

Because they were good, weren’t they?

What other guy would give you the world like Satoru did? What other guy would bring you flowers every week—a different color each time, sometimes traditional, sometimes exotic, but always beautiful? What other guy would shower you with affection so openly, so shamelessly, pressing kisses to your skin, nuzzling into the crook of your neck as though you were the only thing keeping him grounded?

Satoru had told you he loved you. And maybe he did—in a way that wasn’t entirely built on desire, the need to keep you within his grasp, or the insatiable craving to hold you close for the rest of your days.

That’s what you told yourself, anyway.

That’s why you stayed.

Even when Suguru came into the picture—when those dark, calculating eyes lingered on you just a moment too long when his quiet, honeyed words wove themselves into your life like threads binding you to a tapestry you couldn’t escape—you stayed.

You had the choice, didn’t you? You could have said no. You could have walked away.

But you didn’t.

You stayed, and now there was no one else to blame.

So, truly, it is all your fault.

However, your heart’s at fault too, isn’t it? For leaning into Suguru's touches, craving his warmth, even when you knew deep down that he was a cruel and awful man. A man who veiled his darkness in sweetness, wrapping it in gentle words and tender caresses that made you doubt your own truths. He was a master of contradiction—soft hands and sharp edges, honeyed lies hiding an iron grip.

You could have left.

You could have said no to the whole relationship, shut the door before it ever opened.

But you didn’t.

You stayed.

You told yourself that maybe this was the best you could hope for, the best kind of love someone like you deserved. Because it was love, wasn’t it? They loved you. Even if it was conditional. Even if you had to give and give, piece after piece of yourself, just to receive a sliver in return.

Love comes in many forms, after all. And this was love.

Or so you continued to convince yourself.

This is what you deserve. That you should have listened to your gut, back when every touch felt too heavy, too lingering, too much. Back when their words seemed to wrap around you like chains instead of promises. You should have left before the walls around you closed in. Before you realized that leaving wasn’t just difficult—it was dangerous.

You had your chances, didn’t you? If only you’d taken them.

You knew Satoru would tear the world apart to find you if you ran. He’d find you, no matter where you went, no matter how far. But… would he really?

If you’d left early enough, maybe it wouldn’t have been like this. Maybe it would have been nothing more than a bad breakup, a lesson in heartbreak you’d recover from in time. Maybe, if you’d left after Suguru’s return, Satoru would have leaned on him instead of spiraling further into obsession.

But you didn’t leave.

You stayed.

Such a stupid, stupid girl.

And yet…

It was never just about them, was it?

Because you craved love too, just as much as they did. You wanted it desperately—so much that you ignored the warnings in your heart, the creeping dread in your chest. You wanted to be loved, to feel wanted, to belong to someone in a way that was absolute, undeniable, and unshakable.

And that’s exactly what they gave you.

But love like that—it came with a cost.

And you paid for it in silence, in submission, in the pieces of yourself you’d never get back.

So now, here you are, locked away in the beautiful Gojo estate. A place so grand it should feel like a palace, yet it suffocates you like a gilded cage. Every corner gleams with wealth and power, every surface reflects the life you’re supposed to be grateful for.

The maids don’t meet your eyes.

To them, you aren’t Satoru’s wife. You aren’t a partner. You’re something lesser.

A pet.

Because you aren’t the one ensuring the estate runs smoothly while Satoru is away on his endless missions. That responsibility doesn’t fall to you—it belongs to Suguru, doesn’t it? He’s the one in charge. He holds the reins, commanding the household with a quiet authority that leaves no room for question.

And you?

You remain.

The pet. The wife. The child-bearer.

Barefoot and pregnant, with a swollen belly to show for it, you shuffle through the estate like a ghost. Your body aches, weighed down not just by the child growing inside you, but by the chains of a life you can’t escape.

Suguru sees to it that the estate runs like a well-oiled machine, all while maintaining his title as the second strongest. His responsibilities never seem to tire him, never seem to dull his devotion. If anything, they only make him more overbearing.

He adores pampering you.

He drapes you in the softest blankets, ensuring you’re always warm. He dresses you in the finest clothes, silks and satins that cling to your growing belly, showcasing the proof of your usefulness. He loves the way your independence has been stripped away, loves the way you’ve been forced to rely on him for everything.

When did you become so dependent?

When did you start accepting his affection like a loyal dog, start leaning into the way his rough, calloused hands would trace the curve of your stomach? When did you start craving the way he’d gaze up at you with that lovesick smile, his voice low and honeyed as he murmured sweet words about the future?

“I hope the baby looks like Satoru,” he’d say, his eyes dark and soft as they met yours. Then, after a pause, “I hope it’s a girl.”

The words always made your chest tighten, made your stomach twist.

You know he must miss the twins.

It’s not just the weight of their absence—it’s the way he’s filled that void with this child, this unborn life. You can see it in the way he touches you, the way he watches you. He’s more excited about this pregnancy than you are.

And that’s the cruelest part, isn’t it?

Because to him, this isn’t just a child. It’s a legacy. A purpose.

To you?

It’s another chain.

And yet, you hate how loving he is. How he’s always there to hold your hair back when you’re bent over, heaving in the dead of night. How his large, warm hands find every knot in your aching limbs, massaging away the tension with a tenderness that makes your heartache.

It’s cruel, how gentle he can be. How he disarms you with care just when you think you might muster the strength to fight back.

There’s a constant mantra in your mind, a desperate hope that the baby won’t resemble either of them.

Because the thought of seeing their features reflected back at you stirs a fear too heavy to bear.

The thought of seeing their features reflected in those tiny, innocent eyes is terrifying. It brings the fear that every decision will feel like a mistake, that allowing any of this to happen will become an unbearable regret.

You tell yourself you hope, but it’s hard to ignore the possibility, isn’t it?

What if the child inherits Satoru’s piercing blue eyes—so crystalline they seem otherworldly, glowing even in the faintest light? The same eyes that burn and freeze you all at once, stripping you bare and exposing every secret, every hidden part of you.

Even his grin—boyish, sharp, too wide—lingers in your mind. A grin that could charm and cut in the same breath, leaving you unsure whether to lean closer or step away. What if that grin appeared on a smaller, softer face, just as devastating?

Or worse—what if the baby inherits Suguru’s gaze?

Those dark, soulful eyes that pull you in like the tide, gentle at first glance, inviting even, but hiding endless, churning storms beneath their surface. Eyes that promise escape is not an option. Unlike Satoru’s, Suguru’s smiles are quieter, softer—but no less dangerous. His smiles feel deliberate, like they’re slipping past every defense you didn’t even know you had.

Would the baby inherit Satoru’s arrogance? Suguru’s patience?

Or worse—would the child inherit both of their possessiveness?

The thought makes your skin crawl.

But the fear doesn’t end there.

Because it’s not just about the baby, is it?

It’s about you.

About how they’ve already carved themselves so deeply into your soul that you can’t even imagine a world without them. You hate that truth. Hate the way it festers inside you, a bitter root growing into every part of you.

You hate Satoru’s smirk when he strides into the estate after a mission, brushing off the exhaustion and blood as if it’s nothing. How he towers over you, his white hair catching the light in a way that seems almost ethereal, his fingers tilting your chin up with a mock tenderness that makes your breath catch.

You hate how he always knows exactly what to say to make you crumble, his voice dipping into that teasing lilt that makes your heart flutter in spite of yourself.

And Suguru—oh, you hate how he lingers. How his touch lingers. His hands are always warm, always deliberate, tracing paths across your skin as if he’s claiming you, piece by piece. Every stroke of his fingers feels like a silent reminder that you are his, that you belong to him. His voice, low and soothing, is a cruel contradiction—a balm against your nerves, even when his words are laced with quiet threats you pretend not to hear.

You hate them.

You hate the way they consume you, the way they’ve woven themselves into the fabric of your life so tightly that even your thoughts feel tangled in their presence.

And yet, as you sit in the vast, lonely expanse of the Gojo estate, the weight of your belly grounding you, you know the truth.

You’re not just afraid of the baby looking like them.

You’re afraid of what that child will mean.

Because if they look like Satoru, with his arrogance, his fire, his brilliance, how will you deny the pride swelling in your chest? How will you stop yourself from feeling that flicker of awe, even when you know you shouldn’t?

And if they look like Suguru, with his quiet strength, his steadfast devotion, how will you deny the love? How will you stop yourself from melting beneath those familiar eyes, from imagining them crinkling with joy or softening with affection?

You can’t.

And that's horrifying.

You won’t be able to ignore how Satoru has changed, how he’s become softer, more attentive in ways that make it harder to hold onto your resentment. How he lingers closer to you than he ever did before, as if the mere distance between you might undo something fragile inside him.

How he’s started resting his head in your lap as you sit together in the serene gardens, his white hair catching the sunlight like spun silk, almost ethereal. His long lashes cast soft shadows over his cheeks as his half-lidded gaze flickers up to meet yours, brimming with a tenderness you don’t know how to process.

He murmurs lazy words of affection, his voice low and warm, the kind of sweetness that drips like honey and sticks to your skin. His fingers trace absentminded circles on your thighs, soft patterns that feel far too intimate, far too easy.

And you hate how much you crave it.

You hate the way his presence soothes something raw inside you, even when you tell yourself it shouldn’t.

You hate how he’s begun helping you with the small, intimate things you wish you could keep to yourself. Like the unbearable ache in your swollen breasts, the pressure building so much it leaves you trembling, whimpering in pain. How he doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t even ask.

The way Satoru's lips wrap around you with loud, deliberate suckles, the sound echoing in the quiet as he eases the pressure with almost clinical precision. He doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t falter. His hands grip your hips to steady you, his thumbs pressing reassuring circles into your skin.

You hate the sound.

You hate the warmth of his breath against your skin, the way it prickles, a constant reminder of just how close he always is—too close.

When he’s finished, he pulls back with a satisfied hum, his lips brushing against your collarbone with a lingering kiss. His voice low, almost tender, as he murmurs, “I love this version of you.”

The words settle into you like stones. His lips, still soft from the milk, press against yours, and the faint sweetness lingers, almost cloying. Satoru murmurs more words—gentle, saccharine things that would feel kind if not for the way his hands start to roam as they wrap around your waist.

“How nurturing you’ve become,” he whispers, his tone carrying a dangerous sort of reverence.

That’s what he loves. That’s what he says.

And the way he looks at you when he says it—those bright blue eyes glinting with something dark, something that sinks its claws into you—makes your skin crawl. Because you know exactly what he means.

He doesn’t love the nurturing in and of itself. He loves how it ties you to him. How it binds you to this role, this life, this carefully constructed world where you are his and only his.

The version of you he loves is one that has no room for defiance, no space for resistance—only the space to give, to sacrifice, to bend under the weight of his love.

And that’s what makes it so much worse.

Because even as you hate it, even as your stomach churns and your skin prickles, there’s a part of you that leans into his touch. A part of you that longs for the softness, for the fleeting moments when it feels like love instead of control.

And you hate yourself for that, too

Because you know how it goes. You’ve seen it now. Lived it.

How one pregnancy ends and another begins.

The cycle repeated itself after your firstborn, didn’t it? Barely a year after you gave birth, they had you pregnant again. You didn’t even have time to recover, to heal, before they decided it was time for another.

But they love you, don’t they?

Satoru’s affection is impossible to miss—the way he grins at you, almost childlike, as he cups your face with hands that can destroy worlds but hold you as though you’re the most delicate thing he’s ever touched. How he showers you with gifts, flowers in every shade imaginable, rare treasures that sparkle as brightly as his endless energy.

How many times has he told you, in his low, teasing voice, “You’re my world, you know that? I could do anything, have anything—but none of it would matter without you.”

It sounds like love, doesn’t it?

And Suguru—Suguru loves you too, in his quiet, steady way. You see it in the way he watches you, his dark eyes softening when you enter the room, the weight of his gaze feels suffocating. He’s the one who stays calm when you cry, wrapping his arms around you and murmuring, “Shh, it’s okay. I’m here. You don’t have to carry this alone.”

And you believe him, don’t you?

They love you. That’s why they insist on keeping you close. Why Satoru kisses your forehead every morning, why Suguru runs his fingers through your hair as he whispers sweet nothings you’re too exhausted to resist. That’s why they ensure you’re taken care of, why they never let you lift a finger, why they promise they’ll always protect you.

“You don’t have to do anything,” Satoru once said, kissing your swollen belly as he grinned up at you. “Just stay here with us. That’s all we need.”

“It’s not just for us,” Suguru added, his voice softer, more measured. “It’s for you too. We want you to feel safe. Loved.”

And in moments like that, when the weight of their words settles in your chest like a lullaby, you almost believe them.

You tell yourself that no one else would love you this much. No one else would care for you so completely, so unconditionally—because this is love, isn’t it?

The maids barely acknowledged your struggles. Their gazes were cold, dismissive, even as your body ached and your mind screamed for reprieve. They would gently pry your child from your arms with hushed whispers.

“You need more rest,” they’d say, their voices soft but unyielding. “We’ll take care of them. Don’t worry.”

And what could you do? You’d watch helplessly as they carried your baby away, leaving you empty-handed, empty-hearted. As if you were nothing more than a vessel, an incubator meant to bear and birth heirs for the Gojo family.

Your firstborn was a boy.

A son.

An heir.

He looked just like Satoru.

Those piercing blue eyes stared back at you from his tiny, cherubic face, wide and curious, already holding a glint of brilliance and confidence you couldn’t deny. His hair was the same stark white, impossibly soft beneath your trembling fingers as you brushed it back, memorizing every perfect strand. Even the little smirk he gave in his sleep mirrored Satoru’s—a playful, almost mocking curl at the corners of his mouth that made your heart ache with emotions you couldn’t unravel.

You loved him.

You hated that you loved him.

And when Suguru would cradle him in his arms, his dark eyes soft and filled with a devotion that seemed to crack the carefully constructed walls around your heart, you couldn’t deny the warmth blooming in your chest. He’d whisper promises to the child—vows of protection and guidance.

When Satoru would swoop in, effortlessly spinning the boy around with an energy that filled the room with light, the sound of your son’s uncontrollable laughter echoing like music, that warmth would return. It would swell in your chest, suffocating and undeniable, a cruel reminder of the chains you wore willingly and unwillingly all at once.

This is what they wanted, wasn’t it?

This is what they’d planned all along.

And now, with another child growing inside you, you realize something that terrifies you more than anything else.

You’re not sure if you stayed because you had no choice.

Or because you wanted to.

Again, it’s all your fault.

For trying to run, again.

For thinking, just for a moment, that you could escape them.

You were far too pregnant. Belly too far swollen, body heavy and slow, every step a reminder of how deeply tethered you were to this vast estate. But the thought wouldn’t leave your mind. The desperate hope of freedom burned too brightly, too wildly, even as your body betrayed you.

Even as you were dragged back to that sickening place, back to the people that you convinced yourself—desperately, foolishly—that this was love.

You’d screamed at Suguru, the words spilling out like a torrent you couldn’t stop. You told him the child was yours too, that you had the right to hold them, to sleep in the same room, to be more than a vessel. Your voice cracked, raw with frustration and desperation, as you hurled your defiance at him.

You remember the way his gaze darkened.

He didn’t yell. He didn’t snap. That wasn’t Suguru’s way.

Instead, he stepped closer, his movements slow, calculated, as though he were approaching a frightened animal. He tilted his head, his expression calm, disarming, the warmth in his dark eyes a stark contrast to the undercurrent of control they held.

“You’re upset,” he murmured, his voice soft, soothing. His hand reached out to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing away the tears streaking your face. “And that’s okay. You’ve been through so much, haven’t you?”

The quiet warmth in Suguru's voice made it hard to breathe, made the frustration clawing at your throat turn to something else—something like shame.

“You need to calm down,” he continued, a warm calloused hand slipping down to cradle the side of your neck, his thumb pressing lightly against your pulse. “I don’t want you to hurt yourself. I don’t want you to hurt us.”

His words lingered, heavy with meaning, as he pulled you closer, his forehead pressing against yours.

“I know it’s hard,” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. “But I love you. We love you. Everything we do—everything I do—is for you.”

You wanted to push him away, to scream that it wasn’t love, that this wasn’t love. But as his arms wrapped around you, strong and unyielding, pulling you into his embrace as though Suguru could shield you from the very world they had trapped you in.

“You’re everything to me,” he murmured, soft lips brushing your temple. “Don’t you see that? You don’t need to run. You don’t need to be afraid. I’ll take care of you. I’ll always take care of you.”

A voice that was so tender, so achingly sincere, that it almost broke you. Suguru's words were enough to extinguish the fire of defiance burning in your chest, to leave you standing there, trembling and helpless in his arms.

The maids saw it, didn’t they? They whispered about you, their quiet voices slipping through the halls like ghosts. They called you ungrateful. Sick. They said you didn’t understand how fortunate you were.

“You should be enjoying this,” they murmured, their words laced with thinly veiled judgment. “No responsibilities, no struggles. A carefree life. Everything is taken care of for you. What more could you want?”

What more could you want?

No choices.

That’s what they meant, wasn’t it? No choices. No freedom. No you.

Was something wrong with you? Maybe.

Maybe there was something wrong with wanting more. For wanting to feel like a person again, instead of a vessel, a doll, a beautifully dressed incubator meant to carry their legacy.

It really is all your fault, isn’t it?

Because when labor came, it dragged you into hell.

Thirty-three grueling hours. Each contraction ripped through your body like a punishment, an unrelenting reminder of every fleeting thought of rebellion, of every moment you dared to imagine a life beyond them.

The emergency c-section was chaos—a flurry of hands, sterile lights, and voices rising above the incessant ringing in your ears. You were losing too much blood. Fever scorched your skin, your body trembling as the edges of the world blurred, your thoughts slipping between consciousness and darkness.

You couldn’t make sense of what was happening. You weren’t even sure whose tears streaked your skin as they fell—were they yours? Satoru’s? Suguru’s?

You didn’t know.

You didn’t know what happened after that.

All you remember are the words.

Suguru’s voice, low and steady, cutting through the haze. He leaned close, his hand resting on your clammy cheek with an almost painful tenderness. His dark eyes bore into yours, soft yet heavy with something that made your stomach twist.

“You shouldn’t have run,” he whispered. His tone was calm, soothing even, but the edge beneath it was sharp enough to draw blood. “Look at what you’ve done to yourself. You should’ve listened.”

And for a long time, you didn’t have the strength to argue.

The days that followed blurred together. Feeling like a ghost in your body, too weak to move, too tired to speak. Satoru and Suguru hovered, their gazes flickering between concern and something you couldn't quite place. The maids continued to whisper on with their rumors, their eyes darting to you with pity or disdain, as though you’d done this to yourself.

In their eyes, you were lucky.

Lucky to have survived. Lucky to have them.

And lucky, in their eyes, to not have another pregnancy until your first two boys turned five.

Five years of peace. Or something that resembled it.

Five years of watching your sons grow, of hearing their first words, of feeling their small, warm arms wrap around you as they giggled into into your neck. Five years where it was almost believable that this was normal, where you could almost convince yourself this was love.

Because it did feel like love, didn’t it?

Until the day you overheard Suguru speaking to them.

His voice was hushed, but not hushed enough.

“Mommy is sick,” he said, tone calm and soothing like he was explaining a simple fact of life. “Sometimes she says things she doesn’t mean. Sometimes she gets confused. But that’s okay. We love her, don’t we?”

A pang sent through your chest, breath catching as you froze in the hallway. Those cruel words lies carved like knives, each one slicing deeper than the last.

He was planting seeds, wasn’t he?

Teaching them to see you the way he wanted them to see you. Fragile. Dependent. Broken.

However with fists clenched, nails pressing into palms with a sting sharp enough to ground the swirling emotions within. The urge to scream hovered at the edge, to cry and storm into the room, demanding explanations with the desperation of a cornered animal. Words burned on the tip of the tongue—protests that it wasn’t true, that sickness and confusion weren’t the chains binding this existence.

But what would they believe?

Suguru’s steady, patient voice, rich and even, always laced with quiet authority? The father whose dark eyes always seemed to understand everything, who carried himself with calm, unshakable control, even when his smiles didn’t quite reach his eyes?

Or you?

The mother who had tried to run, who had collapsed and bled and screamed, who had been scolded for her defiance. The one they saw as weak, frail, and ungrateful.

You wanted to run again. The thought burned in the back of your mind, relentless and wild.

But you didn’t.

You stayed.

Because, in the end, what choice did you really have?

But by the time your third child—a sweet boy who looked like a perfect blend of you and Suguru—turned three, the illusion of peace began to crack.

Suguru was already leaning close, his voice soft and coaxing as he murmured into your ear, “I think it’s time we try for a girl.”

Satoru, of course, was on board almost immediately.

After all, your third child was different. A nonsorcerer, just like you, showing none of the abilities your first two boys possessed. Those two had cried in the dead of night, their small voices trembling with fear as they described the horrors only they could see—things you couldn’t even begin to comprehend.

But that wasn’t why your husbands looked at Kiyoshi with quiet disapproval.

It wasn’t his lack of cursed energy that made them see him as an anomaly.

It was his heart.

From the moment Kiyoshi was placed in your arms, red-faced and wailing, he clung to you with a desperation that never faded. He didn’t want the maids to hold him, didn’t toddle after Suguru’s composed steps or reached for Satoru’s strong arms. He wanted you. Always you.

He was a mama’s boy through and through, and that was love.

A love so pure it felt like a lifeline in the suffocating world you’d been forced into.

While you loved your first two boys deeply—how could you not?—there was always a distance there, a reflection of the walls your husbands had built around you. The first two cuddled into your lap, their small hands clutching yours as they whispered things that broke you.

“Mommy, we want you to get better.” “We don’t like it when you yell at Daddy to let you leave.”

They were too young to understand, too innocent to see the chains tightening around you.

But Kiyoshi understood, in his own way. Even as a toddler, he refused to leave your side, refused to let the maids or his fathers pull him from your arms. He was always on your hip, his little hand clutching your clothes, his head resting against your chest.

“Kiyoshi,” Satoru had said once, his tone laced with false amusement, “means ‘pure sadness.’ Don’t you think that’s fitting?”

He smiled as if it were a joke, but you could hear the bitterness beneath it.

And maybe it was fitting.

Because Kiyoshi only stopped wailing when he was in your arms, as if he already knew the world outside of you was too cruel, too cold.

By the time he turned three, Kiyoshi would toddle after you in the gardens, small, sturdy legs working hard to keep up. His face—a blend of Suguru’s gentleness and your warmth—would brighten with the purest smile. When his eyes crinkled at the corners, just like yours, you couldn’t help but feel your heart swell.

“Look, Mommy!” he’d say, holding up a flower he’d plucked from the garden, his tiny fingers dirt-stained and clumsy. “For you!”

You’d crouch down, brushing his dark hair back as you took the flower, your voice soft and tender in a way you hadn’t heard in years.

“Thank you, my sweet boy.”

And for a moment, it felt like it was just the two of you.

Like you could breathe again.

But you knew better.

As the sound of approaching footsteps always shattered moments like these. Heavy and far too familiar. You didn’t need to turn around to know it was Suguru.

His softspoken voice broke the fragile silence, calm and even, as always. “Kiyoshi,” he said, warm and affectionate, though laced with something you couldn’t quite name. “You’ve been keeping your mother all to yourself again, haven’t you?”

Kiyoshi stiffened at your side, the little hand tightening its grip on your kimono as he glanced nervously toward Suguru.

Suguru stepped closer and crouched down to Kiyoshi’s level, dark eyes softening as they met his son’s. “Come here, son,” he murmured, holding out a hand. His tone was gentle, coaxing, but there was an unspoken expectation beneath it. “Let Daddy hold you for a little while. I’ve missed you.”

But Kiyoshi didn’t move. His small fingers curled tighter into the fabric of your kimono, his face pressing into your side as though trying to make himself small, invisible.

Suguru’s gaze flicked to you, lips curling into a faint smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “So shy,” he said softly, his voice carrying a note of amused affection. “But you don’t have to be, Kiyoshi. Daddy just wants to hold you. You know that, don’t you?”

You felt your heart clench, torn between the instinct to shield him and the weight of Suguru’s presence. The tenderness in his tone, in the way his hand remained outstretched, made it all the harder to breathe.

“Kiyoshi,” Suguru said again, his voice dipping into a firmer edge, calm but unyielding. “Come.”

Reluctantly, your little boy let go of you, his steps slow and hesitant as he moved toward his father. Suguru’s smile widened, soft and reassuring, as he scooped Kiyoshi up effortlessly, cradling him with a gentleness that felt too deliberate, too controlled.

“There’s my good boy,” he murmured, brushing Kiyoshi’s hair back with careful fingers. His touch lingered, as though committing the texture to memory. “You love your mommy very much, don’t you?”

Kiyoshi nodded silently, his small face burying itself in Suguru’s shoulder.

Suguru’s gaze lifted to meet yours, a gentle smile, his tone almost playful. “You’ve spoiled him,” he said, a note of amusement threading through his words. “He’s too attached.”

You opened your mouth to respond, to say something, but the words caught in your throat.

What could you say?

That you were the only warmth in a world that terrified him? That his attachment wasn’t a flaw, but a desperate grasp at something safe?

Satoru appeared not long after, his presence impossible to ignore as he strolled into the garden, hands in his pockets and a grin that seemed too bright for the moment. His eyes, however, betrayed something softer—something that lingered only when they landed on you.

“Kiyoshi giving you trouble again?” Satoru's voice came out light, tinged with curiosity.

“No trouble,” Suguru replied smoothly, a hand still resting on Kiyoshi’s small back. “Just a little too fond of his mother.”

Satoru chuckled, shaking his head as he moved closer. His cerulean gaze flicked briefly to Kiyoshi before returning to you, that playful grin softening as he moved to brush a kiss against your temple. “Well, can you blame him?” he murmured, his voice low, meant only for you. “You’re hard not to love.”

The warmth of his affection made your heart twist, and your stomach flutter. For a moment, it was easy to forget the way his words often carried double meanings, easy to believe he was simply being sweet.

He straightened, turning his attention back to Suguru with a teasing smile. “But we’ll fix that soon enough, won’t we?”

They didn’t mean to hurt him, you told yourself. They wouldn’t.

But you knew better.

Because Kiyoshi was different. He didn’t fit into their world the way your first two boys did. And in their eyes, difference was something to be controlled.

For now, they let him cling to you. They let him toddle after you in the garden, offering flowers and dirt-streaked smiles that made your heart ache with both love and dread. For now, they allowed him to stay close, to hold onto the warmth you gave him, to believe he was safe in your arms.

But you knew it was only a matter of time.

Because your sons didn’t belong to you. Not really. They never had.

And no matter how much you wanted to shield Kiyoshi, no matter how fiercely you loved him, you knew one simple, devastating truth:

They’d let you have this for now.

But they would take him, too.

Because, after all, it’s all your fault.

For fleeing in the middle of the night.

The day was supposed to be perfect—a rare moment where Satoru and Suguru had taken the older two boys to the school, their voices filled with excitement as they promised to teach them more about the world they were destined to inherit. Your sweet boys kissed you goodbye with a tenderness that felt almost cruel, leaving you behind with Kiyoshi in the quiet, sprawling estate.

You had been on your best behavior. Smiling more, laughing when Satoru teased you, letting Suguru hold you a little longer than usual. You’d made them believe you were finally settling, finally accepting your role in their carefully constructed world.

And it worked.

So when the sun set and the house fell silent, you made your move.

You bundled Kiyoshi up in the softest blanket you could find, the small body warm and sleepy against your chest. He stirred only slightly as you slipped out of the estate, his tiny hands clutching onto your clothes.

He didn’t cry.

He didn’t make a sound.

It was as if he understood. As if even at three years old, he knew that silence was the only thing keeping you safe.

He nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, his soft breaths warm against your skin, and you couldn’t help the tears that welled up in your eyes.

The highway stretched out before you, an endless black ribbon under the faint glow of the moon. The lights of the city sparkled in the distance, a beacon of hope, a promise of sanctuary.

You walked for miles, the cold night air biting at your skin, legs aching with every step. But you didn’t stop. You couldn’t. Not with the faint echoes of paranoia whispering at the back of your mind.

Were they already looking for you? Did Satoru sense you slipping away even from miles away? Did Suguru wake in the middle of the night with the suffocating weight of intuition, already calling for their forces to track you down?

You didn’t know.

And you didn’t care.

The city limits were closer now, the glow of neon lights growing brighter, sharper. The faint hum of life and sound buzzed in the distance.

Kiyoshi stirred in your arms, his little head lifting just enough to peek out at the world around him. His dark eyes, so much like Suguru’s but filled with an innocence his father could no longer claim, glanced up at you with quiet curiosity.

“Mommy,” he whispered, his voice barely audible over the soft hum of the wind.

You pressed a kiss to his forehead, your tears wetting his soft hair. “We’re almost there, my sweet boy,” you murmured, your voice trembling under the weight of hope and fear. “Just a little farther.”

Sanctuary was so close you could taste it.

But it’s all your fault, isn’t it?

Born a nonsorcerer.

Blind to the horrors that lurk unseen. Powerless to fight them off. Too weak to keep that sweet little boy safe.

You always imagined curses as massive, grotesque creatures—monsters so obvious that the very air would change in their presence. That the world would stop, that everything would smell of death and decay as they loomed closer.

But when a curse appears, nothing changes.

There’s no warning. No shift in the wind.

The only thing you feel is the sudden weight of your child going limp in your arms.

And then the blood.

And then the blood.

It coats the ground—dark and endless, pooling around your knees and seeping into the cracks of the earth. Sticky and warm, it clings to trembling hands, staining your kimono, your skin, your very soul.

You can’t move. Can’t breathe.

Your little boy—your Kiyoshi—lies limp in your arms, his small body growing colder with every agonizing second. Tiny fingers, once so eager to cling to you, now dangle lifelessly. His dark lashes rest softly against pale cheeks, unmoving.

He looks like he’s sleeping.

You tell yourself that, over and over, as if saying it enough times will somehow make it true. Shaking hands brush back his dark hair, trembling as you whisper his name. Softly at first, then louder, your voice splintering with every syllable.

“Kiyoshi… wake up, baby. Please.”

But nothing changes.

The world around you feels wrong—too quiet, too still. The city lights in the distance mock you, their glow a cruel reminder of the sanctuary you’d been so close to reaching. You’d promised him, hadn’t you? Promised that everything would be okay. That you’d make it there. That you’d keep him safe.

You lied.

“Kiyoshi,” you choke out again, pressing a desperate kiss to his cooling forehead. Hot tears streak down your face, wetting his soft hair as you clutch him tighter, as though you could anchor him to you—keep him here, with you.

A wail tears through the night, raw and broken, shattering the oppressive silence. The sound is unrecognizable, guttural and full of despair. It takes a moment before you realize it’s coming from you.

The blood stains everything—your hands, your clothes, the ground—but it’s the loss of his warmth that destroys you.

How did this happen?

Your mind races, replaying the moments in broken fragments. You’d been walking, your legs aching, his small body cradled against your chest. He’d been so quiet, so trusting, his head nuzzled into the crook of your neck.

You were almost there.

Then the air shifted—just slightly—a subtle wrongness you hadn’t noticed until it was too late.

You didn’t see it.

You didn’t even know it was there until his body jerked in your arms, a sharp, unnatural movement that stole his breath—and yours.

And then he went limp.

It doesn’t make sense. None of it makes sense.

You rock him back and forth, tears falling freely, your voice hoarse as you beg him to wake up. Leaning to press your cheek against his, murmuring his name over and over, as if the sound alone could bring him back.

Because you failed him.

Because this is your fault.

Suguru’s arms wrap around you, their weight unbearable. His warmth presses against the chill of the night, suffocating in a way that makes the air harder to pull into your lungs. He cradles you like something precious, something fragile—like he cares, even as his words twist the knife deeper into your chest.

“We’ll take care of this, just like always,” he says, his voice soft, almost gentle. His lips brush against your hair, lingering, and the tenderness in the gesture makes your skin crawl. “You just need to stop fighting us. Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”

Satoru stood frozen, head bowed, white hair catching the faint glow of the city lights. Kiyoshi’s lifeless body was pressed tightly against him, his hands trembling ever so slightly as he held him close. For a moment, you thought you saw something crack in his expression—something raw, something human.

But it was gone just as quickly as it appeared.

When he finally turned his gaze to you, his blue eyes were as hollow as you’d ever seen them. “You shouldn’t have done this,” he said quietly, his voice devoid of its usual teasing lilt. “Why couldn’t you just stay?”

The question stabbed deeper than you thought possible, the shame and guilt coursing through you like poison.

Why couldn’t you just stay?

The image of Kiyoshi’s bright smile flashed, his tiny hands offering you flowers from the garden, his laugh ringing out like music in the suffocating silence of the estate. He’d been your light, your tether to something good.

And now he was gone.

Because of you.

You sagged further into Suguru’s hold, the fight draining out of you entirely. The tears wouldn’t stop, falling silently now, soaking into the front of Suguru’s shirt as he held you tighter.

“There, there,” he murmured, his hand stroking your hair in slow, deliberate motions. “That’s better. You don’t have to fight anymore. We’ll make it right.”

But there was no right in this.

The car waited nearby, its door open like an unspoken command. Suguru’s grip on you didn’t waver as he began guiding you toward it, his movements gentle but unrelenting. Satoru followed behind, cradling Kiyoshi’s small form like he was made of glass.

Your legs moved on instinct, numb and heavy, the metallic scent of blood lingering in the air.

The city lights grew fainter as the car doors shut behind you, locking you away from the world you’d been so close to reaching.

You told yourself you’d tried. That you’d done everything you could.

But deep down, you knew.

You’d never escape them.

And as Suguru’s fingers intertwined with yours, as Satoru’s empty gaze lingered on the horizon, you realized something that hollowed you out completely.

It wasn’t just that you had nothing left.

It was that you no longer cared to try.

It really was all your fault.

[joonjuul]

fallen angel. jjk

pairing: demon!jk x angel!reader

wc: 3.3k

warnings: dom!jk, manipulative!jk, virgin!reader, pwp except i spent a lot of time making it sound somewhat decent, unedited, corruption kink, slight noncon, slight coercion, light fingering (f receiving), light overstimulation (f receiving), multiple orgasms, crying, jk is a demon and wants to ruin a pretty little angel

a/n: reqs open ^_^

╋━

he was corrupt, wicked, borderline menacing. an angel who had once been kind and forgiving, yet somehow strayed away from his path and found himself at the steps of hell.

perverted, demonic, every horrible and malevolent thing you could ever dream of, rolled up into one sinfully handsome man. every bone in his body was structured by the gods, but every thought in his head was straight from the devil himself.

and yet here you were, the picture of perfect innocence, a halo upon your head and an angelic glow that radiated down to your feet, kneeling before him, begging desperately for his forgiveness.

it’s strange and mildly confusing how you ended up here, and you prayed to any god that would listen to allow you to spread your wings and carry yourself as far and fast away from this place as you could, but no god could hear you now. for you were in the most dishonorable place known to man, begging for your mercy upon your accidental trespassing.

it was never your intention to stray away from home, nor was it ever your intention to collapse at the gates that are neither pearly nor white. yet here you sat, your knees aching and pink beneath you, wrists restrained behind your back and the remnants of tears stained to your cheeks.

“please.” is all your throat can emit, pleading with the demon for what felt like the 100th time to show you even the slightest bit of mercy, but the way he smiled down at you, his hands held carefully in front of him, and his head cocked to the side gave you no hope whatsoever.

he took a step forward, approaching your vulnerable state and admiring the piece of art before him. an angel, and a beautiful one at that, just somehow stumbled upon his hellish lair. it was a gift he could not refuse.

he leaned down, your faces leveling out between each other as his eyes scanned you carefully. his body ached at the thought of defiling you, using you until he pleases, corrupting your precious form until you couldn’t move nor speak. you were simply too tempting to resist.

he took your chin between his fingers, tilting your head up gently, your skin glistening in the tender light.

“please won’t cut it this time, darling. you broke the rules, you know angels aren’t supposed to stray down here.” for a demon, his voice was sweet. soft-spoken. but you couldn’t help the pit that formed in your stomach at his words.

he tucks a hair behind your ear carefully. his touch somewhat soft despite the thoughts he was conjuring in his mind. brutal things he could do to you, things that should not be spoken, never mind performed on such a gentle creature like yourself.

“you’ll be a good girl for me, yes? accept your punishment?” he raises back to his feet, circling your frame as he decides where to begin. “i can’t promise i’ll go easy on you, angel.” you feel another tear forming at his words, the fear within your body now becoming otherworldly. never had you been consumed with such terror.

he’s quick to grab your arms, already tied tightly behind your back as he lifts you too your feet swiftly, noticing your already disheveled and panicked state.

“don’t start crying on me now, darling. we haven’t even started yet.” he taunts, closing in behind you as he tightens his grip around your wrists.

his breath is hot on your neck as he leans in closer to you, a pit forming deeper within your stomach at every step he makes.

“don’t make it harder on yourself.” you shudder at his words, feeling his hands move from your wrists to your sides, drawing circles along your perfect skin, skin that had yet to be touched, yet to be corrupted.

you close your eyes tightly, stifling the sobs that threaten to leave your mouth. however, this only spurs him on more. the sounds of your muffled sobs only fueling his desire to hurt you more and more.

he groans gently at your noises, his hands upon your skin gripping you tighter, hard enough to pepper bruises along your supple skin. you can feel him press into you from behind, his hard on painfully obvious against your flimsy skirt, doing barely anything to conceal you from his manhood.

your breath hitches in your throat as you feel him against you, circling along your bum, pulling you closer towards him. here you were, the picture of perfect innocence, about to be defiled, and the worst part was, you couldn’t help the pool that began to form in your panties at his unrequited touch, and this doesn’t go unnoticed by him.

your ears perk as you hear him take a deep inhale, consuming your scent, the smell of your desire filling his senses completely, only making it harder for him to control himself.

“now that’s not very angelic is it, darling?” his dark voice vibrates through your entire body, his breath hot on your neck as he brings his hands down under your skirt.

you begin to squirm at his movements, trying to release yourself from his hold but it’s no use. you were no match for a demon like jeon jungkook.

“now now, be still, i don’t bite.” he carefully pulls your panties down, releasing a string of your arousal all the way from your dripping cunt, down to your panties which are now hung along your ankles.

jungkook takes another deep inhale, relishing in the smell of your desire, and the traces of embarrassment and humiliation that go along with it.

“poor thing, never felt true pleasure.” he mutters under his breath, pulling your panties out from your ankles, leaving you completely exposed to his future wrongdoings.

you sniffle, finally having given up, knowing that your attempts at escaping are useless, and preparing yourself for what’s to come.

“it’s not pleasure. it’s sinful.” you feel the words slip out from your mouth before you have time to retract them, knowing that you talking back will only make things worse for you.

your body tenses as you feel him slowly move up from under you, placing his hands on your shoulders to turn you to face him.

his eyes are dark, whether with lust or corruption, you weren’t sure. he traces over your figure, your shaking legs, your hands still tied tightly behind your back, your tear stained cheeks and pouty lips.

he smirks, his fantasy was unraveling perfectly.

he places a finger under your chin, tilting your head to look up at him.

“sin is pleasure, angel.”

before you can process what’s happening, you can feel his fingers tracing your folds carefully. your legs no longer able to hold you up as you collapse against his chest, but he never once fumbles in his ministrations.

you feel a whimper escape your lips, and you fall into a deeper pit of guilt knowing no matter how hard you tried, you wouldn’t be able to avoid the pleasure the demon brings to your body, even if it was against every belief you ever had.

“shhh, it’s okay sweetheart.” he pats your head gently, holding you close to his chest as he continues teasing your folds, gathering the slick that had accumulated and bringing it to your hole, gently prodding at your entrance. “i’m going to make you wish you were a demon all along.”

you feel another tear trace your cheek as you begin to sob harder now, his touch both comforting and immoral, only confusing your body and your mind even more.

before you have time to process, you can feel yourself being laid down back on the floor, his broad figure now above yours, but his fingers never ceasing, as he carefully inserts one into your untouched body.

you gasp harshly, your hole cautiously opening itself to his finger, but not without a sharp pain filling your insides.

“god you really are untouched, aren’t you?” jungkook’s fingers begin to pump in and out of you, his pace quickening faster than you have time to adjust to, your body writhing as the pain builds in your lower abdomen, and your voice hushed as you whimper and cry at his movements.

“you can’t even handle my fingers, how on earth are you going to be able to handle my cock, little one?” his words reverberate through your body, your mind bouncing as you comprehend what he’s saying. if his finger was this painful, what would a cock feel like?

you feel your body get hot at the thought of the pain you would soon have to endure, your eyes welling with tears once more, and you barely have time to prepare before he adds a second finger, the pain only increasing as he stretches you in ways you never knew were possible.

“p-please.” you’re begging for anything, for forgiveness, for him to stop, maybe for him to even go faster.

“what’s wrong, baby? can’t handle it?” he’s mocking you, mocking your state, the situation you’ve gotten yourself into. and for a moment you think you’re filled with enough rage you could push him off you then and there, but then, something happens. he curls his fingers.

you feel the moan slip past your lips, your mind going blank as the pain suddenly disappears and it’s replaced with something much much stronger; pleasure.

you’re shocked, the writhing of your lower body morphing into small ruts as your mind subconsciously seeks out more.

but the demon hanging above you, couldn’t be less shocked.

“that’s a girl. feels good, doesn’t it?” you let out another moan at his words and you begin to feel a sensation building within your stomach, something you’ve never felt before.

it wasn’t painful, but it was like you were reaching for something that couldn’t quite be grasped. was it, anticipation?

jungkook watches carefully as you turn into a blabbering mess beneath him. you hadn’t even noticed he had untied your wrists several minutes earlier. you were too busy riding on a high that was unknown to you.

he can only feel the pressure building in his pants at your disheveled state. it was always one of his fantasies to corrupt a beautiful, pure angel like you. and the sight before him was enough to make him release into his pants right then and there.

your mind had now been completely forgotten, your body taking over completely as every sense in your body was filled with overwhelming pleasure. the way his fingers curled inside of you and perfectly aligned with pieces within you not even you knew existed only brought you closer and closer to the edge, if you knew what the edge was.

your breath quickens as you continue grinding against his fingers, your movements building in both intensity and speed as you approach a high that you never knew existed. it was all so unfamiliar, so godless, and before you knew it, you were there.

jungkook watches as you cry out, your body shaking profusely as you squirt around his fingers, your slick running down his forearm and covering your thighs completely. you were an absolute mess. writhing beneath him, panting, your cheeks burning as your face beautifully contorts into something that can only be described as unholy.

and just like that, he was hooked.

you finally feel yourself coming back to reality, your ears ringing quietly as you open your eyes, your body still overwhelmed with an insatiable pleasure.

“such a messy little angel. so perfect and sweet, all for me.” you can barely process jungkook’s words before he’s flipping you onto your stomach. your eyes widen as you hear him begin to take off his pants, a panic setting in that wasn’t out of fear for your innocence, but rather fear for the pain.

“don’t be nervous, little one. your cunt is soaked, you’re gonna swallow me whole isn’t that right?” you gulp harshly at his words, feeling the subtle brush of his cock on your bum as he finally frees it from the confines of his pants.

your breath quickens once more, secretly wishing you at least could see his size, and know what you were getting yourself into, but by the time the thought crosses your mind, it’s already too late.

your walls tense as he pushes into you, a scream crying out from your lungs at the sudden intrusion. your so blinded by the pain that you don’t even notice his hushed praises, and soothing touch on your waist. all your body can focus on is the feeling of your lower half being split in two.

“there you go baby, almost there.” he groans under his breath as he bottoms out inside of you. your walls stretched so wide you think you’ll break in half.

you inhale deeply through your nose, your bottom lip bloody from subconsciously biting it harder than you knew was possible, as your hands grip for anything they can find, anything to ground you to reality.

“god you’re so fucking tight.” you feel his head drop into the crook of your neck, his hips halted as he tries to gain his composure, and you silently thank him for not breaking you apart like he easily could’ve done.

“gonna taint that righteous little body of yours, angel. gonna fuck you so hard you’ll forget your god and worship me instead.” you wince as he begins to pull back, his hips settling on a painfully slow pace.

although the ache between your legs was more than present, you couldn’t help your desire to want more of him. why was he moving so slow?

jungkook however, was letting the pieces of his plan fall together. see, he couldn’t just fuck you and steal your innocence in one fell swoop, he had to make you want it. he wanted you so corrupted and perverted that you become glad that he fucked you, glad that he stripped you of your purity.

your eyes roll back into your head, your body falling victim to his deliberate pace. you couldn’t help but want more, he was filling you up so deliciously, your slick dribbling around his balls. this was more torturous than any punishment he could’ve ever inflicted upon you.

“please.” you whine, your hands gripping tighter to whatever object was the closest, your bum poking out subconsciously as you beg for more.

“hmm? what is it angel?” his voice is calm and collected, velvety silk as it rings through your ears, only building the tension in your abdomen more.

“more.” the word comes out in a whisper, barely legible but jungkook already knew what you wanted before you spoke it. he could tell by the way your hips swayed against him, the way your body responded to his cock, he knew you’d be drunk before the words fell off your pretty lips.

“more? does my pretty, innocent little angel want more?” he begins to quicken his pace slightly, his cock prodding your g-spot as you begin to cry out in pleasure. your mind completely free of any shame you had previously felt. all you cared about was reaching your second high that was approaching painfully slow.

“y-yes please.” and just like that, he began to plow into you inhumanely. it was animalistic, profane, borderline sacrilegious the way he slammed his cock inside of you. your screams only spurring him on as he rocks into you faster.

“this is what you wanted, baby? you want me to ruin your perfect little body?” he growls, bringing a hand up to your hair to grab a fistful and pull you back against his chest, unsatisfied with your silence.

“answer me, bitch.” you whimper at the sudden aggressiveness, your back now flush against his chest as he continues to pound into you.

“y-yes. yes. i want you to- fuck- i want you to ruin me.” if you could see yourself, you’re sure you’d be disturbed, certainly give up your wings willingly.

jungkook smiles, releasing your hair and watching you collapse onto the floor as he brings his hands back to your waist, pushing you against his cock as he continues to drive into you.

“that’s right, angel. all it took was a little cock, hmm?” you can feel the knot closing in your stomach at his words, the dirtiness scared you, you felt shameful, but god was his cock delicious.

jungkook watches as you begin to push back against him, your knuckles turning white as you desperately attempt to reach your high.

“getting close again, angel? that didn’t take long.” you moan at his words, but can’t help but grind your hips against him harder, gaining a growl from him in return.

but he was right, you were agonizingly close, and you weren’t prepared for the feeling of his arm snaking beneath you as he begins to draw circles around your clit.

your eyes shut, eyebrows crease together tightly as you release another load moan, your legs beginning to shake as you feel the knot closing in on you.

you feel jungkook lean forward, his chest against your back as his breath his hot on your shoulder. you shudder at the new sensation, your vision going black as you feel your body dance on the edge of release.

“cum for me, angel. wanna see you cum around my cock.” his rasp against your ear is all it takes for you to come undone completely. the tunnel vision turning into pitch black as you feel your release wash over you.

jungkook’s hips still as your walls tighten, his eyes rolling back into his head as he feels you throb around him, pushing and pulling him back in simultaneously, and completely soaking his cock in the process.

he groans at the sight, feeling his dick twitch inside of you as he begins to move again, even faster than before.

your feel your vision coming back to you, followed by your hearing, a wave of pleasure completely falling over you from head to toe, it feels almost blissful, until you feel jungkook’s movements pick up behind you.

your body is suddenly on fire, every inch of your skin overwhelmed in sensitivity, it was too much.

“too much! too much!” but your shouts are useless. his finger prints digging into your sides, completely overtaking the purple splotches he had left their previously.

“shut up.” he growls, his thrusts becoming messy as he approaches his own release.

before you’re able to gather a response, you feel his white hot liquid shoot inside of you, coating your walls completely and filling you up more than you ever knew was possible.

his hips slow, his breathing rapid as he carefully paints your interior, marking you as his until the end of time, until angels and devils cease to exist.

“fuck.” his voice is breathless as he pulls out of you, watching the white liquid seep from your throbbing hole, dripping down between you before landing on the floor in front of him.

he smiles at the sight, relishing in the fact that you will forever be imprinted on by his demonic, ungodly behavior. it was more than he could’ve ever asked for.

you lay panting, your body trembling aggressively as you try to process what had happened. you were no longer the pure, picture of innocence you had spent your whole life trying to obtain. you were stained, forever.

you feel jungkook’s presence leave you as he stands up, retrieving a towel from across the room and ducking down to his original stance to clean up the mess you had both made.

“don’t sweat it, baby. being bad is so much more fun anyway.”