#i always thin chocolate with milk | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

florestalio · 4 months ago

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HAIR TIE AGENDA — k.wh

albeit the lines of your friendship were quite blurred, it still confused you as to why woonhak was suddenly adamant on having your hair tie on his wrist at all times. given, you know, that it would be basically telling the world that the two of you were dating.

GENRE— fluff, highschool au, friends to lovers

WARNINGS— lots of touching, jealousy, mutual pining but they are both oblivious idiots, cursing, toxicity (they are huge haters imo), kissing, slight making out (?), let me know if I missed any!

WORDCOUNT— 6.4k

NOTE— fluff is my biggest enemy, so this was quite the challenge for me. enha ver posted here!

YOU AND WOONHAK WERE CLOSE. Too close, according to the rest of your friends.

You both had been best friends since kindergarten, the story of your meeting never failing to tear a chuckle out of anyone who heard it.

You were three years old, having arrived at kindergarten a few minutes ago. You were scared to go and talk to the other kids — what if they were mean? What if they laughed at your pretty bows? What if they didn't want to play with you?

You sat in one corner, away from the other kids, playing with a small doll. Amidst your playing, you saw little feet approach you. You looked up, noticing a boy of your age. He stared right back at you, before pointing at you. “You are going to be my best friend!”

The boy had later introduced himself to be Woonhak, and you both had truly become best friends. The two of you were together through thick and thin, never leaving each other's side. There were no secrets between the two of you, the thought itself incredulous. You both were best friends, why on earth would you both hide something from each other?

Your bond was unbreakable, something that left many writhing in envy. How come you both were so close, never able to leave each other's side?

With a good bond, comes judgement. Judgement by others, assumptions about your true relationship.

While you both were close, not everyone knew that you both were best friends, right? To any stranger, you both were the embodiment of 'siblings, or dating?'.

While you both bickered and were playful enough to be termed as siblings, the way you both acted with each other, often left people confused.

See, your love language was physical touch, while his was acts of service. After spending so much time with each other for all these years, you both were bound to rub off on each other, weren't you?

His hand was almost always on your waist, or your shoulders — didn't matter where you guys were, or what you were doing — it was always there. If somehow he forgot to put his hand around you, you would loop your arm around his, or intertwine your hands. It was cute, definitely very cute, but — the extreme couple energy that you both excluded was insane.

It didn't help that you were often touching him, skinship being basically your second nature. You were always fixing his hair, his clothes, touching him while you were speaking to him, while you were laughing with him — how could you both expect anyone to believe that you weren't dating each other?

Not only that, both of you would often be seen giving each other random gifts, without it being a special occasion. You were often seen giving Woonhak a chocolate at a random time of the day, while he was often delivering milk to you. If anyone asked, he always had the same excuse: “She doesn't drink enough water, she needs to stay hydrated”, while you always said “he likes chocolates, is it so wrong of me to give chocolates to a friend?” Needless to say, they always backed off after that.

It was only after a certain set of incidents that everyone finally had something to confirm that yes, you both were indeed more than friends.

IT WAS A QUARTER PAST SEVEN IN THE MORNING, fifteen minutes left for the start of the first period. You and Woonhak had arrived at school just five minutes ago, with his hand around your waist as usual. The two of you were giggling at some tea you were spilling regarding a relationship between a senior and a sophmore, since you were physically incapable of keeping things from him. Just as you were getting to the good part of the gossip, one of Woonhak’s friends from the football team ran up to the two of you. Jaehyun.

“Hey lovebirds!” Jaehyun cheerily waved to the both of you, his tone teasing. You simply rolled your eyes with a smile, having gotten used to the antics of his friends. “Woonhak, dude, I'm gonna need a favour — one of our frontiers is absent, and none of the subs are available. Please help us out for today's match — I promise I'll make it up to you, even if we don't win. You will even have a customized jersey for the match, which you can keep with yourself permanently–!”

Woonhak hesitated, his grip on your waist tightening slightly. “I don't know, I was planning on leaving early with ___ today, to get ice cream and all…”

You immediately pinched his hand that was around your waist. “He means yes, we can always reschedule the hangout.”

Jaehyun's eyes lit up. “Really?! Thank you so much, you have no idea how desperately we needed another player — I'll go tell the others now, you can come and practice with us during recess!”

Just before he could leave, you halted him, getting out of Woonhak's grasp. “Jaehyun, wait–”

He stopped on the spot, looking at you with a confused gaze. “Something wrong?”

You stepped forward, brushing some hair out of his face gently, smoothing the slightly messy hair on top of head. You took a step back. “There you go, the mess was bothering me.”

He blinked, a faint red coating his cheeks and creeping up his neck. He was well aware of your touchy nature, but this was the first time he was on the receiving end of it, hence his flustered state. “O-Oh, thanks — I- I'll go now–”

He quickly turned on his heel and left, a light jog evident in his retreating figure. You turned back towards Woonhak, a smile on your face. “Let's go to class, or else we might be late.”

He nodded, his arm looping around your waist once more, guiding you around the busy halls, to class. You couldn't help but notice the slightly tighter grip he had on your waist, or the way his expression was different than his usual when you turned back towards him.

CLASS WAS BORING AS USUAL. The two of you sat at the back of class, messing around as usual instead of studying. Yet, there was something amiss.

Usually, Woonhak was a lot more playful, a lot more relaxed and free around you. Currently however, there seemed to be an air of hesitation, reluctance around him. His smile didn't exactly reach his eyes, his laughter feeling forced.

‘Maybe he just isn't feeling it today?’ was what you thought, so you didn't bother asking. You knew if something was seriously bothering him, he would have told you already.

Before long, the bell rang, signifying recess. You quickly held Woonhak's hand, pulling him out of his seat, and racing into the hall. You both had already eaten in class, — how you both never get caught, is a mystery you're both yet to solve — so he would have the entire recess to practice with the rest of the football team for the match that was going to take place later on.

You both quickly navigate your way to the football ground, spotting Jaehyun and the rest of the team doing lazy stretches to warm up first. He spotted the two of you quickly enough, waving and rushing over to where you both were standing.

“Hey,” he began, a grin adorning his face. “I'm so glad you didn't change your mind — ___, you can sit on the benches and watch if you'd like, I'm sure the others won't mind! Also, coach got the customized jersey done already — no idea how he got it done so quickly — it's there in the locker rooms, so you can change into that right now if you'd like!”

You admired his ability to yap continually without stopping, making you smile a little. You nodded in his direction, nudging Woonhak to go and change already, before quickly walking over to the benches and taking a seat.

Soon enough, Woonhak was back, adorning the jersey, making your jaw drop. You couldn't take your eyes off him — you had never seen him in attire similar to that before, but damn, he sure did look amazing.

Your face flushed slightly, as you quickly tried to snap out of these thoughts. Nope, that's your best friend, you're not going to think of him in that sense.

You watched as they all played, Woonhak surprisingly being able to keep pace with them. You never watched him play before, the sight drawing you in like a moth to a flame. His concentration was — were you blushing?!

God, what was wrong with you? Had you been single for so long that the sight of your best friend simply practicing in the field had you all giddy?

The rest of the recess went on smoothly, with you trying not to concentrate on Woonhak too much, lest someone caught you with your cheeks on fire. God, you really needed to get yourself together.

Once practice was over, Woonhak quickly went to you, his usual smile back on face. You handed him a bottle of water, quickly wiping his sweat off him. He started babbling while you were doing so. “Did you see that? I did pretty good back there, right? Jaehyun said that he was confident we would win the match today, and said I was better than the guy I'm subbing for! Isn't that great?”

You let out a hum, finishing wiping off his sweat. “Yea, you were amazing. C'mon now, we need to run, or else we will be late for history — you know how ma'am gets when someone is even two seconds late.”

He nodded, seemingly satisfied with your answer. He didn't need to know that you weren't exactly watching much of what he was doing, or that you were only watching him.

AS SOON AS THE BELL FOR THE LAST PERIOD RANG, nearly the whole school raced to the grounds. All the players, including Woonhak, ran to the locker rooms to change, whereas the rest of the students quickly found the best seats possible.

You sat at the very front, a bottle of water and a towel already in your hands. You were a little tense for the match, since the opponent team seemed to be extremely well prepared. Still, you tried to not let your mind wander, focusing on Woonhak, as he came out of the locker rooms, into the field.

The match started. The opposing team was putting up a good defense, but Woonhak’s team was able to keep up. It was hard to watch, the many nearly-goals and nearly-fouls heightening your nerves. You tried to not let them get to your head, focusing instead on cheering for Woonhak.

Half time arrived soon enough, with both the teams having scored one goal each. Woonhak came straight to you, quickly taking the bottle from your hand, gulping it all down. He gave you a sheepish grin. “Sorry, I'm really nervous for the match. The opposing team is… starting to get angry. I don't think they expected us to keep up, so they were a little dumbfounded. But now they are simply pissed — they aren't exactly known for being the fairest when it comes to playing football, and winning.”

You bit your lip, wiping off his sweat with the towel. “But they can't use unfair means to win, can they? They will get a foul…”

Your words died down on your tongue once you noticed his grim expression. “If they somehow injured one of us, leaving us incapable of playing, what is one red card going to do? They have subs available, we don't. If one of us is out, the match would already be lost.”

You didn't know what to say in order to encourage or comfort him. You knew that the reputation of their opponents wasn't the best, but there was nothing anyone could do, other than to stay safe and try their best. So that's what you told him.

He gave you an amused smile. A teasing glint appeared in his eyes.“You sound worried. Are you scared that they might hurt me?”

You scowled at him. “This isn't a joke! They could actually injure you, can't you just give me your word that you will at least try to stay safe?”

He let out a small snicker, before giving you a mock salute. “Of course ma'am. Just do me a favour, will you?”

You tilted your head to the side. A favour? Now? You decided not to question it. “Sure I can. But it depends on what it is.”

He grinned at you, before pulling his jersey off him, revealing a plain white t-shirt underneath. That explained why he was sweating more than the others. Who even wears two layers to a football match?

He shoved it in your chest. “Wear it, and cheer for me.”

You gave him an incredulous look. “No way! It's literally drenched in your sweat.”

He pouted, giving you a pleading look. “Please? For me? It's only for an hour and a half, can't you do it? I'll feel a lot more motivated then. C'mon, just do it, please–”

You groaned at his incessant begging. “Fine! I'll wear it — just… ugh, help me out with it–”

The grin on his face grew, as he quickly helped slide the jersey onto you. He proudly made you twirl for him, with you hiding your face in your hands from the utter embarrassment of it — but complying nonetheless. Unbeknownst to you, a smug smirk adorned his face, as he locked eyes with Jaehyun in the process, who quickly looked away, his ears turning red at having been caught looking.

The whistle sounded again, signifying the start of the second half. Woonhak quickly left, the hurried ‘good luck!’ that you threw at him bringing a smile to his face.

You watched as he advanced into the field with renowned vigour, the determined expression on his face soothing your nerves slightly. You made sure to cheer for him even louder than before, the grin that he threw your way making it worth the looks that were shot in your direction.

But the opposing team did not relent. Eager to match Woonhak's newfound enthusiasm, they changed their strategies. The brutality in every move that they made caused your anxiety to spike.

Woonhak's team, however, didn't let it deter them. Everyone was determined to win, to not succumb to the team that always tries to get their way through unfair means.

Speaking of unfair means, the attempts at making foul moves increased ten-fold. Many of the players in Woonhak's team were almost injured, but somehow they managed to avoid it at the last second. Why the referee wasn't giving any yellow cards, was beyond your imagination.

The clock was ticking down. Not a single goal had been made. The audience was starting to lose hope, the enthusiasm in their cheers starting to fade. You made sure to continue screaming, cheering them on as best as you could. In the midst of it all, Woonhak glanced at you. Upon seeing the expression on your face, he made it his personal mission to win. He had to, for you. He wasn't going to disappoint you, he swore to himself.

With a determined look, he surged forward, trying to get to the ball. Jaehyun had the ball, and he locked eyes with him. Upon noticing the younger’s determined expression, he managed to pass the ball to him.

Woonhak caught the ball without any interceptions, quickly racing towards the goal. He skillfully avoided all the attempts to tackle him, running as fast as possible to the goal. The goalkeeper froze, upon noticing the expression on his face.

Taking advantage of his momentary distraction, he struck. With a sudden burst of strength, he kicked the ball, watching as it flew into the goalpost, the goalkeeper just narrowly missing it.

The sudden uproar that erupted was deafening to say the least. His teammates were hugging and whooping, patting him on the back. The exhilarating feeling that came from the win, made him feel lighter, as if he was on cloud nine.

His eyes searched for you, noticing you trying to get past the huge crowd towards him. He quickly navigated his way out of the crowd, making his way towards you. As soon as he was in front of you, he wrapped his arms around your waist, making you squeal, as he picked you up and spun you in the air. His grin was wide, your own grin almost as wide as his. “We won! We actually fucking won! Did you see my last goal? I looked cool right? I still can't believe I actually made the goal–”

In the midst of his yapping, one of your friends was wiping his sweat off for him. While you tried to not let it show, you couldn't help the jealousy that flared inside you at the intimate gesture. You were supposed to do it for him, not her. Woonhak didn't even seem to notice, too focused on telling you the details — as if you didn't witness it all by yourself.

Unable to bear the sight of her wiping off his sweat with a random towel, you grabbed his hand, pulling him away. You both set into a sprint, away from the people congratulating him.

As soon as you reached a somewhat secluded region of the school, you turned to him, your arms crossed over your chest. But before you could speak, he spoke first, his breathing coming in short pants. “Goddamn woman, I just won a match, you're already making me run again? Cut me some slack, will you?”

You rolled your eyes, ignoring his outburst. “Why did you let her do it?”

He looked at you, confused. “Huh? Let who do what…?”

You gave him an incredulous look. “Her. You let her wipe off your sweat for you — don't tell me that you didn't notice it at all?!”

He still looked confused. “Huh? Someone did that? I didn't even realise — I was talking to you, so I was distracted, I guess. But why does it matter?”

You gave him a pointed look, frustration evident in your eyes. Why wasn't he getting it?! “‘Why does it matter?’ Because I'm your best friend! I always do it for you, so why would you let her do it as well? If I'm your best friend, then shouldn't I get treated as such? Shouldn't I be treated differently from the rest of our friends? Why are you letting her do something that only I do to you?”

His eyes widened, before he frowned. “I didn't even notice her doing it… but if I should treat you differently from the rest of our friends, shouldn't you do the same to me as well? Why should this be a one-sided arrangement?”

Now it was your time to frown. “One-sided? How is this one-sided?! I always treat you differently, how have I ever treated you similar to the rest of our friends?”

He rolled his eyes. “Oh, I don't know, maybe yesterday? When you fixed Jaehyun's hair for him? Since when did you start fixing people's hair other than mine?”

You were at a loss for words. You simply opened and closed your mouth several times, like a fish out of water.

Woonhak spoke again. “How about this: I pay more attention to my surroundings, while you keep your hands to yourself? Don't go around touching other people's hair, that should be reserved for me only. Do we have a deal?”

You bit the inside of your cheek. “Fine. We have a deal.”

You usually didn't back down from fights that easily. But everything seemed to be different when it involved Woonhak.

TRUE TO YOUR DEAL, the two of you didn't treat others even remotely similar to how you treated each other anymore. Both of you grew much closer than before. People could easily pick up on the change in the air around the two of you, the shippers going slightly insane. When were the two of you going to announce your relationship officially?

Neither of you paid much attention to those silly rumours, always dismissing the teasing. Friends were allowed to be possessive of each other, were they not? Was it a crime to want some things to be just between you guys, and not for everyone else to know and judge?

Days went by the same, the teasing never stopped. But it was always there from the very beginning of your friendship, not just from classmates, but outsiders and family members as well. Both of you had grown used to it.

Recently, both you and Woonhak had noticed the trend of wearing hair ties on wrists. While it wasn't an uncommon sight for girls, it certainly was for boys. What do they need a hair tie for, when their hair is so short?

It was quickly discovered that the hair ties were actually of their girlfriends’, them wearing it on their wrists being a sign of commitment — and the general fact that they had a girlfriend.

Of course, it flared jealousy among those who weren't in a relationship — including you and Woonhak. Both of you glared in resentment at anyone who had a hair tie on their wrist, always greeting them with a bitchy eye roll. Both of you, like every other single person, loved to hate on couples, betting on when they would break up, if they were cheating on their partner, and whatnot. You both were always met with the same responses: ‘Just wait till you get into a relationship.’

Your responses were the same too. The same eye roll, paired with a pissed off comment, either mocking them, or talking about how neither of you would ever bother with dating anyone. Everytime, you both were met with an exchange of amused glances. Neither of you ever understood that they meant when you both would get together.

It started to get unbearable after a while, with almost everyone wearing a hair tie on their wrist. It was frankly starting to annoy Woonhak a lot, to the point that he snapped at his friends, which was uncharacteristic of him. It was only then that the guys gave him the obvious solution: to wear a hair tie as well.

Wearing a hair tie on his wrist was easier said than done. For Christ’s sake, he didn't have a girlfriend! Why would he wear a hair tie on his wrist, when he didn't have someone's to wear?

But then a crazy thought struck him. He may not have a girlfriend, but he definitely had a girl best friend. You. He could wear your hair tie on his wrist, right?

Turns out, you didn't share the same views as him.

“ABSO-FUCKING-LUTELY NOT. Where did you even get this crazy idea from?!”

Woonhak bit his lip, rubbing his nape sheepishly. “Well — the guys keep teasing me, so I got desperate, and… uhm…”

You pinched the bridge of your nose, closing your eyes, and sighing. “Woonhak, you're aware that only couples wear hair ties on their wrists, right? We,” You gestured between the two of you. “are not a couple. You wearing my hair tie on your wrist would be indicating that I'm your girlfriend. Which I'm clearly not. Let's not give everyone another incentive to tease us, yea?”

He let out a groan. “Oh, c’mon, who cares what others think? We can just — make an excuse — tell them that I'm wearing it because you keep losing your hair ties, so I'm basically your hair tie holder. How does that sound?”

You gave him an incredulous look. “No one will ever buy that shitty excuse.”

He scowled at you. “Oh, like you could come up with something better.”

You nodded enthusiastically, although it was completely sarcastic. “Of course I can! We forget this conversation! Because we both know what the hair tie would indicate. Not just to others, but between us too.”

He shook his head stubbornly. “I don't care. I'm going to wear one.”

You rolled your eyes. But before you could open your mouth to retort, Woonhak grabbed the hair tie that you used to meticulously tie your hair into a ponytail and pulled.

You watched in shock, as your hair came undone, your hair tie now in his hand. With a smug smirk, he wore it on his wrist, showing it to you proudly, before going off to his class. “Bye ___! See you after this period!”

Oh, he was definitely going to see you. Maybe two of you or even more, depending on how hard you punch him.

JUST AS EXPECTED, you both were on the receiving end of everyone’s teasing, becoming the new hot topic of your school. No matter how much you both tried to ignore it, it just didn’t work.

Questions about whether you both were secretly dating or not followed you both left and right, comments assuming the status of your relationship were thrown about casually — it was simply too much. None of your friends believed you either, their cheeky smiles and teasing comments following you both everywhere.

All because of Woonhak’s obsession with wanting to wear your hair tie.

At some point you both got sick of trying to clear up the accusations, just letting people think what they wanted to. After all, their assumptions and comments weren’t going to magically come true, just because they think a certain way.

Right?

THE TEASING HAD GOTTEN TO A POINT WHERE NEITHER OF YOU COULD STAND IT ANYMORE, causing you both to avoid people as much as possible. Did no one understand the concept of personal space anymore? Or did they forget that minding their own damn business would always be more fruitful than trying to gather tea about other people’s love lives, or lack thereof?

Most of the time, you both hung out in the library or rooftop, sometimes even resorting to taking refuge in the janitor’s closet, that’s how much you both were affected by the constant teasing. How come everyone was so damn invested in the love life of you both, when it didn’t even concern them in the slightest?

Today was no different. From the morning, all you both could hear were comments like ‘So when are you guys planning on making it official?’, ‘When will you both drop the bomb?’, ‘Don’t bother lying, it’s too obvious that you both are super into each other.’, etc., etc. Your fist was clenched tightly by your side, Woonhak’s grip on your waist also tighter than usual. The urge to punch them in the faces was extremely high. When were they going to get bored of teasing you both?

In order to escape them, Woohak steered you through the crowd, escaping into the stairway. The two of you quickly climbed up the stairs, going to the rooftop. You pushed the door to the terrace open, the cold wind whipping in your faces. Woonhak slammed the door shut behind him using his foot, his hand never leaving your waist.

You went towards the railing, leaning on top of it. Woonhak finally let go of your waist, leaning on the railing beside you. Neither of you spoke, simply enjoying the feeling of the cool breeze, and the majestic view of the cityscape beneath. The cars and people looked quite tiny from up there, like ants, which was to be expected, given that your school building was eight stories tall.

Suddenly, Woonhak cleared his throat. He spoke up, his voice low, eyes facing his front. “Do the rumours and the constant teasing bother you too much?”

You snapped your head towards him, your eyebrows furrowed in surprise. “Where is this coming from?”

He looked at you. “You know, the constant questions and comments that are thrown in our way? It just — it got me thinking: ‘What if it all bothered you too much? What if our friendship isn’t worth all the comments and excessive teasing we face?’ Just stuff like that.”

Your eyes widened in shock. “Oh my god — don’t you ever think like that, you hear me? Just because some people like to be annoying and poke their big ass nose in our goddamn business, doesn’t mean our friendship isn’t worth the trouble. Do you really care about other people’s opinions enough to end our friendship? Just like that?”

He quickly shook his head. “No no no, absolutely not — I just thought… actually, nevermind. I thought the rumours were making you uncomfortable, I’m glad I was wrong.”

A hint of a smile crept up your face, as you looked in front of you again. “A few silly comments can never make me break my friendship with you. You’re my best friend, aren’t you? Best friends are supposed to stick together, no matter what. Through thick and thin, all of our ups and downs Woonhak.”

He looked in front of him again, letting out a scoff, which was supposed to be an amused one, but it came out more bitter than intended. “Yea, best friends… that’s all we'll ever be…”

The last part was quiet, but you still heard it. The tips of your ears burned, a flush creeping up your neck. You quickly tried to change the subject. “L-Let’s try something.”

He furrowed his brows, looking at you again. “Try what?”

You bit your lip, quickly trying to think of something. “Uhm — let’s climb the railing and sit on it! Sounds fun, right?”

He raised a brow. “Absolutely not. That’s the stupidest, and most dangerous idea you’ve ever had, and that’s saying something.”

You pouted. “Come on, it’s not that bad — the railings are sturdy, we won’t fall.”

Woonhak firmly shook his head. “Nope. You want to climb it? Be my guest. But don’t tell me I didn’t warn you when you fall off and possibly break your leg. Or an arm. Or crack open your skull. Either way, I will say ‘I told you so’.”

You rolled your eyes, beginning to climb it up. “Oh shut up — I’m sure you would love to goad about it, if I fell off. You revel in my misery after all, don’t you–?”

You got cut off by a yelp of your own, your hand slipping. Woonhak immediately came to your rescue, pulling you off the railing. In complete and utter fear of the sudden momentary lapse of judgement that almost caused you to fall off the roof, you turned around, hugging him tightly.

He held you close, wrapping his own arms around your waist. He could feel your heart beating erratically in your chest, matching his own. He couldn’t believe how stupid and unaware of your surroundings you were.

He glared down at how you buried your head in his chest, in disbelief of your previous actions. You were shaking slightly in his hands, but he didn’t care. “Are you fucking insane?! You knew that was dangerous, why on earth would you still try to climb the damned railings? For the love of god, you could have fallen off and died!”

You meekly raised your head, preparing to retort, before freezing. He was so, so close. You could make out every single detail on his face, every freckle, every pore, every single blemish. Yet, he was so… mesmerizing.

Woonhak’s heart skipped a beat as he looked down at you. His voice took a softer edge, a gentle note evident in it. “Promise me that you will never…”

Too lost in his eyes, you didn’t hear him. His voice and every other noise faded to the background, your sole focus being on his eyes. They were pulling you in, drowning you in them. Like a siren luring an unsuspecting victim.

Your lips parted slightly, as you kept staring at him, his warm breath fanning your face. He swallowed hard, realizing exactly how close you were. The adrenaline pumping in his veins was fucking with his head, thoughts of what your lips would feel like against his filling his mind. His eyes flickered down to your parted lips, the urge growing, before they quickly darted back up to your eyes, meeting your gaze once again. “Promise me.”

The words seemed to be stuck in your throat, which suddenly felt parched. “I…”

His breath hitched, eyes fixed on your parted lips once again. His heart was still racing, the world seeming to narrow down to just the two of you, standing flush together on the roof. “You…” He whispered, leaning just a fraction closer without realizing it. “You what?” It came out softer than intended, just a barely audible murmur.

You swiped your tongue over your bottom lip, wetting it with your saliva. The words tumbled out of your mouth, without you even realizing it. “God, you’re so pretty…”

Woonhak’s world seemed to stop, his mind going blank. His grip on your waist tightened slightly. “What did you say?” He whisper-hissed, leaning just a tad bit closer. His gaze flickered down to your lips again. The shift in the atmosphere around the two of you was becoming impossible to ignore, becoming electric with unsaid words and unacted-upon impulses.

You blinked, biting down on your lip. There was no going back now. “You’re pretty…”

His heart skipped a beat, then another, then another. He could barely believe what he was hearing — no one had ever called him ‘pretty’ before. Sure, he had heard other words: handsome, attractive, stunning, eye-catching — but ‘pretty’? Never did he hear that one before. But damn, he would be lying if he said it didn’t make his heart race — probably more than the other praises ever did. It was a word typically reserved for women, but hearing it from you directed towards him? It made his brain short-circuit.

He asked you again, just to confirm. “Pretty?”

You nodded, no longer scared of his reaction. “Very much so.”

He felt his cheeks flush again at the unusual comment. He was blushing, and he never blushed. But everything seemed to be different when he was around you.

His mind was reeling, as he tried to process this new information. You, his best friend, thought he was pretty. He leaned even closer, his lips just a hair breath away from yours now. “You really think I’m pretty?” He whispered, his voice just barely audible.

You gulped, nodding. “Yea — yea, I do.”

His heart started pounding rapidly in his chest, his breathing shallow. He could feel the heat radiating off your body, the closeness of your lips, the way you were looking up at him. It was starting to all fade out into white noise, the sound of his rapidly beating heart in his ears. His eyes zeroed in on your parted lips, and something in him snapped.

Throwing all rational thought out of the window, he closed the barely there gap between your both, softly pressing his lips to yours. Your lips were as soft as a cloud, feeling pillowy against his. The kiss was brief, barely more than a whisper. It was nothing more than a peck, but it was enough to make his heart jump out of his chest, into his throat. When he pulled back, his eyes were as wide as saucers, surprised by his own boldness. “I–”

You didn’t let him complete his sentence. You grabbed his face, cupping it with both hands, pulling his face towards yours again. You kissed him again, with a lot more vigour, pouring out your pent up feelings into the kiss.

He was caught off guard by the sudden intensity of the kiss, but he melted into it. His hands pulled you even closer, as if trying to meld your body into his. He parted his lips, deepening the kiss, as he felt your arms wrap around his neck, pulling you even closer.

One of his hands came up to your face, cupping it, tilting his own to further deepen the kiss. The lack of air was starting to hurt, despite how addicting your lips were. He pulled back slowly, not before gently biting down on your bottom lip, pulling it between his teeth, before letting go of it with a pop.

You felt a little dazed, but still smiled up at him, your eyes slightly hazy and unfocused. He chuckled at your state, planting a kiss on top of your head. “Pretty, huh?”

Your cheeks grew warmer at the teasing undertone in his voice. “Shut up. I meant it, you know.”

His grin grew wider, as he kissed your cheek. “I know. I hope this is a good time to say that I like you? Like, I really fucking like you, I was just scared to confess because of the recent situation… with the excessive teasing and all… and, well, the fear of rejection.”

You hit his arm. “You silly goose — if I didn’t like you back, do you think I would behave the way I do with you? Absolutely not. You’re lucky I put up with your antics, you know.”

He rolled his eyes, although there was a smile on his face, one which he didn’t bother hiding. “You know, the hair tie was just a ploy? I just wanted any potential suitors to back off of you, but I didn’t expect people to react like… that.”

You let out a giggle. “I figured. It was honestly a really cute, albeit smart move on your part. Certainly made everyone back off… only to approach us with a different reason.”

He smiled down at you, his expression utterly lovesick. His eyes were practically resembling hearts. “D’you think if we announced it officially they would finally stop?”

You shrugged. “Probably not. Hopefully yes. But — in order to make it official, you need to ask me first, you know? Learn to be a gentleman, Woonhak.” The last bit was just you teasing him, something that he caught on to pretty quickly.

He playfully rolled his eyes, before speaking theatrically. “Fine — would you like to do the honour of becoming my girlfriend, ___? Wait no, scratch that — would you make me the happiest man alive by letting me take the position of your boyfriend?”

You scoffed in amusement at his dramatics, before pretending to think. “Take me out on a date first, then I will think of it.”

He gave you a smug grin, a determined glint in his eyes. “Deal.”

456 notes · View notes

prael · 7 months ago

Text

Delicacy

ILLIT Moka x male reader smut

Happy (kinda late) Moka Day!

Masterlist word count: 5,401 Kofi(donations/commissions)

"Ladies and-a gen-entleman! Step right up! Ge-get yourself a-a mystical item today!" The old Murgo's voice is loud, his tone is jovial. His accent is hard to understand and his stuttering speech patterns would indicate a man who is not well-educated, though you've always expected he puts it all on for show.

His skin is scruffy, full of moles and unkempt facial hair that creeps down to his thin neck. The elderly man's uniform consists of a long, purple-sleeved coat—sleeves that fall every time he waves an arm at the next item he tries to flog.

"Y-you sir! Consider this, this is truly a-a magical mirror, for as long as you lo-look into it, it will make you b-beautiful." He smiles at the group before him, pearly white teeth contrasting with his murky skin colour. They are the only noteworthy things about him, other than his height, a whole foot smaller than the usual man.

The rough-looking labourer by your side mumbles, "What a crock of shit!"

While the bald man at the front calls "I'll take it!"

Murgo, as Murgo so often does, announces the catch, "Very wise pu-purchase. Now, just remember, the m-magic only works if you look a-at in complete darkness."

Murgo collects his due payment and the man at your side shakes his head as he turns away. "Idiots," he grumbles before he walks away.

"You there!" Murgo singles you out. "Do you fancy trying a-anything?" He asks you with a smile.

Murgo's entire stall is packed full of oddities, and none of them are ever what they seem. You may not believe in Murgo's little items, but it's always interesting to come and see what he has to sell today. It's nice to consider his fantastical excuses and embellishments.

"M-may I interest you in a fan-antasy?" He sing-songs. "You must ha-have a wish to make come true? Consider this ma-magical music box! One wish! M-Make it come true!" He boasts about another silly item, something that always leaves you rolling your eyes. Wishes cannot be bought.

"Tha-that's a look of uncertainty. Well, how about this." Murgo holds out a hand containing a single chocolate. A perfect, colourful item shaped like a square. "Gen-entleman, please m-may I present, a most magical item to y-your attention! A chocolate! Bu-but not any chocolate! They say this one tastes of m-mocha, and its ingestion a-allows you to live a fantasy."

You scrunch your brow.

"Ingested fantasies might seem an im-impossibility, but I have p-proven through a rigorous scientific process..."

You know he's lying, as always, but you're not about to interrupt though. You doubt the old man actually has much training in anything even related to science, and everything about him can only lead you to believe that he doesn't own many resources to test things on anyway.

"...so, sir, I urge you!" Murgo finishes his meaningless rambling by saying, "Try and taste your fondest dream. Try the ma-magical wonder and live a dream so real, so plausible that y-you'll forget who you are!"

Live a dream so real... He's definitely lying, but you are curious as to the taste of his chocolate.

Your eyes switch from Murgo's insistent, excited stare to his chocolate, and back to Murgo's knowing smile. "Just this once," you tell him.

You sit at your kitchen table, staring at the little rectangular block that rests on the wood.

"A fantasy, huh?" you contemplate. You lean in close and give it a sniff; it certainly smells like chocolate, with a hint of mocha.

Shrugging, you hold up the chocolate and drop it into your mouth. Immediately, it melts away and you're overpowered by the delicious flavour. It's milk chocolate, but you find hints of cocoa and coffee mixed between your lips.

You chew a few times and then swallow. At that moment, Murgo's words ring around your mind. 'Live a dream so real,' they repeat.

You sit and you wait. Staring expectantly at the table, you blink blankly at the slab where the chocolate once rested. You tap your fingers. You scratch the back of your neck. And still, nothing.

"Wow." You shake your head, chastising yourself for thinking so optimistically, and push out the chair.

As you stand, your head spins. The world about you warps into another form, a dark space resembling nothing you have ever seen.

The ground crunches beneath your feet. Gravel, perhaps? Black grazes at the surface, but you can't quite make out any details. As if a curtain has fallen to obscure your vision.

You spin around and wave your hands to find a purchase with something.

And then you feel it. Feel... her?

Small, smooth hands in your own. They let go before too long, and then those hands brush up your forearms.

A shadowed girl—clearly a girl by her soft curves—gently touches your cheek, and you grab her hand again. A soft gasp escapes her, and then she giggles. "Do you know how hard it's been, to be stuck inside a piece of chocolate? Of course, you don't. Why would you?"

This... isn't real. Could you be dreaming? Could you be high, or drunk, or passed out? Perhaps poisoned? You bring your fingers to your face to ensure you're not gushing blood or anything odd. Nope, normal. Completely and utterly normal, so... what the hell?

She whispers as her fingers move along the waistband of your pants, "Did you like the taste of the chocolate? Of... Moka?" She laughs. "My name is Moka, do you understand? Mocha and Moka!"

She has the cutest laugh. Soft, genuine, and one that leaves you smiling. Smiling? You ask yourself what you're doing and how you possibly ended up with some mysterious woman pawing your crotch. Regardless, you answer.

"Yeah," you say, her laugh encouraging you to express honesty. "Definitely not a bad product at all."

"Of course not!" Moka cheers. You catch a glimpse of a smile in the shadows that surround her. "After all, I was made with all the finest ingredients to give a taste that absolutely anyone can enjoy! And you're no exception, are you?" Moka's weight presses against you, and she leans close to your ear to murmur, "This little bump in your pants proves that."

You let out a sharp breath, but no denial. Moka may be shrouded in darkness, but you don't have trouble appreciating her presence. You can feel the warmth from her body, her rounded breasts that are all too tempting to touch.

"I'm so confused..." you whisper.

"Good." With the utterance of one word, you see the brightness of a smile. How wonderful and expressive her face is. The darkness clears and the mystery goes with it. The girl in front of you can only be described as utterly breathtaking. She's wearing this smile that turns up a little more on one side of her mouth than the other, and you're absolutely enchanted by its beauty. There's this beauty mark on her nose, such a cute mole. And then her eyes... you could very happily lose yourself within them.

"So incredibly confused," you repeat, and watch with fascination as a lock of her dark hair slips past a black strip and over her flushed cheek.

Moka kisses you. A gentle, testing peck, but there's no time for timid, because she pounces, and suddenly you're drowning under her affection. Kissing her like this is all you can think about, and the way she tangles her small tongue around your own is wildly erotic, both innocent and sinful at the same time.

You are too complacent, but then Moka brings her body flush against yours. You don't know where she came from, you have no idea why she's here and what's going on, but your body is certainly not questioning that right now. Her lithe form under your touch is as smooth as the chocolate she came from.

"Take me," she all but purrs, "It's what I'm here for."

"But you're..."

"Not real? A fantasy? Exactly. That's all the reason you need to let go," she whispers and there is a clarity that brings her words like truth.

Real or not, you can't deny it. You want her, this exotic enigma. You tug her close, fingers tracing a curve, your lips following a line. Her body, her skin, you adore her. Every facet, every inch, you crave her. You take hold of Moka and lift her, she lets out the gentlest of squeaks but instantly wraps her legs around you, and just the sound and feeling of her draws a shudder out of you.

"I spent months in Murgo's storage, just waiting for someone like you. Every single day growing more and more frustrated as I waited. You can't imagine being that pent up, can you?"

She's taking off your shirt. Impatiently running her hands down your torso, like she can't get enough. You stumble until you plant her against the wall, holding her firm and kissing her with all the frustration she feels, biting and sucking and leaving her breathless.

Moka wraps her arms around your neck, curling her heels, pulling you close.

"I can't imagine it, but you don't have to wait for another second though." You squeeze at her taut thighs, making her whimper with delight.

"Taste me," she whispers and you take your lips to her neck. It's not exactly what she has in mind, but she knows it's inevitable. All roads lead between her thighs.

So you fall to your knees before her. Hands up her thighs, driving up the frills of her skirt. She's a delicacy, soft and pink, beautiful, just waiting to be savoured. And the moment your lips touch the inside of her thigh, she gasps, one palm smacking the wall behind her. The tension, the excitement, the breathless little whimpers that escape her, every little thing, has you completely engrossed.

The whole time you press a barrage of kisses against her thighs, moving closer to her core with each passing second, but the light, teasing kisses draw a litany of frustration out of her.

"P-please..." Moka whimpers.

The breath from her plea leaves her in a shudder. She huffs, already trembling. You test how wet she is with your fingers, feeling her damp warmth, her sticky arousal coating your digits. You're unable to resist running your fingertips up the folds of her pussy, using the natural slickness to help move, dancing around her clit and drawing cries from the breathless girl. Her pleasure is plain to see, the rising blush reaching her chest and the deep breaths escaping her.

You slide a single finger inside her, then quickly two, slowly finger fucking her pretty pink, twisting around and feeling her wrap around you.

"You like it?" you murmur and it's not like you could call anything happening now an act of romance, but you turn your head and kiss her thigh. Such a tender moment is shared despite the sordid acts.

Moka huffs, her fingers clinging to your shoulder. "I need it." She sputters, moaning and thrusting down to meet your slow motions. "Oh... It's so good..."

"It's about to get even better," you say.

You lap your tongue along the seeping moisture of her beautiful cunt, and you lick over her slick folds and lap up everything she has to offer. With deep, intense licks, you give her pussy the attention she's been begging for.

"Ahh! Oh, yes!" she shrieks, falling back against the wall and panting with pleasure.

The sweetness of her nectar assaults you, and your tongue finds the little spot that has her moaning each time you lick near it. Faster and faster you circle her clit, watching as her knees quiver and twitch. Closer and closer, your tongue working her into a frenzy.

"More... I-I... yes, don't stop!" she cries, pulling your face against her. She wants more, she won't wait, and she twists and tangles her fingers into your hair, pushing and grinding her dripping sex against you. "Can you imagine it? I was made for pleasure. To give and receive, only to be forced to hide away, all alone? To suffer every day, tortured by my need?"

Moka whimpers and struggles to keep her breath even. You must want to do something about that, don't you?

You grab her thighs, lifting her off the ground and shifting your hands under her, grabbing her soft, plump ass cheeks. She cries at the movement, but then her legs are wrapped around your shoulders, clutching you to her desperately. You eat her little pussy out furiously, ravaging her drenched folds as she cries out, screams filling the room as you pick up the pace. Your tongue dances around her clit, your fingers sinking deeply into the soft flesh of her cute little ass.

"Oh god... I can't stop myself," her desperate cries fill the room.

You cannot deny this girl, even if you wanted to, so you devour her sweet cunt, and watch as her eyes close, the pleasure becoming too much as her body explodes with euphoric release. She screams, desperately riding your face, her entire body quivering and twitching as she cums. The juices drip down your chin as she rides the wave of intense bliss, rolling her hips, indulging in it, prolonging it for as long as she can.

Finally, the surge of her overwhelming orgasm ends, but she slumps, nearly lifeless in your grasp. You struggle to keep her up, and she keeps trying to grind her sensitive folds against you, but her exhaustion finally hits her. So you take her, back in your arms, and toward your kitchen table.

There she lays, shaking and sweating, struggling to catch her breath, and you want nothing more than to pry her delicate figure from that dress. You strip her, your mouth kissing every newly exposed surface of her perfect body.

"This is how things should have been, how life should have been," Moka mumbles, her dark hair swirling beneath her as she lays across your table. Her sweet skin comes into sight and you can't help running your hands along the feminine curve of her stomach. Her perfect breasts fit in the palms of your hands and you trace circles around her taut nipples as she sighs happily.

You undress, and she watches, pulling her lower lip between her teeth. Her expression is suddenly guilty, as though admiring a man naked isn't something a girl should do. But you caress her face, she's your beautiful enchantress, and that moment of hesitation seems to pass as she leans into the palm of your hand. Her eyes shimmer with acceptance, and she's accepting of all the dirty things she's thinking, all the things she's about to say. "I...I want you inside me," she whispers.

Your cock is erect and eager, so hard, aching, throbbing with the desire to know her warmth, and you line yourself with the wetness between her legs.

Gently, you lean forward, pressing the tip against her tightness. "Are you ready?"

"For however long I've waited," she breathes.

She's quivering under you, full of tension, gripping the edge of the table tightly. The expression on her face is so vulnerable, open and raw, so beautiful. Her chest rises and falls with her need, and there's a hunger burning in her, a fire begging to be ignited.

"Please," Moka begs.

"Gentle..." you tell her, though who it's meant for, you're not entirely sure. But you take a deep breath and ease into her slickness.

She gasps, her grip around the side of the table tightening. It takes a moment, but she grows accustomed, her tension dissipates and her trembling is overcome. She laughs, and the sound is nothing short of stunning. Chime-like, the light, airy melody fills the room as she touches herself. Cupping her supple breasts, and tugging her pink nipples, she indulges in her lust and rocks gently against your hard shaft.

"Fuck away my lusts. Fill the void, be the man I've needed so badly," her sweet voice begins to sing with pleasure, her pitch rising.

Her cunt is so warm and inviting, so wet, stretching tightly around you as you pump back and forth. Wet noises sound with every pass. Moka's eyes glaze over and her legs wrap around your waist, pulling you even deeper.

Your thrusting finds a comfortable, easy rhythm, and soon your hips are slapping eagerly against her every time you push in. Wet noises fill the air each time you drive into her deepest parts.

"God, yes..." her desperation only heightens, "Use me, please. Don't stop, fuck me."

"How could I ever?" you pant, both leaning in, sucking the taste of her chocolate mouth, twirling her tongue, drinking her intoxicating exhales.

She's a dream, this girl is made for indulgence. Her arms hook under yours, hands grasping your shoulders, digging into your back, desperate for some way to anchor herself. You want to touch every part of her, soak up her delicious little whimpers and commit them to memory. As your breath runs ragged and your heart pounds in your chest, nothing other than her is present in your mind. Nothing else matters. She is the pure embodiment of desire.

As the feverish motion speeds up, her soft breasts bounce and her entire body shimmers. Sweat glistens along her slender form and you push her to limits she's never known. Her cries run longer and louder until she's screaming, moaning your name, muttering incoherent praise.

"Moka..." you whisper her name, lacing her with what little you can say with a mind lost in the overwhelming bliss of her body.

It isn't long before your rhythm begins to break down. A rising and falling beat, speeding and slowing, stuttering with your every breath. She's drowning with you, and yet floating all at once. Latching onto you, refusing to let go. Desperate, clamping tightly onto you as you enter her deeper with each sharp thrust.

Panting, drenched, bodies so close. Your hard, feverish heat, her spiking lust, colliding with explosive fervour as you surge forward, burying yourself inside her and grunting as you shudder.

Unbridled and relentless, the swelling heat pulses through you and down your length. Rippling through her, filling her cunt, pouring into her. Her cries peak alongside yours. She shudders and shakes as your pulsing cock pumps a shockwave of ecstasy through her.

Delirious laughter escapes her when her rolling euphoria subsides, and her satisfied smile when she strokes her hand down your hot chest... everything about her... the delight of satisfaction washes through her.

Just what was that? That woman made you feel desires you could never imagine possible. Never could you have imagined something would make you feel as if you were flying.

Never could you imagine her.

And yet here she is.

"Can we..." she seems uncertain now, nervous, unsure.

You take her hands and kiss them. A delicate display of adoration that causes her nervous smile to transform into something happier, more certain. "What is it, Moka?"

She presses her finger to her lower lip, searching for the right words. "We can do this again, can't we?"

You can't resist chuckling at the blush that reaches her chest and the shy way she turns her head.

"Of course," you say.

Now you understand, even if vaguely, what happened and how things came to be; your actions and hers.

But, as always, the question remains... can a fantasy ever stay?

Moka is sitting outside on the small porch of your humble home. Fond memories occupy your thoughts; nights filled with bliss; mornings spent listening to her joyous voice.

"Are you having doubts?" she asks, unable to meet your gaze.

You sigh and rest against the rail. Her feelings are difficult to understand sometimes, but you have this odd connection, as if an invisible bridge exists between you, allowing you to feel her as she can you. She wants your happiness, you know that, she craves it, and yet...

"Will you stay?" you ask her quietly, a little afraid of the answer.

The setting sun casts pink across the sky. From the lush valley, there's a stream that cuts across the landscape, shaded by the greenery, broken only by the towering tree that stands tall in the distance. Its wide leaves filter the sunlight, casting gentle patterns in the trickling water. It really is such a peaceful place to live.

You stand and enjoy the moment. Fresh air, the calming simplicity of nature.

"I'm sorry," Moka's voice is only a whisper, "I don't know the limits of the magic that brought me here. If I stay, would I be stuck as a human? If I leave your side, would I ever be able to return? It's as much of a mystery to me as it is to you."

"Should I ask Murgo?"

"That fool? He didn't even know the chocolate was really magic. No," her voice grows firmer, "Don't trust the words of that merchant." Her hands clutch tightly at her knees, "I do have this feeling. I can't quite explain it, but, I've been feeling it since you first tasted me."

"Feeling?"

"A pulling—a tug—toward you, away from you too," she says. "Magic, desires, loneliness... maybe they've been woven together. I can't be sure."

"Not sure I understand."

"I feel it now. There's this need to be satisfied. And when I'm not, it feels like the magic will just tear me away."

You push away from the railing and step towards her. She's sitting, knees pulled against her chest, wearing nothing more than a white linen gown. Seeing her so small...

"So, if I just satisfy you..." You reach out and gently brush your knuckles along her soft cheek. Moka leans into your touch, her deep brown eyes gazing up. Your fingertips push through her silky dark hair and cup her delicate chin. As she stares at you, you can feel the deep, yearning emotion within her. "Then you will stay with me."

"I think—"

You interrupt her with a kiss. Softly locking your lips, bringing her comfort. Just a moment, simple tenderness. Then passion, as you open your mouth and taste the pure sugar of her tongue. Slipping around yours, her hot exhale, her warmth, both erotic and meaningful.

You can only pull away by taking her with you, pulling her up from the chair. Eagerly, Moka smiles and steps into your arms. Squeezing her tight, holding her around the waist, breathing her scent, feeling the tension inside yourself. She kisses you back with the same intensity, lips tight on yours, warm and dripping as they open, teasing you with her sweet taste.

You stumble back towards the railing, bodies entwined. Tilting your head, her chocolate flavour can make anyone addicted. Kissing her, nipping, sucking, biting her lip. Sinking into her warmth, her body. Lifting the hem of her short gown, running your fingers along the silky skin of her thighs. She arches back into the wooden railing, and you break apart the kiss as she sinks into the support behind her.

You take hold of her shoulders and turn her. She braces against the railing and leans forward, showing off that inviting, delicate shape. Between the arch of her back and the curve of her cute ass, she begs to be taken. And that thin linen may as well not even be there; it's so taut, so transparent.

You move behind her. In the fading light of the evening, the shadows reveal more than they hide. Lifting the cloth and leaving her bare. Running your hands down the lines of her hips and sides, your fingers lightly trace back up her ribs and finally, you cup one of her light breasts. Her nipple presses into the palm of your hand, and she's so sensitive, arching at even the slightest touch.

She looks back at you, her eyes longing, knowing what comes next. Spreading your fingers down between her legs, you run them along the slick, wet flesh waiting for you. She's already ready, dripping, and your fingertips only tease her. Bending, lining up your rigid cock against her wetness. You place your other hand on her hip and ready yourself, preparing to push forward.

"I'll never grow tired of this," you say.

Moka looks back at you, blushing, hair over her face as she tries to look through the veil. Before she can respond, you push, and she lets out a sharp cry at being filled. With her firmly held, you slide in and out of her dripping cunt. It's not a frantic, hurried pace, but deep, intense thrusts that give Moka what she needs—give her relief.

"Ah! That's so deep... so deep."

Her moans spill out without restraint. Such a vibrant voice, full of the lusts she's harbouring. Holding her firmly, plunging deeper and faster, her tiny pussy wrapping tightly around you. Wet, slippery squishing echoes through the empty air. Slaps sounding with every time your crotch strikes hers. It's all so lewd and brings you ever closer, keeps driving you.

The deeper her chest falls, the more she arches, and a deep moan escapes as her body shakes. Her orgasm comes strong, fast, and powerful, making her legs quake and her voice stutter. But you hold her and keep fucking. Slipping against her back, clinging to her waist, burying your face in her hair. Her trembling sex tenses and flexes and still she moans, incoherently telling you just how good it feels.

You've lost track of the number of times you've filled her tight cunt in the past few days, so this is just another one of many. She loves it, though; loves feeling you pour so deeply inside her. She'll do anything to feel it. So you fill her. Firm thrusts as you pump her full of your cum, right there on the porch.

During the moments she spends staring out the window, you run your hand down Moka's back. She hums a little sound, appreciating the act, and snuggles into the blanket further.

"Cold? I could go get the fire going again if you like."

Moka stares blankly, fixated on a flower just outside the window. She blinks and laughs suddenly.

"Hm? Sorry, what did you say?"

You repeat what you said and she quickly responds.

"It's alright, but there's something I need you to do."

"What is it?"

"Lie on the bed, let me ride you. I want to feel you fill me. I need it." She reaches a hand up and cradles her own breast, grasping at it and squeezing the supple mound.

It's getting worse—her constant need. Like an itch, she says. Something has to constantly be done to keep it from being painful. It's barely been two hours since you were last inside her, and it seems to be the only thing she can think about.

"Please. I just need a little more..."

You can't bring yourself to deny her. Not when she looks at you like that. So you stumble backwards, pulling her naked form along with you, and ungracefully land on your back. Already you're growing hard, just from looking up at her dainty body and recalling all the wonderful acts you have performed and thinking of what is yet to come.

Moka runs her hand through her hair and gazes downward, a serene look washing over her delicate features.

"Smiling suits you," you tell her.

Again, you watch her eyes light up at that little kind of praise. "Thank you," she says, blushing as she clambers across the bed to kneel above you. She fixes her knees on either side of your hips and runs her palms over your chest, teasing your body as her breasts sway before you.

"Oh..." she purrs as she rocks back and forth, rubbing her bare sex up and down your length. "Oh, yes..."

You hum with delight, but remain still for a moment, listening to the happy sounds she's making, letting her indulge in the simple foreplay.

Eventually, she can take it no longer. "Here..." She lifts herself with her thighs and wraps a single hand around your hardened cock, steadying it and gripping tight. With a single gasp, she guides you inside her. Her moisture envelops you and she's so tight, the way her pussy seems to suck you in all the way to the base. But once you reach that far point, you both let out a loud moan of satisfaction. She's got all of you, every last inch of your shaft has found its home inside her.

Moka rests there for a moment, staring down with these innocent, almost vulnerable brown eyes. From the soft feeling of her velvety interior and the cute, lewd look of her blissful face, you can't help yourself, and buck up into her, plunging even further in. She lets out a gasp and stumbles forward, catching herself on your chest.

"I'm sorry! Are you alright?" you ask.

The dark-haired girl giggles—something that pleases you more than you can describe—and returns to that dainty smile. She pulls her hips and then drives them against you, before groaning, "More than alright."

Moka finds her rhythm. Rolling and grinding her hips, each motion punctuated by her spiking arousal. Her small cunt welcomes the friction, drips with desire. You grip her waist, helping her balance as she bounces in your lap, pushing herself harder and faster each time. She pushes harder, taking more of you, and soon she's crying out your name, begging you to fill her with everything you have.

Her gorgeous form rocks above you. Thrusting vigorously, her little breasts barely bouncing in a way that you can't take your eyes away from. Moka digs her nails into your chest. Her moans and cries grow increasingly desperate.

"You're amazing," Moka moans through her pleasure, voice quivering and trembling with it.

You can feel her clenching tighter and tighter, her insides quaking as she begs, and pleads for release. It brings your climax close, and despite the urgency of her pleasure, she maintains a controlled rhythm. Not so fast as to short-circuit things, keeping you on the very edge of euphoria.

"God, I love the way you..." she exclaims as a bright flush blossoms across her face. She sinks her teeth into her lower lip, muting her sound.

"What?" you struggle to speak as her slick folds wrap so tightly around you.

You don't know what it is, but something catches her attention. Her movements slow and she's searching, somehow peering through the dark outside. The noise has stopped too, usually at night there's a cacophony of singing insects and rustling, fluttering wings, but now nothing. No wind or creak or creasing leaf. Quiet. Dead quiet.

Moka slips off of your cock and crawls backwards to the end of the bed.

"What is it?" you ask.

Moka's lips twitch. Anxiety sets in over her features and she steps away from the bed, toward the window. Moonlight kisses her skin, the pale rays dancing on her shadowy form. Your heart falters and you realise... you really do want her here. Like this. Always.

"Moka?"

A strong gust blows and the window swings open. Her silky hair whips against her face, catching on her lips. She raises her hand, fingers hovering lightly in the moonlight. You remain motionless in fear of breaking whatever is occurring. Nothing feels right, not a single thing. As if the fabric of reality has been slashed in two.

The wind howls. The lights flicker and the fireplace across the room somehow brings itself to light. She turns to face it and the flames illuminate Moka's eyes. They glow a pale violet, the hue all wrong, ghostly. A tremble comes over her, and she says just five words. The last five words you'll ever hear from her.

"I'm sorry. I'll miss you."

Her hand turns to dust. The grains reflect the moon as they blow out of the window. You watch as the rest of her body follows, leaving only the imprint of where she once stood.

Time moves slowly—too slowly—like your heart, which can't beat. Something has broken, something in you, though not a sound passes through your lips. Tears stream from your eyes. The pain, the sorrow, the emptiness—it all feels irreparable. You can't bear it, and without a single word, without a single sound, the world goes black.

#Moka smut #kpop smut #male reader #kpop fanfic #m reader #Illit smut #kpop fanfiction #Moka x reader #smut #sakai moka

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cimmanonrowl · 9 months ago

Text

Gods & Monsters

Part One | Chapter Navigation

Pairing: aaron hotchner x criminal daughter!reader

Theme: smut heaven

Contents: age gap, forbidden relationship, unprotected rough sex, creampie, begging, innocence kink, rutting, somnophilia, a little cnc and panicking, dirty talk, pure filth, sir & daddy (only used thrice) kink, dom/sub undertones, innocent!reader, vague to inaccurate crime and law enforcement details

You woke up in the middle of the night. As you always have in the past few weeks. The room was covered in darkness; with only the faint sliver of moonlight filtering through the curtains. And in every gentle blow of the wind, the white fabric on the open veranda door sways in a mellow rhythm.

You pulled the covers up to your chest and rolled to your side, your heart hammering a little faster as you reached your phone on the bedside table and unlocked it.

No reply.

Your last message to Aaron, sent hours ago, still marked as unread.

You stared quietly at the screen, your eyes tracing over the last words you sent. It was just something simple: a question about his day, followed by a smiley face, light and casual. You were bored earlier so you decided to reach out to him. You even sent him a picture of the chocolate cookies you baked... but to no avail.

He’s probably just busy, you caught yourself saying in your head. The thought was firm with no edge or flicker of doubt. Aaron has his own life, a tedious job, and his own things to deal with. You knew that. Maybe he got caught up with work again, or he’s out with his team, or maybe he’s just tired; too exhausted to do anything but fall into the comfort of his bed and sleep.

Or maybe he simply doesn’t feel the need to reply to your unimportant message.

Your mouth felt dry with that thought. And the silence of the night pressed stealthily against your ears.

Milk. That was enough to draw you out of bed, your feet touching the cool wooden floor with a soft thud. The mansion was still— the kind of quiet that would usually lull you back to sleep. Usually, this meant your father and his men were out for a business matter. Sometimes, Father dear was just too hung up on alcohol and drugs that he forgot to come home at a decent time.

Quietly, you pushed open your bedroom door, careful not to let the hinges creak too loudly. The mansion in which you recently just moved into was heavily guarded just like the past ones.

You stepped into the hallway. Even though it’s only been a couple of months, every painting and corner of the dimly lit hallway was familiar to your senses. You expect to be the only one awake in your household, aside from the night guards. The kitchen would be empty as always.

But halfway there, a sound caught your ear— a murmur, low and indistinct, drifting from your father’s office.

You halted in your tracks, your ears perking at the noise. The door to your father’s office was slightly ajar, a thin sliver of light cutting through the darkness of the hallway. The murmur becomes clearer as you inched closer— three, maybe four voices, deep and serious, punctuated by the occasional clink of glasses.

“We fucking need it done by tomorrow,” one voice complained, rough around all the edges. “The delays are making them antsy.”

“Do you fucking think I don’t know that? Tell those motherfuckers to wait.”

You froze.

The other voices, they’re strangers to you. But you recognize that voice immediately. Your father’s unmistakable deep and commanding one. Yet you were used to this, used to crossing paths with different vile men your father worked with.

“What about the feds?” another voice asked. “They’ve been sniffing around more than usual.”

There was a low and dangerous chuckle that sent a shiver down your spine. “Let them. They won’t find anything.”

“The fuck you mean let them? Are you seriously still convinced that you don’t have a mole in this hellhole?”

Then there was a pause, the kind that felt like everyone was holding their breath. They know about the mole. Of course, they do. They’ve never had delays in their operations such as this before. Only an idiot would count it as a mere coincidence.

You leaned in, your ear almost touching the door, careful not to let it move even a fraction.

“All of your operations were interrupted by the feds.”

You heard the scrape of a chair against the floor, and then the clink of a glass being set down. “I don’t think it’s my men you should be poking your nose about. What about your men?”

“Are you fucking saying that my me–”

“What about the witness?” the first voice intercepted, quieter now, as if the words themselves are too dangerous to speak aloud.

“Taken care of,” your father replied with a sharp sigh, his tone so cold it chills your blood. “Permanently.”

There was a murmur of approval from the others, and you can vividly picture them nodding in agreement. Maybe even smiling. You pressed closer, trying to make sense of it all, but your thoughts were a tangled mess of fear and confusion.

“How much are we expecting on this one again?” another man asked, his voice gruff and heavy with tobacco smoke.

“Enough to keep everyone happy,” your father replied. “This is our last big score for this month. After that, we lie low for the meantime.”

There was another pause, and you heard the rustle of papers, the sound of something being slid across the table. “It’s all here,” your father muttered. “Everything we need. We move three nights from now.”

“Three nights?” the second voice echoed, surprised. “Why not tomorrow?”

“Yes,” there was no mistaking the steel in your father’s voice. “Because I said so.”

Every muscle in your body tensed as the meeting continued. They speak in half sentences, in code words, as if they know someone might be listening.

And then, as suddenly as it began, there was a sudden scraping of chairs, a loud cough, followed by the sound of feet moving. They were wrapping up, and you realized with a jolt that you need to move.

The stairs were just a few steps away. You could bolt downstairs and go straight to the kitchen as you intended. But instead, you slipped back into your room, closing the door silently behind you, and wished that the silence of the night would lull you back to another restless sleep.

When morning finally came, warm light filtered through the thin curtains and into your room. Bones popped beneath the covers as you stretched, your mind foggy with sleep. Yet you forced yourself to sit up, the blankets sliding off your shoulders.

For a moment, you contemplated reaching your phone and sending a message to Aaron. You couldn’t wait to tell him about everything you heard last night. But with the faint sound of footsteps in the hallway outside your room, you thought your information could wait until after breakfast.

You pad softly to your closet, slipping into a pair of fluffy pink slippers before making your way out of the room. You were still wearing your nightdress, a soft, pale blue cotton gown that fell just below your knees. It looked delicate, with a lace trim at the neckline, something you have had for ages. The fabric clung lightly to your skin with every move, the morning air cool against your bare arms.

When you passed by your father’s office, your thoughts immediately drifted back to the conversation you overheard last night. It felt distant now, almost like a dream, but there was this familiar tension in your chest that you knew all those things had happened.

“Morning, sweetheart,” your father greeted you, his voice deep and steady as you stepped into the dining area. “Come, have some breakfast.”

He gestured to the empty chair beside him. Father dear and Harwin were already seated at the table. The dining room was bright with morning light, the smell of freshly brewed coffee mixing with the scent of eggs and toast. Your father sat at the head of the table as always, while Harwin sat across from him, his posture straight, his eyes immediately flicking up to you as you entered.

“Good morning,” you replied softly, forcing a smile as you approached the table.

You were aware of how you must look— the nightdress, the slightly tousled hair, the way the morning light catches on your skin. You seem almost ethereal, innocent. But there was nothing innocent about the way Harwin’s eyes followed you as you move. It was not leering, no. Not inappropriate either, but it was there— an intense, piercing look that made you acutely aware of every step you take.

You slipped into the chair next to your father, feeling Harwin’s gaze settled on you. His expression was carefully neutral, but you could sense the way he was assessing you, as if he was trying to see right through you.

“Good morning, Miss,” he greeted, his voice polite and almost formal. He offered you a small smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I hope you slept well.”

You nodded, and your hand trembled lightly as you reached for the glass of orange juice in front of you. “I did. Thank you, Harwin,” your voice was quiet as you replied, as if speaking any louder would shatter the fragile calm of the morning.

But even as you say it, you know it was not entirely true. The remnants of last night’s tension clung to you, making the hair at the back of your neck rise, your breathing almost heavy.

Your father cut into his toast in rough movements. “Harwin will be spending more time around the house,” he said casually, his tone leaving little room for you to react. “I have some business that’ll keep me away, and I want to make sure you’re looked after.”

Business.

Your stomach tightened at his words. You glanced at Harwin, who was still watching you with keen eyes. You know this wasn’t just about keeping an eye on the house— this is about you.

And the realization sent a shiver down your spine.

Harwin nodded in agreement with your father’s words, his gaze still fixed on you. “Just a precaution,” his tone was even, as if this was all perfectly normal, perfectly reasonable. “I’m here to make sure you’re safe.”

Safe. The word echoed in your mind. You know what it really means— under surveillance, monitored, controlled. It’s not protection. This is not about your safety; your father wants to keep you on a leash, and you can already feel it tightening around you.

The corner of your lips twitched as you gave him a smile. “Thanks, Harwin. I appreciate it,” you said instead, dropping your gaze to the plate in front of you.

Your father continued eating, his attention seemingly on his breakfast, but you knew better. He’s always watching, always aware, and now, with Harwin here, you know you are under a different kind of watch.

But, at least, Harwin was polite enough to keep his distance. Though you could always feel his gaze following you, measuring every step you take, every breath. For the entire day, your father’s orders became clear— Harwin was here more than to protect you. He was here to ensure you don’t stray, that someone will watch every move you make.

“Harwin,” you called out softly before glancing over your shoulder. “Do you think we can go to the mall later?”

He seemed unfazed by the request, silently watching you lay on a lounger by the poolside with an open book perched on your lap. “No, Miss. If you need anything, I can have some of your housemaids to shop for you.”

“But I want fresh air?”

“We’re outside at the moment, Miss.”

“Yes, in our garden.”

He frowned a little. “The air is fresh as far as I can tell, Miss.”

And with that, you heaved a deep sigh.

As the sun began to set, you found yourself in your room, your phone clutched in your hand. The events of the past hours have left you feeling trapped and cornered like a mouse. The walls of the house seemed to crumble in on you– it was suffocating.

You opened your messaging app, your fingers hovering over Aaron’s name. It’s been a day since he last responded, the silence from his end gnawing at you, but you couldn’t wait any longer. You need to see him. Besides, you have the information he surely needs. He would have no choice but to respond to your text this time.

Can we meet? you typed slowly, your heart pounding in your chest. You add the details quickly— I have the information. The usual spot?

You hesitated for a moment, your thumb hovering over the send button. But then you pressed it, the message shooting off into the void, your hope clinging to it like a lifeline.

The minutes ticked by in silence. Then your phone buzzed in your hand, with Aaron’s name lighting up the screen.

On my way, was all he said. And for some reason, it was enough. It has always been. So you sighed in relief and smiled to yourself.

Right then and there, you knew what you had to do next. Escaping Harwin’s notice won’t be easy, not with him and the other guards roaming the mansion, but you were determined. You have done it before, though never with this much at stake.

Taking a deep breath, you slipped on a pair of jeans and a hoodie, something that will help you blend in. You grabbed a small bag, stuffed it with a few essentials, then waited for the right moment to finally move.

The silence of your house made every step and the creaking of hinges amplified. From the window, you see one of the guards patrolling the perimeter, his flashlight cutting through the growing dusk. You know there was another by the front gate, and probably more stationed at various points around the property. Getting past them will be tricky, but you have mapped out a plan in your mind.

Harwin was downstairs. The front gate was obviously not an option, not with him and the guards so close. Instead, you decide on your usual route— through the back, where the bushes and trees provide more cover and the lamp posts are seldomly lit.

You waited until a house helper passed by outside your room, her back turned. You moved quickly and quietly down the hallway as you slipped out, sticking close to the walls to avoid any creaking floorboards. The house, large as it is, felt stifling.

With quick strides, you reached the back staircase, your heart pounding in your ears as you descended. The kitchen was just down the hall, and beyond that, the back door that leads to the garden. But you were not alone.

From where you were standing, you heard footsteps— another house helper, moving through the kitchen. You held your breath, peering around the corner just enough to see her pass by, her attention focused on checking the locks. She didn’t see you, didn’t know you were there, but you almost choked on your saliva as you bit your tongue.

As quickly as she moved on, you seized your chance. You slipped into the kitchen, the cool tile under your feet grounding you as you cross to the back door. Your hands shook in fear and panic as you unlocked it, praying it didn’t make too much noise.

And it didn’t.

The garden is shrouded in twilight as you step outside, the cool evening air hitting your face. And for a moment, you felt a rush of freedom. You can’t remember how many times you’ve done this before. But it never, ever felt easy. You doubt it will ever be.

You slipped through the gate, closed it carefully behind you, and took off running down the back alley. You didn’t stop running until you were several blocks away; your lungs burning, your legs aching. Only then do you allow yourself to slow down, and breathe.

It was almost a two-hour commute to the motel where you usually meet up with Aaron. The neon sign flickered in the dusk with a dull glow over the empty parking lot. You made your way to the room you know so well, pulling out the spare key Aaron gave you exactly a year ago.

Inside, the room was dimly lit, the thick curtains drawn shut. It was a modest place; a little different from the lavishness of your spacious room but you’ve loved this as much. With a soft thud, you dropped your bag on the floor and sat on the edge of the bed, your breath still coming in quick, shallow bursts. The silence here is different from the silence at home— this one feels familiar, and light.

You checked your phone quickly, hoping to see another message from Aaron, but there was nothing. A small pang of worry settled in your chest, but you pushed it aside. Aaron never broke his promise. He said he was coming, and you trust him. All you have to do is wait.

Your eyes started to droop as you lay down on the soft mattress, the adrenaline of your escape wearing off. You felt drained. Your legs aching. You curled up on your side, your phone clutched in your hand, waiting for the sound of his knock on the door.

But the minutes dragged by and your eyes fluttered shut, and before you knew it, after a long while, you fell into a deep slumber.

“Angel… fuck…” someone’s hot breath fanning over your ear roused you from the depth of your sleep. “You feel so good…”

You stirred and attempted to stretch your arms, even move your legs when all of a sudden, you felt it. The cold air licked the bare surface of your naked body. A low whine rumbled through your chest as you slowly, groggily so, blinked your eyes in confusion. Your vision was unfocused for a moment, sending you into a flight of panic as you grew aware of what was happening.

“Who-” the question was left hanging in the air as soon as Aaron’s thumb found your aching clit.

His hard cock was pressed against your desperate cunt, sliding through your wet folds at a rousing pace. A quiet gasp escaped your lips as he continued rutting his girthy cock against your swollen clit. You have no idea how he managed to undress you without waking you up. Although it didn’t surprise you, you’re still curious– about how expert and knowledgeable Aaron was with every sexual act. And right now, a thin sheet of sweat was slowly covering your body.

“Aaron– sir–” you whimpered once more, unknowingly bucking your hips to meet his desperate thrusts. “What… what are you doing?”

He let out a deep groan. “You look so sweet sleeping, angel… couldn’t… help myself…”

“Feels so good…” you mewled in return, feeling your dripping cunt clenching in pure desperation for something to fill it up.

The sensation was new and overwhelming. One of Aaron’s big and calloused hands was kneading your breast, pinching your sensitive and taut nipple every now and then. While his mouth was just as busy— his tongue more so; sucking and nibbling, and biting your nipple as his cock slid through the folds of your dripping pussy.

A growl rumbled through his chest.

“Can... can I slide in the tip…” he whispered in a gruff and breathy voice. It sounded vulnerable and demanding, and desperate at the same time. “Just the tip, angel. Hm? Just the tip, I promise...”

You nodded frantically, your hands gripping both of his strong arms propped at either side of your smaller frame. “Just the tip…”

“Fucking hell…” you heard him murmur as he lined the head of his big cock against the entrance of your fluttering cunt. “This is so wrong, angel, but fuck… I never wanted to ruin anyone so badly until you.”

“S-sir…”

His teeth sank lightly at the curve of your collarbone. “I’m going to fucking ruin you, you hear me? I want my cum dripping out of your tight cunt.”

You shivered at the vulgarity of his words. Maybe it was forbidden. Maybe this was wrong. Maybe this will not end up well. But maybe this is the reason why you can’t seem to get enough of it, of his warmth, and his cock ramming in and out of you.

“Aa- Sir!” you screamed loudly, dragging your nails along his arms, your toes curling in pure, white-hot pleasure.

Aaron peppered your cheeks, your lips, and your forehead with light kisses, murmuring his quiet apologies as he forced his big cock inside of you. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry, angel… I’m sorry…”

His promise now long forgotten as you felt the intoxicating burn of his cock stretching your tight cunt. You should’ve known better than to believe his promise.

“You look so good like this, gorgeous…” he whispered in your ear, his big hands roaming your body as if memorizing every corner of it. “Is this what you wanted, huh? Is this why you kept texting me? Can’t get enough of my big cock, little girl?”

You nodded abstractedly. “M-missed you… I missed this…”

Aaron’s lips tugged to a menacing smirk.

“Is my innocent angel turning into a dirty whore?” he taunted, halting his movement. You could feel his hard cock throbbing inside you, rubbing your walls just right. And when you didn’t answer his question, you felt a sharp slap at the side of your thigh. “Answer me, baby. Are you my whore now?”

“Yes, sir… yes… only for you…” unshed tears stung the corner of your eyes.

“Tell me how bad you want it, angel...” he sounded mocking, his voice light with arousal. “Beg for my cock— no, no, no. Don’t you fucking dare look away.”

You shook your head weakly. “D-daddy…”

A high-pitched whine escaped your lips as you felt him slowly dragging his cock out of you. Tears rolled down your cheeks in humiliation. Your legs clung to the back of his thighs in a desperate attempt, locking him in place. Aaron even had the nerve to chuckle as he saw your tears streaming down your pretty face.

“P-please… please… sir…” you said breathlessly. “I want your big cock, sir. Please… please fill me up with your cum…”

Aaron’s cock pulsated against your walls as he heard your words, your voice as sweet and gentle as he first heard it. He clenched his jaw and whispered tauntingly. “Yeah? Is that all you can say, angel?”

“I need it, please… Aaron… Sir… please… I’m a good girl…”

“Are you?” he perked one of his thick eyebrows before ramming his cock inside you once again, hitting a spot so deep you rolled your eyes.

“I- I am…” you nodded frantically, taking a fistful of the sheet in your hands. “I waited for you, sir. Only you. Your big cock… only you, Aaron…”

“Did you touch yourself while I’m away?”

You tried closing your thighs a little as you felt his thumb pressing light circles on your swollen clit. “I- I did, sir. Yes- I thought about your cock… I want your cock so bad…”

“And what did you think about, little girl?” he grunted, pounding his cock slowly and shallowly, his thumb still rubbing your sensitive nub.

Your legs shook as you felt your incoming orgasm. “How good you fuck me. Your cum inside m-me… I always dream of it, sir… before I go to bed… I always want to hear your voice.”

Aaron’s thick eyebrows tugged together as his focus narrowed down on giving you pleasure. His cock continued assaulting your warm cunt, hissing and grunting every time you clench deliciously around his cock. The sound of your loud moan and his heavy breaths intertwined together, your eyes rolling back with the intense pleasure of your upcoming orgasm.

“Please, please… sir, please… make me cum…” you whispered hoarsely, your voice full of desperation. “So close. ‘M so close.”

“Yeah, little girl? Cum for me, then…” his thrust became even more vigorous, firmer. “Show me how good girl you are, baby. Go on, angel.”

“Aaron!” his name came out a scream. “I’m coming! I’m com–”

Your vision blurred out as intensely your orgasm ripped through every fiber of your being. Your legs trembled and clamped shut, making Aaron growl in the tightness of your cunt. It took him all the self-control not to cum then and there; seeing the pleasure on your face, the tears on your cheeks, your beautiful lips hanging in a silent scream.

Fuck.

He’d go to hell for corrupting the innocent girl you once were.

“Sir…” you whispered weakly, your voice spent and quiet.

But Aaron paid you no mind. He hasn’t come yet. And he had no plan on letting you go after just one orgasm. He wants to ruin you. To take over your being. He wants you to realize that he has all the control. He owns you, from the very first day he laid eyes on you, to the very first night you spent together. When you desperately opened your legs for him, you were his. He owned you since then and he can do everything he pleases.

Effortlessly, he pulled you up and switched your positions. He was now lying on his back, his piercing eyes focused on you as you scrambled to find your position on his lap, your legs still shaking from the remnants of your orgasm.

“I haven’t cum yet, little girl.”

You nodded quickly, understanding just well what he meant by that, your chest rising and falling in shallow gasps. “Yes, sir…”

“Make me proud, angel. Show me how good of a whore you are.”

Aaron let out a loud hiss as you lined the head of his leaking cock on your wet entrance, fluttering in anticipation as it welcome the familiar stretch. You let out a satisfied sigh, feeling your inner thigh wet with arousal and your release, and all Aaron could do was shiver as he felt the wetness the moment you fully sank down his cock.

With your palms resting on the soft surface of his stomach, you forced your legs to bounce up and down his hairy cock. Every once and a while, you’d clench around his girth unconsciously, which only made Aaron shut his eyes and pound into you harshly.

You moaned loudly, meeting the way his hips desperately chases yours. “Ah! Ah, s-sir!”

“You feel so good… so w-warm..” he mumbled dazedly, wetting his lips with his eyes closed. “This cunt’s heaven, baby. Fuck. You’ll send me to hell— fucking hell! Yes, clench that pussy tighter, angel! Fuck, I’m coming!”

You bounced even more desperately, fueled by his moaning, and his heavy breathing. The hoarness of his voice, the way the veins in his strong arms popped out, and how his big hands gripped your hips so tightly it left red, angry marks.

He fucked into you like you’re nothing but a fucktoy. Like you’re something he can discard— like you’re something he will discard the moment he reaches his high. And you’d be lying to say you don’t find that idea hot.

You clenched your cunt tighter, holding his hands that were wrapped around your hips.

“A-Aaron! S-sir! Ah!” his cock found the spot only he can reach. “I’m coming again, sir! D-daddy! Ah! Aaron, please, more! Fuck me harder, daddy!”

Aaron didn’t say anything but a loud growl rumbled through his chest. His chest heaving in sharp, restrained breaths.

“God, angel…” he rasped quietly.

A strangled sound of what seemed like your name escaped his lips. You let him take over, let him ruin you the way he wanted, his hand firm on your hips as he fucked into you. And the moment you felt his hips stutter, warm ropes finally spilled inside you; his big cock throbbing as he emptied himself deep into your willing cunt.

You heaved a sigh of satisfaction, tossing your head back with your eyes closed, feeling perfectly sated and elated at the moment.

If this is heaven, you will never, ever come down.

Even if it means you would beg God to forgive you.

As always, replies, likes, reblogs- everything is highly appreciated! I'm only planning on writing 5 chapters for this series. And please be aware that I'm not promising any happy ending. This will end up in angst unless something changes my mind. Also, listen to Lana's Gods & Monsters and feel the vibe of this series! Have a good day and drink your water! <3

Tag list: @downbad4reid, @readergf, @urbrazysimp, @roseydoesypoesy, @pastelpinkflowerlife, @justyourusualash, @hotchsmutrecs, @msfreedom, @birdysaturne, @gghostwriter, @mrs-ssa-hotch, @fore45fore, @actualdeemon, @diksy1112, @jethro-mcgee-tony, @hotchnerbau, @iniyalovesall, @222hwilsss, @balariie, @oliviabbb, @ncis0mrs0gibbs, @jasonswhitetuftofhair, @m4pl, @yiiiikesmish, @luv-unknwn, @thatonepersononline, @ilikwgirls, @ssamorganhotchner, @antonia29, @fandomtookoverlife, @hotchnerwife, @wandererseye, @marisamarisa @l0kilaufeys0n7, @promptly-mercy

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner smut #criminal minds smut #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x female!reader #aaron hotchner fic #ssa aaron hotchner

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jenscx · 8 months ago

Text

SAY MY NAME — yoon jiyoon x f!reader

your best friend is always there for you (even if she doesn’t admit it).

TAGS — fluff, zero angst, non-idol au, high school au, kinda tsundere!jiyoon, stuco!reader, best friends, izna members are all in a dance team, grumpy x sunshine (a little!)

WORDCOUNT — 5.1k

you like simplicity. normalcy. in a world where society is constantly changing, and you’re unable to predict what’s going to happen next, you find solace in a routine. if everything goes wrong in your life, at least you have that bit of hope it will return to normal. you follow a strict schedule; wake up, eat breakfast at exactly seven in the morning, go to school, reach home by five and go to bed by ten.

jiyoon’s well aware of this. she knows of your strange but understandable regime. your best friend fits into it seamlessly. she fetches you from your house (despite the fact she lives twenty metres away), and walks you home.

if you have student council meetings after school, she waits patiently outside, sometimes even joining the discussions. the dynamics of your friendship have changed throughout your life. it doesn’t remain as it is. jiyoon, from a brooding teenager, finally opens up and willingly interacts with your friends. you, from an extroverted middle schooler, finally learn to calm down and enjoy silence with jiyoon.

yet, the one thing that remains throughout the years without change is the chocolate milk in jiyoon’s hand.

she first bought it when you were twelve and she was thirteen. you were struggling with the new topics and lessons introduced in class and you had lost countless nights of sleep just trying to catch up. jiyoon had taken it upon herself to ensure you at least had something to fuel your energy. after hanging out at your house, the girl observed the cartons of chocolate milk stored in your cabinets. it was only sooner or later that jiyoon placed a box of chocolate milk on your desk.

(“for you,” a heavy blush painting her cheeks as she places the mystery item on your table gently.

you gasp, “jiyoonie! how’d you know i liked chocolate milk?”

jiyoon had merely shrugged, “just a guess.”)

it’s a form of affection that jiyoon rarely dishes out. you appreciate it nonetheless despite her frown in the morning and the nonchalant words she says.

she’s been your best friend for years. your rock. your saviour. if you were drowning, she would be the one who would pull your head out of water. sometimes you’re unsure if you even give back the same comfort to her, but jiyoon just brushes it off, saying she relishes the time spent together.

despite her quiet nature, jiyoon had a way with words. at your lowest, she always knew how to cheer you up. she’s like your personal cheerleader, you chuckle at the thought. somehow, jiyoon managed to be privy to all your innermost feelings without even asking you. sometimes, jiyoon would just sit next to you in solace. other times, she would bring you to go eat without a question.

yet, when you do profess your appreciation for your best friend, jiyoon just tenses up. it’s kind of funny watching her flounder around to deny the fact that she cares for you. at least, it’s a fact that you both are aware of. it’s more so that jiyoon can’t accept it.

(“unnie, i’m starting to think you like me with all the chocolate milk you buy.”

“wha— y/n! it’s just because i have extra change!”)

it’s comical, the way jiyoon’s eyes widen and she just starts gaping at you. but that’s only in front of other people. when it’s just you and her, she carries a heavy blush, flushing from her neck to her ears. it’s adorable.

“what are you looking at?” her gruff voice sounds out in your ears. you hide an amused smile at her frown.

“i have eyes for a reason, y’know. can i no longer look?”

jiyoon’s lips fall into a thin line. she’s in the midst of revising, with the year-end exams coming up, she needed all the time in the world. you were the one who suggested studying, but it seemed you were doing everything but that.

your eyes trail from her face to her upper chest, where her unbuttoned collar exposes a shiny, silvery necklace with a dainty bear charm. it reminded you of jiyoon, who was like a polar bear. despite her cold and expressionless aura, the girl was actually very warm (and she gave great hugs but jiyoon would always deny it). you remember the day you had presented the velvety box to jiyoon, professing your forever adoration and devotion to the girl, who had only huffed and scolded you for making a scene.

it rejuvenates you that jiyoon’s wearing it and the feeling totally makes up for the empty wallet you carried around that month.

“stop staring down my shirt, you perv.”

“wha— i’m not a perv!” you defend yourself passionately, “i was just looking at your necklace, it’s nice that you wear it.”

jiyoon’s pen falls down, a solemn look on her face.

“i never take it off.”

you can feel the way warmth blooms in your chest, like the first arrival of spring.

“really?” you whisper softly.

your best friend shrugs, indifferent, “i can’t reach the clasp behind. it’s hard to take off. don’t look at me like that.”

it’s really not difficult to remove. you would know. you’ve seen jiyoon take it off by herself countless times before. but the fact that she’s acting like she doesn’t have a choice, only makes her more endearing.

“what if i want it back?” you ask jokingly.

jiyoon sends you a withering glare, her eyes narrowing into slits as her hand rests right above the necklace, covering it, “it’s mine.”

“but i gave it to you. i bought it.”

“exactly, you gave it to me.”

“you like it so much that you don’t want to give it back?” you tease, “i knew you loved me.”

she only stares at you incredulously before scoffing loudly, “in your dreams.”

“you’re like a cat,” you say suddenly. jiyoon only frowns.

“both cold and brooding, but you’re just a fluffy ball of cuteness aren’t you?” you continue.

jiyoon swats your hand away from her hair.

“and this necklace… it’s like a collar?” you laugh, “does that mean you’re mine?”

“what— are you crazy?” no, the flush on her cheeks is crazy. you prod at her cheeks with your finger, admiring the way the red blooms throughout. “don’t be weird!”

you pout, “you’re making it weird.”

she only rolls her eyes.

you smile, using your bare foot to slowly caress her leg. jiyoon shoots up immediately, banging her knee into the underside of the table. a scowl rests on her face as you laugh heartily at her shocked expression.

“you’re so annoying!”

“ah… don’t be like that, unnie!” you whine, pulling at her sleeve while she shrieks for you to get away.

it’s a common sight to see you two like this— bickering and fighting. but anyone with eyes could see that behind every snarky remark, there’s an underlying tension. you’re not sure what to call it, but you feel it sometimes; like when you walk home with jiyoon and the sunlight hits her face, bringing all her features to life. maybe it was pure adoration for your best friend. you feel it too with every chocolate milk she buys. it makes you feel all warm despite the milk being cold.

it’s a little strange. but it’s jiyoon, so everything’s fine.

you don’t usually get like this. you understand that jiyoon’s older and she’s in the grade above you, but the age gap doesn’t seem to matter so much after being friends for so many years. yet, you don’t understand the feeling brewing in your stomach as you watch jiyoon talk to her friends during dance practice. you know that jiyoon’s a phenomenal singer and dancer, and her only reason for not exploring her talent in singing was because ‘theatre kids are weird’. however, you’re not sure you like how many pretty girls there are that jiyoon converses with.

and not to mention the number of guys who crowded the dance room just to look at the girls. it’s extremely weird how they’re all salivating over exposed shoulders, but you kind of understand why people would want to stare at these girls. they’re all gorgeous. still, it doesn’t give them a reason to come here and look! you huff angrily from your spot on the floor. jiyoon had forced you to come watch, because apparently they needed an outsider’s opinion.

you were probably the best option and the only one who wouldn’t pass out at a wink from the girls.

backed up against the mirror, you hold up jiyoon’s phone to record. you watch as they execute their choreography, and it’s a practised routine when they finish, and you give your own compliments.

most of the time, they’re unconstructive and it’s mainly to cheer the girls up. but you think jiyoon appreciates them nonetheless.

when they do finally finish (after rounds of gruelling practice that even you wince at), jiyoon drags you out of the practice room and pushes her bag into your hands. as she heads towards the washroom to change, you bid the rest of the girls goodbye. your best friend had promised to bring you out for ice cream after her practice, as an exchange for having you stay back. you hope she doesn’t realise that you would stay back regardless.

while jiyoon’s in the washroom, you take a good look at everyone else around. you recognise some guys from the basketball team, but the others are just a blurry haze of memory.

a particular comment catches your attention.

“—don’t you think jiyoon looks prettier than usual?” you agree, but you also disagree because jiyoon is always the prettiest.

“yeah? you think you can pull her?” this coerces a frown on your face. you glance at the guys talking. who the hell are they?

“i mean, c’mon, if i were in that practice room, i would—”

“bro,” the other guy smacks his shoulder, “i’m pretty sure you’re not her type.”

you kind of recognise him as some kid on the football team.

“i’m not just brains okay,” you would disagree, you’re sure you’ve seen his name at the bottom of the rank list, “this body is to die for too.”

you, personally, would like him to die.

honestly, thank god that at that moment, jiyoon comes out, in fresh new clothes.

“jiyoon unnie!” you yell loudly. the two guys flinch before turning around slowly to meet your eyes.

your best friend only raises an eyebrow and takes her bag back. you use the opportunity to sling your arm through hers, effectively interlocking your fingers together.

“unnie…” you drag out, “i was waiting long for you.”

no you weren’t, it’s a lie. jiyoon smiles softly, one that’s only reserved for you.

“ah really? sorry y/nnie.” it’s times like this that you’re grateful for jiyoon. behind her cold exterior is just your best friend. but if you ever brought this up to anyone else, you would be strangled. the two boys stare at you strangely, probably wondering who the hell were you.

you cling onto jiyoon tighter.

“are you paying for me?” you ask, beaming at the girl. jiyoon looks a little confused and rightfully so. you’re clingy, but not this affectionate. and the whiny tone laced into your voice isn’t normal either.

jiyoon nods hesitantly before murmuring, “are you okay?”

you eye the two boys who are still standing nearby.

“yup, just excited for our date!” you exclaim. one of them lets out a surprised gasp and the other groans, disgruntled. you tune out whatever they say next in favour of staring at jiyoon. the girl only shakes her head fondly before tugging at your arm.

maybe it was irrational for you to act this way. jiyoon was your best friend, she wasn’t your daughter or anything. you didn’t have the right to feel like this. but you were just looking out for her, right? you wanted the best for jiyoon. and the best was clearly not those kids. they were barely worthy of being in her vicinity.

“okay silly,” jiyoon flicks your forehead with her free hand. you groan, covering the reddening mark.

the two guys had scurried away by now. you smirked internally, proud that your tactic had worked. hand-in-hand, you follow jiyoon out of the school. her longer legs make it harder for you to catch up, but unbeknownst to you, her

“did you like the routine today?” jiyoon asks. you nod fervently, “it was really cool! did koko unnie choreograph it?”

jiyoon turns to you, affronted before she mumbles out, “i did…”

“ah really?! that’s amazing,” you hype her up immediately, not liking the way an upset jiyoon looks. the girl somewhat schools herself into a calmer expression, “yeah, we’re performing it for the festival.”

“what!” you yell, surprise evident. jiyoon winces at your loudness.

“you didn’t tell me that!” you started raining punches on jiyoon, who only winces and dodges your hands.

“why are you hitting me?!”

you groan loudly, allowing your head to fall against jiyoon’s shoulder in despair. “i’m on the festival committee!”

“so?”

“i can’t watch your performance! i’ll be running around everywhere,” you whine. jiyoon frowns, but she just pats your head, “it’s okay, y/n.”

no, it’s not okay! you want to retort. the routine that jiyoon worked so hard on— you wouldn’t be able to watch it fully! and everyone else would! including those two boys who clearly only liked jiyoon for her looks. you do think jiyoon’s the most gorgeous girl alive, especially the way her eyes crinkle. it’s rare, but that’s what makes it better. a rarity for most, but common for you. the mere thought of not being able to watch jiyoon’s choreography saddens you immensely.

seeing your downcasted eyes makes jiyoon procure an item from the pocket of her sweatpants. she hands it to you, wrapping your fingers around it gingerly.

you look up at her, a smile involuntarily making its way onto your face at the sight of the small packet of chocolate milk.

jiyoon smiles softly, “it’s okay if you can’t make it. i’m disappointed but i understand. don’t look so sad.”

her words of comfort only bring you more melancholy, knowing she wanted you to watch her performance. you’ve never regretted joining the student council more than right now. gently sipping on the chocolate milk, you relish in its sweetness.

“let’s go get ice cream now.”

the forlorn expression on your face slowly disappears as jiyoon drags you towards the ice cream parlour. distracted by her surprising conversation, you forget all about your sadness. she just has that effect on you; the ability to make you happy and content. even with simple words, she brightens up your day. usually, people would compare you and jiyoon to the sun and clouds. extroverted and bright, you were assumed to be the chatterbox, constantly talking jiyoon’s ears off. your best friend was like a raincloud, sometimes gloomy, sometimes indifferent, but as cheesy as it sounds, the presence of rain indicates the presence of a rainbow.

jiyoon was like a rainbow. multi-faced and blinding.

and so was her choice of ice cream. you watch, amused, as jiyoon holds a cone, wobbling with scoops of napoleon ice cream. her tongue darts out to stabilise the shaking tower. you lick your own chocolate ice cream.

“it’s good,” you mumble as jiyoon holds your hand.

“weather’s becoming hotter,” she remarks, “probably why it tastes so good.”

you nod at that.

“how’d you know the weather’s getting hotter? you learned that in geography?”

“common sense, y/n,” jiyoon deadpanned. you chuckle and dig into your dessert.

“did you hear about seoyeon getting a girlfriend? i knew she liked girls from the start!” you exclaim, mouth full of ice cream.

“yeah, look at her. she’s obviously into girls. who is she dating?”

“this girl from basketball. anyway, there’s a new girl who joined choir and everyone says she’s really pretty.”

jiyoon looks up from her ice cream, “is she pretty?”

you turn to jiyoon, pout on your face, “why would you want to know?!”

she flinches, and then grimaces awkwardly, “curiosity’s sake?”

“since when were you curious about pretty girls?” you retort. jiyoon only shrugs. it’s true though. throughout your friendship with the older girl, she hasn’t shown much interest in gossip or drama, only offering snide remarks and nods when you told her about the current rumours circulating the school. the thought of her showing interest in other girls forms an involuntary pout on your face. and okay, maybe you started it by stating that the new girl was pretty, but jiyoon has never asked for an elaboration before!

frowning at your ice cream cone, you let the silence drag on. has jiyoon shown any interest in any other girls? wasn’t she always hanging out with you? was it because she always hung out with you that she couldn’t hang out with anyone else? you wonder if she wants to spend time with other people. taking a final lick of your ice cream, you reach your doorstep. your hand falls slack in hers, and jiyoon waves goodbye.

it was a routine for her to always walk you home first, even if she had to walk back to her house again. she claimed that something might happen to you and she didn’t want to be blamed for it. you think it’s because she wants to spend extra time with you, but you don’t mind it either.

“bye, y/n, see you tomorrow.”

you nod, not bothering to hug jiyoon goodbye like usual. your best friend stares at you awkwardly before clearing her throat and turning away.

“see you tomorrow, unnie.”

the smile she sends you only heats your cheeks up.

and when you lay in bed that night, it doesn’t come as a striking realisation, only an uncertain acceptance, that you feel more affection for jiyoon than a best friend should.

it’s been two weeks since your ice cream outing (date!) with jiyoon, and you haven’t really seen her around. for someone who claims to be your best friend, she wasn’t really doing her job— other than the consistent chocolate milk that’s always on your desk. but that’s part of your routine! it’s undeniably embedded in your life and if it changes, you wouldn’t know what to do. there’s always a small note left under the packet as well, either words of encouragement for the day or jiyoon reminding you to text her later.

she doesn’t reply as quickly as before but that’s okay. you’re happy to just be able to talk to her, even if that meant through a screen.

y/nnie 🐣 [2.15pm]:

thx for the chocolate milk~~

i’m in a stuco meeting!

so boring :p

jiyoonie 🐻‍❄️ [2.16pm]:

no problem.

we’re on break right now

y/nnie 🐣 [2.16pm]:

wna go get ice cream later?

jiyoonie 🐻‍❄️ [2.17pm]:

sorry, we have practice until 5

mai’s running our practice like the military

tomorrow’s the festival

y/nnie 🐣 [2.18pm]:

aww okay

jiyoonie 🐻‍❄️ [2.19pm]:

we’re starting again

you should focus on your meeting

y/nnie 🐣 [2.20pm]:

talking 2 u is more fun :((

i miss u unnie

jiyoonie 🐻‍❄️ is typing…

before you could see jiyoon’s reply, your phone was taken out of your hands. you gasp, immediately turning back to realise the student council president, kim minji was staring at your phone.

“why are you texting during our meeting?” she asks, pointing at your phone. you can only push out your bottom lip, begging with your eyes for minji to return what’s rightfully yours.

“i’ll pay attention! just give it back,” you reply. minji shakes her head and pockets your phone with a smile, “you can get it back after this.”

furrowing your eyebrows, you’re forced to listen to the boring presentation by the treasurer about the finances for the school’s festival. truthfully speaking, you had fallen asleep midway, and only woke up as the meeting was ending.

“good job everyone,” minji claps, “let’s hope tomorrow’s festival runs smoothly.” she fishes out your phone and places it in front of you.

as everyone leaves, you get ready to stand up as well, but minji holds a firm grip on your shoulder.

“minji,” you warn. she may be your president, but you don’t mind tackling her for your phone. and you don’t even know if jiyoon responded yet.

the girl sighs, “i know you’re in love or whatever, but you should really adhere to council meeting rules. no texting, remember?”

your eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets. in love?

minji adds, “are you in a honeymoon period right now? dating jiyoon must be nice, huh?”

“dating?” you repeat, dumbfounded. minji stares at you weirdly.

“did i say something wrong?”

you state very slowly, “i am not dating jiyoon.”

the president blinks. and then her lips morph into a frown. a confused look on her face, equally as aghast as you are.

“uhm.”

“she’s my best friend,” you say again. minji nods dumbly. her hold on you loosens as her ears redden in embarrassment.

“you’re not dating jiyoon?” she asks once more. you nod hastily, “we’re not dating, just very good best friends.”

minji nods slowly. you take this opportunity to grab your phone, an unread message from jiyoon.

“okay. see you tomorrow.”

you leave the meeting room, heart pounding. why would minji even think that you and jiyoon were dating? did anyone else think that way? it wasn’t as if you were! you were just close friends who enjoyed each other’s company. jiyoon is a good listener who cares deeply for you. of course you would want to talk to her and be with her. just not in a romantic way. you sigh deeply, unlocking your phone.

jiyoonie 🐻‍❄️ [2.21pm]:

i miss you too.

you might have to cancel that last thought.

the festival lights are super pretty, you think. jiyoon would look even prettier standing under them. they would illuminate her bright eyes and silly smile— no! you slap your own cheeks. you can’t be thinking about your best friend now. you had a job to do! groaning at the clipboard in your hand, you head towards the food stalls, manned by the enterprise club. after conversing with some of the members, you reported back to minji, saying everyone was fine and everything was going well.

you had been ticked off that the festival was happening in the evening, causing your routine to go slightly askew, but that was okay! it was only for a day anyway.

strolling around the festival was fun. you were impressed with the tents set up and the decor around the place. thank god you weren’t part of that sector, knowing it would be a pain to remove everything again. the student council really outdid themselves with this one. you walked around, pride simmering at the way students would gasp in awe at the set-up.

“y/n!” you swerve around, beaming at the sight of the dance team, all dressed up. their outfits were made of american football jerseys and baggy jeans, some with their shirts cropped and others tied up. you took a long appreciative look at jiyoon’s outfit before grinning at the rest of the girls.

“jiyoon unnie said you wouldn’t be able to watch our performance,” jungeun sighs, “it doesn’t feel right to not have you watching us.”

the girls all nod in agreement. of course, as someone who had been through all their practices and sessions, it feels strange that a lingering presence like yours would be absent.

“i’ll ask someone to record it for me!” you exclaim, in an attempt to cheer jungeun up. despite being the same age, you felt an overwhelming urge to comfort the girl, almost like how jiyoon does for you.

“you better come find us afterwards,” saebi says.

before you could even get another word in, you heard your name being called from afar. after promising to find the girls later, you cheer them all on. as you were about to leave, a warm hand encapsulates your own, pulling you back. you instantly recognise the sensation. an electric bolt trickling into your blood, shocking your nerves and eliciting goosebumps across the field of your skin.

“jiyoon unnie, i like your outfit.”

“thanks, but we have to change back into our uniforms later.” you should take the chance to admire her properly then.

“aw, okay.”

the older girl grimaces.

“y/nnie,” jiyoon frowns. worry builds in you at her unsettled and troubled expression. “when you come to find us afterwards, stay back a little. i want to talk to you.”

you widen your eyes before gulping. jiyoon relinquishes her grip and waves goodbye, just as you form a fist to cheer her on.

what could jiyoon possibly want to talk to you about? it was scary having her talk all serious, instead of the teasing girl you’ve grown to adore. did you do something wrong? maybe jiyoon was upset about the lack of attention from you these past weeks. ugh, but her tone boggled you the most.

“hey, snap out of it,” you blink at the fingers snapping in your face. what a rude gesture! rolling your eyes at the boy who had called you over, myung jaehyun, you elbow him in the ribs. he only scoffs and pushes you back.

“aren’t you meant to be a gentleman? why are you pushing girls?” you sneer at him. the boy had called you over for the stupidest reason, stating that he was bored walking around. as a student council member, technically you had to listen to the vice-president. but c’mon, even minji would laugh.

jaehyun snickers, “are you mad ‘cause i brought you away from your girlfriend?”

you frown, thinking about jiyoon performing. you don’t even bother to deny that jiyoon’s your girlfriend. no one even takes your words seriously. there’s a crowd of students already gathering near the stage. on the schedule, it stated that the dance team would be performing soon. your shoulders turn slack at your lost opportunity to watch jiyoon dance.

“man, shut up.”

the boy quietens down at your stern tone, before offering, “i can take over you if you wanted. and you can go watch her.”

you perk up instantly, “really?”

“yeah, but you owe me lunch.”

“deal, seriously.”

jaehyun chuckles, “anything for love right? call me cupid.”

you scrunch your nose in disgust before waving him off and heading towards the already crowded audience. the stage was fairly centred with a second platform protruding from its middle. you look around, searching for any kind of a vantage point.

there’s a secluded corner near the back, but a bunch of boxes and crates are propped up there. approaching the area, it gives you a relatively clear view of the stage. you would be able to see the girls from here. excitement brewing as the music heightens, you think of all the hard work jiyoon has put in. you’ve watched her practise endlessly, critiquing every detail of her moves. it all comes down to this performance.

the house music softens, and the chatter amongst the crowd dies down. suddenly, unexpectedly and forcefully, the music blasts through the speakers as the girls walk onto stage. there’s an uproar of cheers from the audience, including yourself. you yell jiyoon’s name as if she were a deity, and you were on your deathbed.

grinning brightly, you’re awestruck by the fluidity and smoothness of their moves. your mouth, agape for the whole performance, is unable to close by itself. the girls belonged on the stage, rightfully so. and even though you had heard this song and witnessed this dance countless amounts of times, it still refreshes you like the first.

“mai, you’re so pretty!”

“ryu sarang!”

“yoon jiyoon, i love you!” you scream, using your hands as a makeshift megaphone as jiyoon approaches the centre. her head snaps up, and a wide smile overtakes her.

as the crowd continues to shout, you’re unable to take your eyes off jiyoon. there was something magnetic about her. like two sides of a magnet pulling you towards her. she was almost like the centre of gravity (she’s the centre of your world).

the song reaches its last chorus and jeemin reclaims the stage. there’s an upheaval of yells and shrieks once more. as it arrives at the end, you bring your hands to applaud loudly. the girls stand at the centre, spotlight emphasising on them and heaving breathily.

the girls soon leave the stage and the crowd is left anticipating for the next performance. you don’t, however, and instead head towards the back of the stage. the girls are already there, changed back into their uniforms.

“y/n—” saebi is the first to spot you.

“you guys did great out there!” you engulf the group of girls into an embrace, as best as you could.

“i thought you couldn’t watch?!” sarang asks.

you shrug, “someone could cover for me, so of course i had to come watch you guys.”

“i heard you yell jiyoon’s name,” jeemin smiles.

“gotta support my best friend,” you bump jiyoon’s hip and she only groans miserably. as they start to leave, you grasp onto the short sleeve of jiyoon’s shirt, “didn’t you want to talk?”

jiyoon shakes her head and whispers lowly, “not here.”

you follow her out and into an empty tent, the tables and chairs cleared of any belongings. she has the same uncomfortable expression on her face, the one that makes your heart shrivel up. you deafen out the loud music and cheers outside, choosing to focus on the girl in front of you.

“what’s up? is something wrong?” is your first immediate question.

jiyoon sighs, pink overtaking her cheeks. you resist the urge to squeal at the adorable sight.

“no, nothing’s wrong, but…”

she takes a seat. you do the same and capture her hands in yours, providing comfort.

“you can tell me anything,” you insist. jiyoon turns away, her lips pursing.

“i know, but it’s just difficult to say,” she mumbles, “you’re usually the one who speaks for both of us.”

“but it’s just us now. you can say whatever you want.”

your best friend only turns redder.

“that’s the problem,” she whispers.

you stare at her, bewildered, “what do you mean?”

“you’re my best friend,” jiyoon states, “i don’t want to mess anything up.”

your brain has an inkling of what jiyoon is trying to convey. endorphins rush through your veins as a small smile creeps its way onto your face. you can’t help the happiness blooming in your chest.

“you won’t mess anything up, i promise.”

jiyoon bites her lower lip before saying, “you’re so silly at times. you and your routine. when we first met, i thought you were crazy. but somehow, it seems like i’ve become part of your routine.”

“you have,” you agree.

“and it makes me feel happy,” jiyoon confesses, “because i like spending time with you.”

“i like spending time with you too.”

“even if i’m quiet and moody sometimes. i just get in my head, but you understand me. that’s why i’m comfortable with you. and when we got closer, i thought i was dragging you down—”

you immediately protest, “no, you weren’t.”

the older girl grumbles, “don’t interrupt me.”

shrugging, you let go of jiyoon’s hands to play with the hem of her skirt. she only swats your hands away to intertwine your fingers gently.

“and i think you should just know that because of your kindness and personality…” she trails off before gulping, “i like you.”

you’ve never seen your best friend so sheepish and bashful. so shy. she may be unapproachable at times, but she’s never been this nervous and insecure. the jiyoon you know is bold and courageous. but you feel like you like this version of her more. vulnerable and open.

“you’re so cute,” you blurt out. jiyoon furrows her eyebrows and her lips form a pout.

an idea comes to your mind. carefully untangling your hands, you reach your blazer, meticulously unpinning the plastic name tag there. then, you slowly open jiyoon’s palm, placing your name tag there.

“don’t you understand, jiyoon unnie?” you ask, teasingly at her shocked expression. she swallows, and then nods.

“what does it mean then?” you giggle.

jiyoon blushes, from her neck to her ears, “means that you like me too.”

“mhm. i thought i confessed quite loudly just now though,” referring to your yell during her performance. jiyoon chuckles before nodding, “guess you beat me to it. but can i just hear it again?”

you grin, leaning into jiyoon’s space, right next to her ear. resisting the urge to blow wind into her sensitive red ears, you instead whisper, “i like you, yoon jiyoon.”

the smile she gives you is blinding.

“i like you more, y/n.” and from her pocket, she brings out a packet of chocolate milk.

you laugh at her absurdity.

“you can’t like me more than i do.”

“i disagree.”

“well, agree to disagree, right?” you prod jiyoon’s cheek.

the girl grins slyly, “anything my girlfriend says.”

#izna #izna x reader #yoon jiyoon x reader #jiyoon x reader #izna x fem reader #jiyoon x fem reader #yoon jiyoon x fem reader

214 notes · View notes

kenzdolls · 25 days ago

Text

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐒

𖤐 synopsis: in the dimly lit league of villains' hideout, an unexpected moment of vulnerability unfolds between you and dabi as you both share painful memories of your fathers.

𖤐 trigger warnings: dark themes, abuse (implied)

𖤐 pairing: touya (dabi) todoroki x villain! gender neutral! reader

the afternoon light filtered weakly through the boards covering the windows of the league of villains' current hideout. dust particles danced in the thin beams of sunlight that managed to break through, giving the otherwise dreary room a strange, almost ethereal quality. the abandoned building had become home for the past three weeks—not the worst place you'd stayed since joining the league, but certainly not the best either.

you lounged on the worn couch, your legs stretched across dabi's lap as he absently traced the scars on your arm with his fingertips. his touch was feather-light, careful not to press too hard against your skin. despite his rough exterior and the violent nature of his quirk, dabi always touched you with a gentleness that still surprised you sometimes.

the hideout was unusually quiet today. shigaraki had taken toga, twice, and spinner on some reconnaissance mission, while mr. compress and kurogiri were meeting with potential allies across town. it was rare to have the place entirely to yourselves, and the silence felt almost luxurious after days of toga's manic laughter and twice's constant contradictory chatter.

"what are you thinking about?" dabi asked, his deep voice breaking through the comfortable silence. his turquoise eyes studied your face with an intensity that used to make you uncomfortable but now felt like home. you shifted slightly, adjusting your position on the couch. "just enjoying the quiet, honestly."

dabi's lips quirked up on one side—the closest thing to a genuine smile he ever showed. "never thought i'd miss silence until i joined this circus."

you laughed softly. "remember when toga and twice had that three-hour argument about whether strawberry milk was better than chocolate?" "and then spinner threatened to duct tape their mouths shut?" dabi shook his head, the staples at the corners of his mouth catching the light. "i nearly burned the place down just to escape."

"but you didn't," you said, reaching out to push a strand of his dark hair away from his face. "because underneath all that brooding and those threats, you care about them."

dabi scoffed, though he didn't pull away from your touch. "i don't care about anyone in this league except you."

"mmm, keep telling yourself that," you teased, knowing full well how annoyed he got when you suggested he had a soft spot for the other members.

he rolled his eyes but didn't argue further. his hand continued its gentle exploration of your arm, tracing each scar with a reverence that made your heart ache. some were from your life before the league, others collected during various missions. dabi knew the story behind each one—just as you knew the story behind each of his purple scars that mapped out his body like a grotesque puzzle.

"this one," he said, touching a particularly jagged mark that ran from your elbow to your wrist, "still looks painful."

"it's not anymore," you assured him. "just a reminder of why we're here. why we're fighting." dabi nodded, understanding perfectly. every member of the league carried their own wounds—some visible, others buried deep beneath the surface. it was what united you all, in a way. the scars left by a society that had failed you.

"speaking of reminders," you said, sitting up a little straighter. "i found something yesterday when i was out." you reached into your pocket and pulled out a crumpled newspaper clipping. "thought you might want to see it."

dabi took the paper from your hands, his expression hardening as he unfolded it. it was an article about the number two hero, endeavor, speaking at some charity event about supporting children with difficult-to-control quirks. the irony was sickening.

"bastard," dabi muttered, his fingers tightening around the paper. small wisps of blue flame began to lick at the edges of the clipping. "still pretending to be a fucking saint."

you watched as the paper blackened and curled, turning to ash in dabi's palm. the blue flames danced across his skin but never extended to where his other hand rested on your leg. his control was impeccable—it had to be, after what he'd been through.

"i know you don't like talking about him," you said carefully. "but whenever you see anything related to him, you get this look in your eyes…" dabi's jaw clenched, the staples stretching his scarred skin even tighter. "what look?"

"like you're back there," you said softly. "back in that house with him."

for a long moment, dabi said nothing. the silence stretched between you, thick with unspoken memories and pain. you didn't push—you'd learned early in your relationship that pushing dabi only made him retreat further into himself. instead, you waited, giving him the space to decide whether to let you in or change the subject entirely. finally, he brushed the remaining ashes from his palm onto the floor. "what about you?" he asked, deflecting as he often did. "you never talk about your old man either."

you shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant despite the sudden tightness in your chest. "not much to talk about. can't miss what was never there."

dabi's gaze sharpened. "sometimes that leaves its own kind of scar." the observation caught you off guard. it wasn't often that dabi showed this level of perception about emotional matters—or perhaps he simply chose not to reveal it most of the time.

"i guess it does," you admitted. "but different from yours. my father just… wasn't around. yours was there in all the worst ways possible."

something shifted in dabi's expression then, a crack appearing in his carefully maintained façade. his eyes darted to the boarded-up windows, then to the door, as if ensuring you were truly alone before he allowed himself to speak.

"sometimes i think it would have been better if he hadn't been there at all," dabi said, his voice so low you had to lean in to hear him. "if he'd just fucked off and left us alone instead of…" he trailed off, his free hand clenching into a fist.

you placed your hand over his, feeling the tension in his fingers. "instead of what, dabi?"

he looked at you then, really looked at you, with a vulnerability that made your breath catch. in that moment, he wasn't dabi the villain, the man who burned heroes without remorse—he was toya, the broken child beneath all those scars. "instead of training me until i broke," he said finally, the words rushing out like they'd been trapped inside him for too long. "until i literally fucking burned."

you held his gaze, letting him see that you weren't afraid of his truth. "tell me."

and for the first time since you'd known him, dabi began to talk about his father—about endeavor, about enji todoroki. about what it meant to be the firstborn son of a man obsessed with surpassing all might at any cost.

"he married my mother for her quirk," dabi explained, his voice hollow. "it was never about love or family. it was about breeding the perfect weapon. and i was the first attempt."

you listened, your heart breaking as he described the "training" sessions that started when he was just four years old. how endeavor would push him for hours, demanding he produce hotter flames, maintain them longer, control them better. how his tiny body would shake with exhaustion, how his skin would blister and burn from his own quirk.

"my fire was hot—hotter than his. that's what he wanted," dabi said, a bitter smile twisting his scarred lips. "but my body couldn't handle it. not like his. i tried to tell him, but he wouldn't listen. said i was being weak, that i needed to push through it."

"he was wrong," you said firmly, squeezing his hand. "he was wrong about you."

dabi laughed, a harsh sound devoid of humor. "oh, i know that now. but back then? he was my father. my hero." the last word dripped with venom. "i thought if i could just try harder, be stronger, he'd finally be proud of me. that he'd finally love me." you felt a burning behind your eyes but forced back the tears. dabi didn't need your pity—he needed your understanding.

"what about your mother?" you asked gently. "did she try to stop him?"

a flash of genuine pain crossed dabi's face. "she tried. in her way. but she was… damaged. the more children she had, the more unstable she became. and he kept pushing her to have more, hoping the 'perfect combination' would eventually emerge." he paused, his gaze distant. "until shoto was born." you'd heard him mention that name before—his youngest brother, the one with both fire and ice. the "masterpiece" that endeavor had been striving for.

"once shoto came along with his perfect half-and-half quirk, i became obsolete," dabi continued. "still had to train, still had to meet his impossible standards, but without even the sliver of attention i'd had before. i was just… a failed experiment."

"so what happened?" you asked, though you had a sickening feeling you already knew the answer. the scars that covered so much of his body told part of the story, but you'd never heard him explain exactly how he'd gotten them.

dabi was quiet for so long you thought he might not answer. when he finally spoke again, his voice was distant, as if he were narrating someone else's tragedy rather than his own.

"i wanted to prove i wasn't a failure. that my fire was special—better than his, better than shoto's." his eyes glazed slightly, lost in the memory. "i pushed myself further than i ever had before. the flames were beautiful—so hot they turned blue. perfect control, just like he always wanted."

he held up his scarred hands, staring at them. "for about thirty seconds. then my skin started to cook." you swallowed hard, imagining a young toya engulfed in his own flames, screaming in agony.

"he watched it happen," dabi said, his voice now eerily calm. "stood there while i burned. i remember looking at him through the flames, waiting for him to save me. he just… looked disappointed. like i'd broken his favorite toy."

"dabi," you whispered, unable to find words adequate for such horror.

"i don't remember much after that," he continued. "i should have died. sometimes i think i did die, and whatever i am now is just… the ghost of toya todoroki walking around in this patchwork body."

you moved then, shifting to kneel in front of him, taking both his hands in yours. "you're not a ghost. you're here. you survived."

"did i?" he looked at you with those piercing turquoise eyes. "toya todoroki died that day. i made sure of it. dabi rose from those ashes."

you reached up to touch his face, your fingers gently tracing the stapled scars. "and dabi is who i fell in love with. but that doesn't mean toya isn't still in there somewhere."

he closed his eyes briefly at your touch, allowing himself a moment of vulnerability before the walls came back up. "toya was weak. he wanted his father's approval, his love. dabi just wants to watch him burn."

"and you will," you assured him. "when the time is right. the league will help you expose him for what he really is."

dabi nodded, some of the tension leaving his body as he focused back on the present, on the mission ahead. on the revenge he'd built his new life around.

"what about you?" he asked after a moment, clearly wanting to shift the focus away from himself. "you said your father was absent. what's that story?" you settled back beside him on the couch, respecting his need to change the subject while recognizing his genuine interest in your past. it was only fair—he'd shared his darkest memories with you.

"not nearly as dramatic as yours," you said with a small shrug. "he just… left when i was three. don't really remember him much at all."

"he ever try to contact you?” you shook your head. "birthday card once a year until i was ten. then nothing. my mother said he had 'commitments elsewhere,' whatever that meant."

"what was your mother like?" dabi asked, his hand finding yours again.

"tired," you answered honestly. "always working two or three jobs to keep a roof over our heads. she did her best, i think, but she wasn't really… present, even when she was physically there." dabi nodded, understanding.

"emotional absence can fuck you up just as much as physical absence."

"yeah," you agreed, surprised by his insight. "she never hurt me, never yelled or anything like that. but she also never really saw me, you know? it was like i was just another responsibility, another burden she had to carry."

"what about when your quirk manifested?" dabi asked. it was a natural question—for most children, the emergence of their quirk was a pivotal moment, one where parental guidance was crucial.

you laughed bitterly. "she was terrified. my quirk isn't exactly… family-friendly." your quirk—the ability to absorb and manipulate the negative emotions of others, turning them into a physical force—had first manifested during a particularly bad day at school when you were six. a bully who'd been tormenting you suddenly collapsed, screaming about the darkness crushing him. no one had understood what happened, but your mother had taken one look at your glowing eyes and known.

"she tried to help me suppress it," you continued. "said it was dangerous, that people wouldn't understand. that they'd think i was villain material." "self-fulfilling prophecy," dabi noted with a smirk.

"i guess so," you agreed. "by the time i was a teenager, i'd learned to control it well enough to use it selectively. started small—making bullies feel their own cruelty, making abusive teachers face their own insecurities." "vigilante justice," dabi said, a note of approval in his voice.

"it felt good," you admitted. "to finally use what everyone told me was a villain's quirk to help people who were suffering. but society doesn't see it that way, does it? using an 'evil' quirk makes you evil, no matter your intentions."

"this fucked-up hero society only sees in black and white," dabi agreed. "no room for the gray areas where most of us actually live."

you nodded, thinking about the path that had eventually led you to the league. "after my mother died, there was nothing holding me back anymore. no one to disappoint, no one to pretend for. i started using my quirk more openly, targeting people who abused their power—corrupt officials, violent criminals the heroes couldn't be bothered with, businessmen exploiting their workers."

"and that's when you caught shigaraki's attention," dabi concluded, having heard this part of your story before.

"yeah. found myself cornered by some pro heroes who didn't appreciate my particular brand of justice. thought i was done for until a warp gate opened up right in front of me." you smiled at the memory, despite the fear you'd felt at the time. "never thought i'd be grateful to see a bunch of notorious villains, but that day i was."

dabi's arm slid around your shoulders, pulling you closer to his side. "lucky for me they recruited you." his voice was gruff, but the sentiment behind it was genuine.

you leaned into him, resting your head against his shoulder. "do you ever wonder what would have happened if our fathers had been different? if your dad hadn't been an abusive monster, if mine had actually stuck around?"

"we wouldn't be here," dabi said simply. "you might've been a licensed hero, using your quirk to help people through the proper channels." "and you?"

dabi was quiet for a moment, considering. "i don't know. maybe the same. or maybe i'd have followed in the old man's footsteps anyway, become the next endeavor." he shuddered slightly at the thought. "sometimes i wonder if that flame is in my blood regardless of what he did to me."

"it's not," you said firmly. "you're nothing like him, dabi. your anger, your fire—it comes from a place of justice, not ego. you want to burn away the corruption, not become the number one hero."

he looked at you with a mixture of skepticism and hope, as if he wanted to believe your words but couldn't quite bring himself to. "maybe. or maybe i'm just as obsessed with destroying him as he was with surpassing all might. different goals, same fucking toxic mindset."

you sat up straighter, turning to face him fully. "no. there's a difference. he hurt innocent people—his wife, his children—to achieve his ambition. you've never done that. you've never hurt someone who didn't deserve it."

"tell that to the heroes i've burned," dabi said darkly.

"those 'heroes' prop up a system that abandoned both of us," you reminded him. "that lets people like your father abuse their children in the name of creating better heroes. that labels children as villains because of quirks they never asked for." dabi studied your face for a long moment before a genuine smile—small but real—curved his lips. "how did i end up with someone who actually believes in me?"

"because beneath all that anger and cynicism, you still believe there's something worth fighting for," you told him, leaning forward to press your forehead against his. "and so do i."

for a moment, you stayed like that, sharing breath in the dusty afternoon light of the hideout. two broken people who had found each other in the darkness, whose scars complemented rather than repelled each other.

"we're going to tear it all down," dabi murmured, his lips brushing against yours. "the hero society, the systems that failed us. and when i finally face him—when endeavor finally sees who i've become—i want you there with me."

"i will be," you promised, closing the distance between you with a gentle kiss. "until every false hero burns."

outside, the sun began to set, casting long shadows through the boarded windows. soon the others would return, bringing with them the chaos and noise that defined the league of villains. but for now, in this quiet moment, there was just you and dabi—two children abandoned by their fathers in different ways, who had found their own path to justice in a world that had never wanted either of you.

and if that path was stained with ash and marked by flames, so be it. some things needed to burn before they could be rebuilt.

side note: this is an old, but long drabble I decided to post because well- why not?

mutuals: @haikyuubby @https-bakugo @va-3 @lotusstarr @kitkat13001 @n3r0-5352

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pinksugarscrub · 6 months ago

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Compromise

Hobie Brown x fem! reader

This is my response to the 2024 elections

word count: 1,065

The sky managed to encapsulate your mood perfectly. Dreary and dark with clouds soaked to the brim like sponges.

Tick

The city was surprisingly quiet. The bodega closed and Midtown students stuck indoors due to the incoming storm

Tick

You hated how quiet it was.

Tick

With a loud sigh you press down harder on the volume button. Music flooding your ears at a decibel that surely wouldn’t be healthy in the long run.

She meant well. Gwen always meant well you reasoned but that didn’t make the ache in your chest lessen.

Cold and half eaten, your dinner rests on the counter. A loud tick! managing to slip past the chorus of your favorite song.

It was his song first.

With a groan you switch to another song. A different song.

‘What if you’re too different?’

The ache in your heart makes itself known again. Traitor.

‘What do you mean?’ you laugh awkwardly.

Gwen’s eyes furrow and as much as MJ wants to speak up, she doesn’t. Just keeps her head down while idly skimming through the popcorn.

‘I mean, think about it.’ Gwen shifts. Facing you while you prepared another batch of hot chocolate. ‘He goes to protests. You do petitions.’

‘I don’t see a problem with that,’ you answer. Confused as you watch the milk bubble.

‘Ok, let me rephrase. He’s determined in his views while you are the least confrontational person I know.’

MJ cringes as she crushes a kernel between her fingers.

‘What are you going to do when you have a disagreement?’ Gwen asks.

‘Look, what are you getting at?’ you huff. Glaring down at the chocolate tablet as you plop it in the pot.

‘I don’t think this guy is right for you.’

The room goes quiet. The cozy atmosphere you worked so hard on achieving vaporizing into thin air.

This was supposed to be a relaxing night after exams. It was supposed to be an escape with your friends. Not…this.

‘Don’t get me wrong,’ Gwen starts. Fingers digging into the couch cushions. ‘Hobie sounds like a really sweet guy. I'm just…worried.’

‘Gwen maybe we should-’

‘No,’ you interrupt. Glancing over to MJ’s hunched form. ‘I want to hear what she has to say. Go on, say it.’

The words sound so much more condescending than you had intended but there’s an anger bubbling alongside the milk.

Gwen, never one to back down, straightens in her seat. A stubbornness you praise but now feels like a nuisance.

‘He’s anarchist! You’re a pacifist. You may want the same things but you will both do very different things to get them.’

‘You guys.’ MJ’s voice strains to be heard above the hurt. ‘Please.’

‘I don’t want you to lose your dignity over someone just because you want to please him.’ Gwen continues as her eyes narrow. ‘You’re already listening to punk music which you used to detest and what about the clothes you’re starting to buy?’

‘What about it?’

‘It isn’t you!’

‘I’m allowed to change my mind!’

‘Are you?’ She scoffs, ‘or is he doing that for you?’

You jump as a loud boom shakes the picture frames on your wall. Frantic you slid off your seat to place some distance between you and the balcony window.

One drop turns to two. Then three. Then it’s pouring so hard you feel like water will stream through any second to create an entirely new ecosystem in your living room.

Maybe the reason you were so angry, was because you knew she was right.

Slowly settling on the edge of the couch you stare at gloomy New York and she stares right back. Taunting you. Mocking you. Asking when it was your turn to break and let the tears fall.

You’re too different.

One hiccup turns to two. Then three. Then tears roll down your face while water trickles down the window pane.

You never should have yelled. You were just angry and rightfully so but Gwen was worried. She always worries. She always means well.

The lock to your apartment turns. Wet boots squishing against the welcome mat.

“Lovie it’s dangerous to leave your door unlocked. If I had been a…”

Hobie is at your side within seconds. Fruity drinks long forgotten as he pulls you into his arms.

You’re not sure what to do. The selfish parts of you don’t want to stay buried. They want to grab onto him and never let go. But how unfair would it be to keep him from finding the happiness he deserves?

“Hey, hey,” he whispers. “Talk to me darling.” Kissing the crown of your head and running his hands up and down the length of your arms.

You shake your head. A hiccup stuck in your throat as the tightness in your chest grew.

“Alright, ok. I’m right here.”

He gently coaxes your arms to wrap around his waist. When you finally respond he presses your head to his chest.

“I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

God, who were you kidding? He was perfect for you in every way.

Hobie sways the two of you on your feet. Rubbing between your shoulders and taking deep even breaths. Soon enough, yours matches his own.

Droplets hit the rail of your balcony and suddenly you can hear the city again. Car horns and kids running down the street. The sun peaking through the clouds before hiding behind complexes and office buildings.

Slowly you pull away. Cinnamon and leather, your new favorite scent.

“Atta girl…” Hobie’s eyes are filled with worry as he reaches for you cheek. “You ready to talk?”

He smiles slightly as you nod. Pinching your cheek and forcing your eyes on him. “I’m all yours.”

You tell him everything. How sorry you are for snapping. How confused and scared you are to lose him. A future you envision and a life you want to share.

You don’t expect him to walk away but you certainly don't expect him to slide one of his rings on your finger.

“Who said I couldn’t change my mind too?” He mumbles. Kissing the knuckle adoring his ring. “Love is all about compromise innit?”

You’re left at a loss for words.

“I can’t promise you perfection. Gwendy’s right. We’ll always have our problems but at the end of the day…”

Your heart lurches as he places a kiss on your lips.

“I’ll always want you.”

We're not talking about sunsets, are we?

#hobie brown #across the spiderverse #atsv #hobie brown x reader #atsv hobie #hobie brown x you #hobie x reader #spider punk x reader #spiderman atsv #spiderpunk #election 2024 #us elections

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weaselle · 3 months ago

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i seem to always have a comfort drink. Like my baseline comfort drink is coffee -- even when i've been homeless and in the rain, or derailed mid travel plan and stuck in place with no idea what to do, if i can get a cup of coffee, i can have some small amount of feeling okay and like i have agency in my fate.

But coffee is just the baseline, i usually have some other drink that occupies the top spot of the day (actually more like of the month or season)

Not so much this winter but the two winters before this, my comfort drink was actually just any spicy broth (i particularly liked spicy shrimp like the ramen packets but without the noodles and i'd add a bunch of sriracha - like, a LOT a lot - or a broth made from chicken stock but proper simmered the chicken bones for a few hours stock, also with a bunch of hot sauce or cayenne)

Right now my comfort drink is a cup of this tea

with a packet of this

but you don't have to use the whole packet, you just use it as sweetener and add basically as much as you would add sugar or honey - i usually add about half a packet and it's still pretty sweet, tonight i wanted something as sweet as hot chocolate, so i used the whole packet, and it is hitting *chef's kiss* but i'm not always in the mood for so much sweet

with the tea bag, not only is the drink more delicious than the apple cider alone when using the whole packet of cider, but you never thin out the spiced flavor of the apple cider too much to taste good, because you've got the spice base sorted already, so you can really control the sweetness to your liking without sacrificing flavor.

I've also quite enjoyed the same thing with this tea

as well as liking it with a lemon zinger and a black "chai" which in the states seems to mean black tea with like, pumpkin pie spices (you know, allspice, clove, cinnamon and i always put a little ginger in my pumpkin pies too, anyone else?)

there's probably at least a dozen other teas in any big grocery store that would go good with apple cider too.

Hot Chocolate?

For that i go straight to the spice drawer. Start by making sure you include some milk or half and half or something, if microwaving you can mix half a mug of water and half of whole milk, or you can do like 1/4 mug of half&half or cream and just mix it with the water and mic it. That's where i'm coming from i'm not talking super gourmet by any means. But for all the gods' sake put some milk, even rice milk or almond milk or coconut milk in there to give your hot chocolate some bones.

Sorry, i mean if you just use water the hot chocolate will always feel too thin and unsatisfying, and you'll find you're trying to fix it by adding more and more of the powder until it almost becomes a syrup and then the chocolate taste is a bit strong by then. But if you have a cup of fats and proteins and natural sugars and things to start as your base, you get a drink that feels big and thick and rich and filling the way hot chocolate in your fantasy is. Or whatever, i don't know you, maybe you like watery thin hot chocolate as a hydrating drink while playing ice hockey or something who knows. Personally, sometimes i'll just straight up use a mug full of half & half or use a bunch of heavy cream if i'm feeling particularly decadent.

regardless, what i recommend is: you grab your instant cocoa powder of choice, and before you put it in your preferred liquid you mix at least a couple of these other powders into it.

a dash of cinnamon a sprinkle of nutmeg a dusting of powdered ginger a bit of ground cayenne a pinch of salt

You can do it per mug or you can premix your whole canister of hot chocolate.

For me, the cayenne and salt are mandatory. Huge difference, the salt really plays up the chocolate flavor and while ideally you probably don't actually taste the salt, but even if you put in enough that it's a little salty, the effect is like salted caramel. Like, sometimes i do it on purpose. And cayenne and chocolate is just one of my favorite combinations ever. So.

BUT! i've also had good results starting with a mug of whole milk and brewing in a bag of something like this

before adding plain instant hot chocolate (and l little bit of salt)

anyway, my little drink recipe fiddles

#tea #hot chocolate #apple cider #hot drinks #comfort food #comfort drinks #beverages

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 6 months ago

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Good day to you, fair Fellow. And to you as well, adorable Gidel. *Reaches out to give Gidel a pat on the head, a puzzle box toy, and a bag of candy before turning back to address Fellow* I am the owner of a small, but successful candy shop. I was contacted by an associate of mine about a charming person that could possibly use a job? I assume that to be you. If the offer is not appealing, I have several friends that could use a server. You would likely be able to nab some good tips. Some would even offer a small apartment to go with the job. Whatever you decide, I am available anytime.

@ Cater Diamond, are you proud of me for conducting market research for this interaction/j

Waiter!Fellow though... 👀 (my bias comes out ahjdabsidabisyfiyoafi)

So tell me, do you wanna go?

"Excuse me, mister. I'd like to take 16 ounces of this milk chocolate with pistachio cream and kunafa filling."

"I want to buy some of those viral peelable fruit gummies. Can you tell me where to find them?"

"Ooh, these candies are shaped like gems. They come in so many different flavors--I can't decide what to buy! You work here, so which ones would you recommend?"

"One at a time, please!!" Fellow, in a pastel pink apron, pleaded of the encroaching customers. "I'll weigh the amount you want and ring you up at the cash register up front. The fruit gummies you're lookin' for are in aisle 3, between the sour belts and the licorice sticks. Our pumpkin jam-filled crystal candies are popular this season."

His new gig at the candy shop kept him busy. Social media, the owner had told him, had caused certain treats to blow up in popularity. Handling the sweets was a task left to the store owner, who produced all manner of confections. Fellow managed the front end: stocking, answering customer inquiries, doing the arithmetic (which he had always prided himself on).

Gidel hid in the back, sucking on a scraps of sugar and fiddling with a cube-shaped puzzle as Fellow went about his day. Sometimes he would poke his head out and watch as his guardian got swarmed, or swipe a sucker or two.

In the evenings--5 'o clock on the dot--Fellow would close up shop, then swap out his uniform for a white button-down shirt and black slacks, heading for his shift at a local restaurant. They were short-staffed in the evenings and on holidays, so he was quick to swoop in and fill out the vacancy.

A smile, a wink, a few friendly exchanges, and he'd walk away pocketing generous tips. The leftovers, swiped by a clever hand, and ferried away for a free makeshift meal for him and Gidel.

They had settled into the new routine with ease.

When the restaurant locked up for the day, Fellow would haul a drowsy Gidel over his shoulder and to the small apartment upstairs. It was cramped and often smelled like tomato sauce, but it was home and it was theirs.

"You like livin' like this, Giddie?" Fellow asked as he laid the young boy down on a small cot. "It beats havin' to scam folks just to get on by, but some days I miss the open road and the freedom that came with it."

Gidel yawned--and Fellow suspected that his question had fallen upon deaf ears. He shook his head, pulling a thin patchwork comforter over him.

"... Never mind, I'll ask ya again in the morning. Sleep tight, little buddy."

#twst #twisted wonderland #Fellow Honest #Gidel #twst interactions #twisted wonderland interactions #Reader #self insert #Gino #Ernesto Foulworth #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #a fellow in need is a friend indeed #twst imagines #twst scenarios #twisted wonderland scenarios

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yanderefarm · 4 days ago

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@yanoverload easter

i feel a lil awkward doing an easter for crows characters but not a full one like this for mine but... they have less characters and like this is the easter content they deserve. i hope i captured them properly... hugos is bad but i tried my best.

general cw;; yandere stuff suggestive stuff

Eliphas

He doesn't understand the holiday almost at all. When you tell him about things like egg hunts he finds it stupid. That doesn't stop him from secretly hiding a bunch of eggs around the area. They're all real eggs so if you don't find them all its going to smell terrible in a few days. If you explained valentine's day to him as well you could make chocolate bunnies together. It'll be a mess.

After the day starts to wind down and the sun sets Eliphas changes his clothes into something more lacey and see through though it's embarrassing. His face is red as he explains to you his own holiday. With spring comes a new cycle of life and birth and he wants to make new life with you. His cheeks burn as he sits on your stomach, his thin negligee slipping off his shoulders. You'll help him bring in the spring won't you?

Ramune

Holy holidays like Easter aren't really a demon's thing. The only way Ramune really celebrates is by dressing up as a girly slutty bunny on stream and making fun of people who donate to him. Every ding of the donation calling him hot or asking him about his tail makes him laugh uproariously. Cruel comments about how do those idiots even realize he's a man or how they're so corny and pathetic. He's especially cruel feeding off all the horny attention from guys who don't have anyone else but him to spend Easter with. When one of his viewers point out that he's the same he flies into a fury screaming at his camera before shutting everything off.

You come home exhausted from your own plans with friends and family expecting to hit your bed and pass out. The demon sitting in your room has different plans. He's dressed head to toe in a sexy bunny costume that leaves nothing to the imagination, his finger twirls around his hair while his little fangs bite at his plump lips. Won't you help him with his fluffy bunny tail? He repeats the same lines he called corny hours before. You're too exhausted. He pushes it again, whining desperately as he spreads his thick thighs for you. You're the only one he has after all.

Beau

Leading up to Easter is an exciting time for a bakery, lots of pastel colored treats and fake grass made of shredded coconut. Beau is always busy this time of year so when it comes to the actual day you prepare all the food for the both of you. A nice wholesome little dinner with him and his granny complimented by delicious cupcakes. Beau gives you a basket full of goodies he picked out just for you and you give him a little basket much the same. What a wholesome holiday.

But again when night comes its hard not to notice how the stress of working so hard has taken such a toll on him. It's even harder not to notice how his swollen and full udders haven't been properly milked in a week. He sits on your shared bed, a blush on his cheeks as what's been building up all spring season finally hits his body hard. Your hands rub circles into his aching shoulders as he lets out a happy moo. It's ok you promise to help take good care of him through his breeding cycle.

Dae-ho

Your Easters used to be normal joyous occasions where you got to spend time with your family and loved ones. It's something you desperately needed now more than ever but the same cruel circumstances that make you desperate for human connection keeps you locked away from it. Instead you're in your law offices going over your upcoming case with a lump in your throat. When will it happen again? Who will he get this time? He's been so quiet since the horrifying Valentine's debacle.

You never expected that when you came home long after the sun had already set to find something so... normal. Relatively speaking. An Easter dinner lovingly crafted and mixed with traditional Korean dishes was set out at a table that was surrounded by large bunny plushies. It looked delicious. You would probably cave and eat it after you changed into your pajamas. However when you opened the bedroom door there he was. The phantom haunting your life was dressed in cute soft bunny pjs and sleeping soundly on your bed. Your fingers gently brushed some of his hair out of his face which caused him to stir. His soft red eyes gazed up at you with utmost adoration.

Mono

Another demon who finds no interest in Easter. Well he didn't until he learned that you were going to take him out to meet your family. At a park!! His tail hadn't stopped wagging since then. He hadn't liked being forced to wear a shirt and he really didn't like being forced to use silverware to eat. But the thing Mono hated the most about Easter? All the other dogs your family members had!! Your relative's dogs would excitedly greet you only for your big guard dog to wrap his arms around your waist and start growling. He growled at every dog, his ears laying flat. One time his bangs even slipped a little bit and the poor dog had to go hide under a bench. But other than all those awful things Mono loved Easter! He loved playing Easter games in the park, he loved eating a bunch of ham (almost half), he loved you petting him and telling him he was being good! He might actually really love Easter!!

When you finally got home was his favorite part. You drew a nice bath and he was sitting by the tub wagging his tail. He was such a good boy today wasn't he? He was!! Your fingers brushed back his hair, his own hand shooting up to stop you from revealing his eyes. Your cute puppy. He definitely deserves a treat for being a good boy. He deserves his collar and a night in your bed doesn't he?

Aiko

Aiko is used to Easter traditions, she's used to the same plans she's had with her husband for years now. But that's not happening anymore, is it? The house feels emptier as the holiday approaches. She's grateful when you agree to stop by after your own celebrations. She's already planning how to keep you there and never let you leave her side. She didn't expect for you to come over with an entire dinner and two extravagant Easter baskets. You explained how the bigger one was from your relatives, how they're big fans of her. Of course she cared more about the slightly smaller one, the one you seemed more embarrassed by. Awkwardly telling her how you hoped it would bring her joy. She pulled out a little white rabbit plush with bright blue horns. Her heart was racing.

You didn't even get the chance to reheat the food before you were pinned to the floor. Your back pressed right against the carpet and your arms pinned above your head. Aiko sat on your stomach, her soft thighs helping her hold you in place. There was a coy smile on her lips as she leaned in close. You should be more careful with a dragon during mating season.

Himmel

Easter as we know it doesn't exist there but there's a similar religious holiday that takes place in the middle of spring. Of course you would expect and respect the saintess to spend the holiday with her god while you prepared things for the spring festival in the capital. Two of you doing completely separate things. It was hard to be pretending to practice a religious holiday that Himmel could not be less interested in. It was hard to pretend like he didn't want to drop everything and run to your side. It was too much.

One night with the week long holiday almost over Himmel found himself drawn from the temple to your room. He was surprised to see you still awake, one hand buried in your hair in frustration as you worked by candle light. His body pressed against the door made it let out a creak as it opened a bit more. Why was he here? He couldn't answer you. He just needed to see you. It was sinful the way you kissed him but neither of you raised any concern. Your limbs quickly becoming tangled.

Hayato

Before for Easter you would have just played a cute cozy game with your girlfriend and eaten dinner with your family. Now? You're not allowed to leave her home. You can't go home for Easter not in the position you're in now. So instead you decide to make the best of it. A small celebration with your boyfriend girlfriend. You ordered a basket with a bunch of cute plushies and new jewelry for him. You figured that and some Chinese takeout would make enough of a celebration. You didn't expect him to start crying at your gifts, though you probably should have.

You also didn't expect her to awkwardly corner you in your shared bedroom. He revealed underneath his clothes was a sexy bunny costume that didn't fit him exactly right. He took in a shaky breath as he tried to read your shocked reaction. She couldn't help but start crying again as she tried in vain to cover her body with her arms. She didn't look cute like the girls in the pictures or the pretty little feminine boys online. She was just ugly she sobbed. You collected yourself and grabbed her arms as you continued to stare in awe at the sexy sight. It was hard to comfort her with the sexy sight of her pinkish nipples peaking out past the too big bra cups. It was easier to reassure her just how sexy she looked with your mouth on hers.

Hugo

How does someone explain a religious holiday to an unholy creation? You don't even have the heart to correct his assumption that Jesus was like him because it just makes him so happy. Though you do have to tell him not to say that in front of other people. Living in a town like this it's important Easter day to go to church and then the Easter lunch afterwards. You are more than welcome to take home some leftovers to your new abomination. And more than leftovers you bring him a few flowers and some bunnies you carved from wood. His eyes light up so cutely when he sees the little hop hops as he calls them. It's even cuter watching him make them hop around and play together. His face goes a dark shade of green in embarrassment when he accidentally drops one bunny in a naughty position with another bunny. It's hard not to laugh at his cute reaction.

Maybe you two will be like the bunnies? But your teasing doesn't work on him as you notice him grow completely still. He fidgets a little bit before those big eyes are looking up at you. Can we? Oh... Can you?

#yanoverload #crowverse

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thiniceofeternalyouth · 29 days ago

Text

MISLEADIN' ME SERIES: CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

"MY BEST ARTWORK"

⊳ Gojo Satoru x f!reader

series masterlist

Genre: angst, fluff, sci-fi, cosmology.

Words count: ~14.7k

⊲ previous

[December 9, 2023, 8:43pm; USA, State of Alaska, Utqiagvik]

It was still a long time before Christmas, but the small town on the edge of the Earth had already begun to come alive and transform - the winter winds carried not only the cold but also the smells of baking and ginger cookies, the wooden facades glittered with garlands, and almost every house had a small but colorfully decorated Christmas tree. You didn't even have to look out the windows, for even with the corner of your eye you could see the bustle in every kitchen.

You were on your way home from shopping - while Gojo was carrying an obscene number of bags, you were sipping on the cold chocolate milk he had solemnly handed you when you offered to help. Finally reaching the house, you perked up and literally ran to the door, almost tripping on the step. "Careful," laughed the sorcerer, grabbing you by the collar.

"Brrr," you shivered involuntarily, barely crossing the threshold and looking at yourself in the small mirror by the entrance - the frost on your eyelashes and eyebrows immediately melted away, but your face was still red.

Gojo rustled the bags and set them on the floor. "I'll turn on the battery," he grinned, and, kissing you on the forehead, walked off in the bedroom. You mentally thanked him - he was always worrying about the little things, thus constantly and imperceptibly making your life easier and simpler. Whether he did it intentionally or unconsciously, it still felt good. You sniffed and took off your wet jacket, and, as was your new habit in this house, you took off your mask, too.

You squatted down beside the bags and rummaged through them - among the piles of groceries and bathroom utensils, there were also a few crystal glasses and, to your delight, the very plates with thin gold lines that had caught your eye only a short time ago. With a satisfied smile, you grabbed the bag of laundry supplies and went into the bathroom to put everything in its place.

While you were arranging it, humming softly to yourself, there was a short, jingling crack and clank in the kitchen, and you rounded your eyes in surprise. "I hope it's just your eye fell out," you warned, remembering your beautiful plates you just bought.

When you walked into the kitchen, the first thing you saw was Gojo's confused and guilty look, though only the shards of one of the crystal glasses were lying on the floor. "It just fall off, I didn't do anything," he tried to justify himself, but all you cared about were his hands.

"Are ya okay?" you asked worriedly. Carefully you stepped around the broken glass and gently took his palms in your hands and examined them - the wounds healed right before your eyes, but the scarlet blood that had just oozed from them remained on his hands. You stared at the red droplets, mesmerized, not even feeling the saliva beginning to pool in your mouth.

"Baby?" Gojo called you cautiously, squeezing your palms harder.

You stirred, horrified to realize your thought. "I... I'm just hungry," you waved it off, picking up the shards from the floor.

The sorcerer frowned - your words carried a double meaning, and he understood each one of them, but remembering your words about diet, he didn't pressure you with it. "Then how about gyoza?" asked Gojo, joining you with picking glass shards from the floor.

"Sounds delicious!" you chirped, and he chuckled wistfully - your mood was still changing by the click as if you still didn't feel safe around him when you were vulnerable. "But what's that?"

Laughing, he explained the recipe to you - in words it looked simple, ordinary Japanese dumplings. You both quickly cleaned up the kitchen from glass and rummaged through the groceries you had bought. Luckily, you had everything you needed for the dough, and the filling could be anything from fish to beef. "Then I'll do the dough," you boldly declared. "You cut the shrimps."

"How cruel," Gojo chuckled, and you averted your eyes awkwardly. "I like it," he reassured you, kissing the top of your head.

Ten minutes later, the whole kitchen was covered in oil and flour, and you were trying desperately to turn the dough into a thin layer, but it would not budge and you had to start all over again. Whether it you were all thumbs today or it was your dizziness to blame - Gojo had long since washed the blood off his hands, but you could still smell it. You tried desperately to control your breathing, but it kept coming out of you in heavy spurts, like a bird that couldn't fly. Sweat trickled down the back of your neck, freezing your skin and making you shudder. You clenched your teeth as your eyes watered.

"Nose!" you shouted suddenly, turning to the sorcerer - he dropped the knife in surprise.

"Mochi, what...," he began fearfully.

"Nose! My nose! Scratch it, hurry!" when he heard your command, he staggered back and looked at your face with a dazed look for a second, then turned his gaze to your raised hands, which were covered in flour.

Laughing, Gojo began to stroke the tip of your nose with his fingertip, and by the look on his cheeky face, he did it on purpose. You squinted crossly, and with a smile, he gave in and began scratching as he should. With a satisfied exhale, you turned away and started to torture the dough again.

"That's it?" the sorcerer asked resentfully, pouting his lips. "You used me, and you didn't even say 'thank you'?"

"Lean down a little," you commanded slyly, and before he could playfully respond to your impulse, you grabbed him by the chin and kissed him fervently. Before Gojo realized what was happening, you'd already pulled away from him - he hung his head, snorting frustratedly, and resumed slicing the seafood.

"Baby?" he turned to you uncertainly, and you noticed out of the corner of your eye that he'd stopped cooking, just pretending to hold the knife weakly in his hand. You, pursing your lips, nodded your head weakly. "Don't you… Don't you wanna come back?" the sorcerer asked cautiously.

You didn't say anything, but he could hear you holding your breath and he could feel your heart skip a beat. "You know that I'm not gonna push you," he reassured you, putting the knife away and coming up behind you - putting his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder, he kept looking at your frowning profile and the monotonous way you were rolling out the dough. Gently rubbing his nose against your neck, he kissed your shoulder. "It's just... uh… Actually, Danielle's pregnant," your reaction awakened glimpses of a ridiculous smile on his face - you, frozen in place, slowly turned your head.

There was interest in your gaze, and Gojo would have admired it for eternity, but what burned brighter than curiosity was guilt, glassy and sticky. "You don't have to show up in front of them and make excuses," he said softly, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. "We can watch from afar, can't we? What do you think?"

[December 10, 2023, 05:09pm; Kyoto, Kyoto Prefecture, Kyoto College]

The sun was shining bright and warm, though the cold snow crunched under your feet. You were sitting on the roof of one of the college temples - from here you had a beautiful view of the whole site. As you wrapped yourself tighter in your jacket, whether from the cold or embarrassment, Gojo kept glancing up at you. His gaze was both sly and troubled, his heart thudding with fear and shame.

You stared longingly at the silhouettes in the distance in the training stadium - you couldn't quite make out each one, but you could feel Danielle's presence among them. The urge to get closer, to look at her, to see if she had changed or stayed the same was unbearably irresistible, but you didn't dare move. Before you could sigh, you were out of breath.

The sudden sneak attack from the person closest to you made your head spin - you stood on your own two feet away from those who had no idea you were there. You turned your head slowly, not believing what was happening, and looked at Gojo - in your gaze he immediately considered bewilderment and fright, but he only smiled mischievously. "Come on, how long are you going to stand here?" he pulled you by the shoulder towards your loved ones.

"I'm not going anywhere!" you blurted out.

"Relocate."

You weren't far away, literally ten paces behind him, but you were quickly going away, arms crossed over your chest. "Where do you think you're going?" he shouted, laughing, and then he was behind you, pulling you back by the shoulders. Your attempts to evaporate failed - everyone in the training stadium already looked at you in disbelief. "Scaredy-cat!" he taunted you, turning you around and pushing you forward, towards the others.

"Ya said we were just gonna watch from afar!" you whined, fighting back.

"But you were so eager to see Danielle's belly," the sorcerer hid his true good motives behind a sly tone. "She's only five months pregnant, what are you gonna see from that rooftop?"

The closer Gojo drew you, the hotter your heart and cheeks became - shame burned away all common sense, and nausea came to your throat. You didn't fight back, but you couldn't lift your head - you stared fearfully at the ground. Until you saw someone's feet.

An awkward silence pressed against your temples. When you realized there was nowhere to go, you slowly took your eyes off the ground. Dany was standing in front of you - you noticed involuntarily but disappointedly that you couldn't see anything under her winter coat, and only then did you notice her empty eyes, but the storm of emotion was revealed by the slightly contorted face and furrowed brows, as if someone had squeezed her arm painfully. "Dany, I...," you began, taking a step forward and not knowing what to say next or how to justify yourself. To your surprise, she rushed toward you, but you didn't have time to spread your arms out for a hug - just as she was at your side, the sound of a slap resounded through the stadium.

You instinctively put your palm to the blazing spot and looked up at her, blinking dazedly - there were tears in her empty eyes now.

"Danielle!" barked Gojo sternly. You were suddenly pulled in and your face was hidden - he pulled you against his chest while you still pressed your palm to your cheek in confusion. "Manners!" he hissed more quietly, leaning toward her.

"Back off!" she exploded in response. Maybe it was the hormones, or maybe it was the accumulated bitterness from the moment you left her.

"It's okay," you pulled away from the sorcerer slightly, chuckling nervously. "It felt like it was deserved," you turned to the girl again. Sighing raggedly, you opened your mouth again, but this time you were interrupted by a heated hug - she snuggled up against you, hiding her crying face in your neck. If before you were just scared and confused, now you were numb - you didn't know what you were supposed to do. You squeezed her against you in return, and caught the stern look of Megumi, who was standing nearby. It had only been a few months, but this separation had helped you see him as a man instead of a boy. You shifted your gaze to the young students who were training under Fushiguro's command - apparently, he had ordered them to train despite the scene that had unfolded. You felt doubly embarrassed. "I'm sorry," you whispered in Danielle's ear, and even though you knew Fushiguro wouldn't hear your sincere words, you still hoped he could read your lips.

Regretfully admitting that you never would have come back if you hadn't been pressed for time, you pulled Danielle even tighter against you - a silent admission of guilt, a timid attempt to beg forgiveness. They were hurt too, but they stayed. They didn't run away, they didn't close their eyes, they didn't pretend like nothing had happened - even though they were young, they accepted what had happened as part of their fate. "Well, what do we have here...," you mumbled awkwardly, placing your hands on the girl's stomach. Danielle, blushing, wrapped her palms around your hands and pressed them a little harder.

"Ya are not likely to feel it through jacket...," Dany replied shyly as you began stroking her belly, fumbling for changes. "Why don't we go inside?" she hesitantly suggested in a quiet voice.

You looked back at Gojo - he was glowing brighter than a star and smiling as he looked at you. "Go on," he chirped happily, kissing the top of your head. "I've still got...," he grimaced for just a moment, remembering how many missed calls from Masamichi were glowing on his phone screen. "A couple of troubles," he finished cheerfully, looking at the minka that housed Principal Yaga's office.

"Should I start worrying?" you ask sternly, raising an eyebrow.

"Absolutely not!" he assured you, and before you could start digging deeper, disappeared from your sight.

"Handling it?" giggled Dany with a good-natured sneer.

"Well...," you said slyly, and slowly raised your hand - when Danielle saw your wrist, she stopped talking and froze, her mouth hanging open in amazement. Her gaze darted hesitantly between the watch, the ring, and your face - the more she realized, the more she frowned.

"Congratulations!" she shrieked loudly, squealing with joy, and pounced on you with renewed vigor - the two of you nearly falling to the ground.

"Danielle, be careful!" anxiously shouted Megumi.

"Fussing over me like a mother hen. I'm not a little girl," muttered the girl grumpily, glaring angrily at him, but as she turned to you, her face brightened again. "Well, tell me! How was it? When? Where? Did ya cry? And him?"

"Whoa, easy!" you laughed. "I'll tell you everything. Ya go inside, and I wanna have a word with him," you nodded toward Fushiguro.

"About?" asked Dany incredulously, squinting suspiciously.

"About ya not being little girls anymore," you chuckled and nudged her in the direction of the dormitory. She looked back at you, pouting, and gave you a resentful look before snorting and walking briskly toward the building.

You slowly approached Megumi - he didn't seem to pay any attention to you, just continued to watch the new students practicing. The awkwardness was present, but it wasn't building. You decided that you had nothing to lose, so you sat down on the snow-covered grass.

Megumi, who had ignored you until now, finally looked up at you with a perplexed but grim look - he sat down beside you with a short sigh. The pain of confusing words curled tightly right in your throat - unimagined, they wanted to come out, but you didn't know what you should say, but you couldn't leave silently either. "So… ya are a teacher now?" you asked, smiling awkwardly.

"Replacing Gojo in his absence," Megumi replied coldly. "So yeah... I guess you could say I'm a full-fledged teacher now. Besides, I and Principal Yage have to deal with his paperwork," the boy scowled. "So... If you ever decide to run away again, run somewhere closer," he added more softly, looking away.

You grinned wistfully, tucking your legs under you, making yourself comfortable. "Ya know, ya... uh. Ya've matured."

A rare look of surprise flashed across Fushiguro's face. "Yeah... I guess. Not that I had a choice," he muttered, scratching the back of his head.

He'd had to keep people safe before, but now he was a husband and a father, and that branded a protector on his heart forever. Or maybe it was because you hadn't seen him in a very long time. "Well... I'm glad," you smiled, and as you cupped his face, the boy nearly choked and a pale blush appeared on his cheeks, though not even the cold could do that. "But now I know ya'll always be able to protect Danielle," you said softly, squeezing his cheeks lightly.

"I don't like the way you say it," he cut off restlessly, staring at you intently. In the depths of his blue eyes, speculation swam but sank in.

"That was just a compliment, boy," you laughed, removing your hands. Sighing happily, you rose to your feet. "Now I have to go to your wife for questioning. See ya," you chirped, ruffling his hair.

Danielle tortured you for at least an hour. You had to tell her everything, every little detail, from where you'd settled to how and where Gojo had proposed to you. Of course, you avoided too intimate and racy details, because in front of you was still the same Danielle you had bathed and fed when she was a child. You couldn't see her as a grown-up girl, and even the fact that she was carrying a baby under her heart didn't help dispel the nostalgic image of her.

While she sat on the couch eating chips, you sat on the floor in front of her. Your hands rested on her small, rounded belly, and you hypnotized it with your gaze. You glanced questioningly, suspiciously at Dany - she shrugged guiltily. "Honestly, baby was restless before this. But he's quiet now. And thank goodness," she mumbled.

"I didn't realize they started moving so early," you mused thoughtfully, stroking her belly.

"Me too," Danielle laughed out loud. "Ieiri said it's individualized, but on average the baby starts to move noticeably at 18-20 weeks. And I'm already at... 22? I'm not sure."

Whether it was a phantom or the truth, but you felt as if your palm had been quietly kicked. You looked at each other in amazement. "I think he felt ya," Dany said gently, stroking her stomach as if reassuring the one who was inside. "Baby, can you feel it? It's your...," she looked at you, and pressed her lips together to keep from laughing. "Grandma."

You rolled your eyes so that only the whites remained visible. "No way."

"Yeah, that's right," Danielle chirped cheerfully, popping a chip in her mouth. "I'll complain to ya about how hard motherhood is, about his tummy cramps, about his teething, and I'll send him to ya for the weekends."

You shook your head as if in rebuke, but you couldn't stop smiling. "And ya've already got it all planned out."

"Of course!" exclaimed Danielle indignantly. "When I found out I was pregnant, I almost lost my mind! At first, I couldn't bear the thought of becoming a mother, and then I was terrified - even if I could, what kind of mother would I be? I didn't know anything about it. But Ieiri reassured me that no parent is perfect and advised me to start planning while I had time, so that it would be easier. She gave me all kinds of books, both medical and psychological, so… I'm not even afraid of childbirth so much anymore."

The prick of conscience was right on your heart - the bitter liquid was injected slowly, giving you time to realize what you'd done. Without saying anything, you rested your head gently on her stomach, pressing your cheek against it. You didn't lean on it, you seemed to just hold your head in the air. And your imagination was quietly making you hear two heartbeats. "It's okay. Or rather... I'm still angry. But not so much anymore," Danielle muttered, and you flinched as you felt her stroking your hair.

"How's Mike doing?" you asked quietly.

"From a normal ordinary of view, horrible. But when you take into account everything he's been through... Quite bearable," Danielle admitted honestly, continuing to stroke you. "It wasn't... It wasn't her, was it?"

"No," you said, remembering your sister.

Danielle didn't push you. She suspected something was wrong, and even though you were a dioreact, you'd never thrown yourself at anyone close to you before. At least, she'd never seen it or known about it. "That's what I thought..."

"Can I... see him?" you asked cautiously, squeezing her thighs slightly. You had no one else to ask, for it was Danielle who had taken over the care of Rachel's son after her death. And, for some reason, you needed her consent.

"Sure you can, but... I'm not sure he'll talk to ya," Danielle said hesitantly, looking away even though you weren't looking at her. "He's basically almost stopped talking. Sits in his room all day long. Either sleeping or collecting model airplanes. I've tried taking him outside, introducing him to kids his own age, and it's like he never even resists, it's just... I don't know. It's like he's not here. I even tried to explain to him what happened, but he didn't react at all..."

You couldn't know how your meeting with Mike would go, but even if the mere sight of you could awaken a simple emotion like anger in him, then it wouldn't all be for nothing. "So where is he?"

"Follow me," Danielle sighed understandingly, lifting herself up as you took her arms and helped her to her feet. "My lower back is starting to hurt so bad," she grumbled, rubbing her back.

You followed her obediently through the corridors, and every once in a while your anxious thoughts about the meeting would drift away - you marveled at how Danielle had navigated such a place. Your old house had been so much easier. You cringed as memories swirled before your eyes, from the warmest to the most heartbreaking.

When Dany stopped at one of the doors, you froze with her, out of breath. Your body felt heavy like it was filled with lead, and you didn't dare blink lest you ruin it right now. What should you have said to him?

She opened the door with a nod and stepped into the room - you could see the child's slumped back and shoulders through the gap. Mike was monotonously picking something up and didn't even pay attention to the fact that someone had invaded his personal space. "Mike," Danielle gently called out to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Someone's here to see ya."

The boy didn't express even a modicum of curiosity or interest. He didn't even let on that he'd heard her. Danielle turned to you and shook her head dejectedly. Now it was up to you whether or not to enter the room.

Stepping hesitantly across the threshold, you left your pride in the hallway. "Hey, Mike," he stiffened when he heard your voice. His body tensed and his hands clenched into fists - even from here, you could see them trembling. But it wasn't fear at all.

He jumped up, clutching the box cutter in his hand, and backed away to the wall, as if looking to it for protection. You were looking at yourself through someone else's eyes - that's what they saw in you. "Go away," the boy hissed, extending the little knife in your direction.

His voice no longer sounded like a child's. Maybe he hadn't spoken for too long, or maybe his age had added to his hatred. You slowly raised your hands, trying with your whole appearance to show what he was looking for now - safety. "Mike, I..."

"Get out!" he shouted, lunging forward and displaying his knife.

"Okay, I'll leave. Don't worry," you tried to say as softly as you could, and you were starting to feel sick of your own voice. You slowly stepped away, toward the door, still holding your hands out in front of you as you were chased away by furious eyes.

Once at the door, you quickly slammed it shut and leaned your back against it - you were breathing heavily, and you'd be horrified if you saw your reflection.

"Y/N, ya okay?...," Dany asked cautiously, stepping closer to you and placing her hands on your trembling shoulders. You were finding it too hard to control yourself. You couldn't contain yourself even in front of a small child. Something was happening to you, and there was nothing you could do about it.

"Yeah...," you tried to brush it off, smiling. "Come on. You haven't finished your chips yet."

Danielle anxiously shuffled beside you. "Give him time. It'll come out much better next time, I'm sure..."

"It's okay, Dany," you assured her detachedly. "Maybe someday Mike will understand why I did what I did," you scratched the back of your head awkwardly. "And if he doesn't... Soon it won't matter."

"What do you mean?" alarmed Danielle, grabbing your arm.

"It's nothing like that," you chuckled, squeezing her palm. "I'm just saying that not much in this world can be that significant for too long," despite your words, the unease in Danielle's heart only grew. You were here with her, but by the ghosts of your deeds you made yourself a ghost, and it seemed to everyone around you that you could disappear at any moment. "Let's go outside. We need some fresh air."

Danielle nodded, understanding you - she was having trouble breathing, too. You stepped out of the minka, and you took off your jacket and laid it on the porch, thinking that it was inappropriate for a pregnant girl to sit on the cold steps. "Sit down here," you patted the jacket next to you.

"You shouldn't have...," Dany was embarrassed.

"Just sit down already."

Danielle snorted and sat up obediently, but her displeasure quickly dissipated with the winter wind. She glimpsed you - you weren't even shivering, and your appearance had returned to normal. How much strength did it take for you to keep your sanity? How did it feel on the inside? Was it excruciatingly painful, or did you not notice at all who lived with you in your own body? She began to understand you and your actions - if she shared a body with an entity whose motives were vague and sometimes bloodthirsty, she would probably want to escape from everything and everyone, too.

But somehow, you loved them all. And cared for them as best you could and as you understood this word. The girl had no doubts about that. "Y/N...," she began, faltering slightly and wrapping herself more tightly in her jacket, watching the wind carry the snowflakes away. "It was... it was you who killed Yoichi, wasn't it?"

"Yeah," you nodded, and not a muscle in your face quivered. Danielle knew it was wrong to be so happy about someone else's death, but inside everything was jubilant, and her heart was now pouring not blood but the gold of justice. "And the other one... I mean, I'll kill Christian too. Don't worry about it."

You've already regretted your decision to stay in college with everyone else. They were both your strength and your weakness. They were the people you wanted to protect, and they were also the people the blood flowed through - it was a hot call and a sweet whisper that beckoned to you, and you could barely resist. You either locked yourself in your room or forgot yourself in the training sessions Megumi had arranged for you. He seemed to mock you, pushing you beyond your limits, but you didn't say a word, didn't complain, and your eyes glowed with silent gratitude.

It was worse when Gojo wasn't around. When he hugged you, your essence wouldn't open its mouth, as if it was afraid of him, afraid of what he might do to it, or else it trembled at his presence, so much so that it didn't want to scare him away, just so long as he stayed close. But all this was a mockery for your soul, heart, and mind - as soon as the sorcerer left, it began to whisper fanatically to you about hunger.

You woke up early in the morning to a hot, longing kiss, though Gojo was only gone for a few days - an urgent mission, but he was hugging you, pressing your body into his, as if he wanted to be one. After you escorted him out the door to his whimpering, you went into the bathroom, staring at yourself in the blurry little mirror hanging on the wall. You couldn't tell the difference between reality and dream - your face was either normal or contorted in a grimace of anger or madness.

'You're hungry...'

Not a question, not a concern - an assertion you couldn't resist. You sharply splashed cold water on your face, leaning over the sink. Dark lines crawled up your arms, and you clenched your teeth at the insolence. The whisper wasn't a single phrase; it echoed throughout your mind, making you squint your eyes in pain.

'What are you going to do...?'

You didn't dignify the entity with a response - it was provoking you, pulling at your taut strings. But you were one, and you read its motives like a book - it wasn't asking about base desires, not about satiation, but it knew that time was running out.

'Now you're weak...'

"Shut your mouth!" you yelled, grabbing your head. "I need to think..."

At what point did the voice of essence become the voice of reason? It was right - you could hardly stand simple training without eating properly; on the other hand, you felt like even a drop of blood could drive you insane. You were on edge, and you didn't know how to fight Rei in such a state. But you'd rather kill yourself than not go to him until the doomsday. Should you become like your tormentor, devouring people and gaining strength, or fall proudly as a human?

After standing under a cold shower for an hour, you went for a training. You strained your body so hard that you could no longer feel it, and even then you kept running. Megumi immediately realized the failure of his idea to put you against the new students - they couldn't do anything to you, even though you didn't even try to avoid their blows. All you had to do was drown in physical exertion, diluted with blows of cursed energy.

By evening, the students began to disperse, and so did you. Woozy, you made your way to the kitchen, hoping to silence your hunger for at least a minute by emptying the entire fridge. A tired pair of eyes met you here - Ieiri, still dressed in her white robe, was sipping her wine, sitting alone at the table. "Finished already?"

"Uh-huh," you sighed tiredly, grabbing an armful of pre-made sandwiches from the fridge and dropping into the chair next to Shoko. You snatched the glass from her and drained it in a gulp under her exhausted, surprised gaze, and she took the second glass and poured more wine.

"It's not actually water," she said, clucking her tongue.

"I know. I'm not Jesus," you mumbled, panting and wiping your mouth with your hand. "Too bad. I could supply ya with wine for the rest of your life."

Ieiri chuckled quietly. "Has Gojo left yet?" she asked quietly but suddenly.

"This morning," she immediately saw you grimace as you mechanically chewed your sandwich. You were both tired, but you couldn't even move your arms, and your legs were spread out under the table as if they'd been severed from your body. There was a reason you were making such a mockery of yourself.

"How is it going?" she asked softly, nodding her head at you and examining the watch on your wrist.

"Are you talking about training or my life with a sex terrorist?" you mumbled reluctantly.

"Is it that bad?" she tried to joke, but there was worry lurking in her eyes and a willingness to eat her best friend alive - it all depended on your answer.

"Oh, no," you rebelled, but lit up with indignation. "I feel like a princess," you hissed, squirming in your chair. "But if Ariel had to give up her voice to get legs in the name of love, then I have to give up my voice and sit in a wheelchair. Ieiri, I can't handle him," you shook your head, staring at her with eyes round with terrible realization. "I just don't have as much stamina as he does."

"Do you have any idea how lazy this asshole is outside of work?" she laughed, grabbing her glass. "I'm sure it's not about stamina at all."

"And that's supposed to make me feel better?" you resented, biting down furiously on your sandwich.

"Have you talked to him about needing a break?"

You faded, feeling the embarrassment building up. "Yeah. He gets off me without questions, even though he whines. Problem is, I end up on top of him myself later for some reason. He's not a sorcerer. He's a warlock. A dark one."

There were joyful footsteps - Danielle had heard your voices in the kitchen, and, tired of sitting alone in the four walls of her room, she ran to you. "What are you discussing?" she chirped cheerfully, holding her belly and pushing back the chair next to you. She gave you a sly look and snatched one sandwich from under your nose.

"Aged sex," Ieiri replied thoughtfully, sipping from her glass.

"Ugh," Danielle grumbled, shifting her gaze from Shoko to you.

"Excuse me?" you drawled indignantly. "It's waiting ya, too."

"No way," Danielle mumbled, taking a bite of her sandwich - she nearly cried when she felt like she wasn't nauseous anymore. Toxicosis had plagued her so badly and for so long that she'd forgotten the taste of food except for tomatoes, which was the only thing her pregnancy had allowed her to eat for the first couple of months. She sighed contentedly and devoured the sandwich in two bites - even you couldn't do that. You stared at her stunned. "What?" she mumbled with her mouth full.

"She had terrible toxicosis," Ieiri explained, sighing. "I almost lost my mind. I'm a doctor, and I couldn't even help."

"It wasn't your fault," Danielle protested, but Shoko only waved her away.

But it was your fault. You weren't here, you weren't comforting her, you weren't there for her like you were for Rachel. Not fulfilling her wants and whims, and you were grateful Megumi was doing that for her. "And not yours either," she added quietly, seeing you lost in thought. "So...," she chirped in a cheerful voice. "Are ya guys here at the college celebrating Christmas?"

"Nope," Ieiri shook her head. "It's not really celebrated in Japan either. I mean, there's no religious overtones to it. So we don't really do it here."

It was obvious how upset Danielle was - her shoulders slumped and she bit her lip in resentment. "Can't we at least decorate the Christmas tree?" she suggested embarrassedly. "And have a movie marathon."

"We should talk to the others about it...," Shoko brooded without enthusiasm.

"I'll get right on it!" squeaked Danielle enthusiastically, rising from her seat. You gave the fluttering girl a stunned look.

"Just imagine how bored she is," Ieiri sighed. "Megumi's afraid to let her go outside the college walls alone like that, and he's always at practice. She's grasping at everything."

"Well... Actually, she's always been like that," you shrugged, taking the wine glass in your hands. "It's just that under these circumstances, her behavior can be... a little hypertrophied."

"What about you?" despite the simplicity of the question, your insides dropped with surprise. "Planning anything for the holidays?"

You hummed under your breath, glaring at the table as you froze with your glass in your hands. "I don't know. He didn't say when he'd be back," you replied evasively, leaning the cold glass to your lips absently and not looking up at Shoko. Ieiri squinted, watching you, and shook her head. "It doesn't make sense," you drawled. "I mean, he's the strongest, why does it take so long to hunt down a curse sometimes?" you asked, hoping to change the subject.

"That's the problem," Ieiri replied, and her gaze became piercing - she wasn't about to let go of the previous topic of conversation. "The curses are so feared by him that finding them takes so much more out of him than exiling them," Shoko didn't know what made the anger boil up inside her - she pressed her lips together with force lest suspicion and anger seep between her words. "What about the wedding? Any ideas yet?" she continued to press, glancing at the watch on your wrist.

"Mmm... Nope. We haven't planned it yet," you replied thoughtfully, scratching the back of your head.

"Strange," Ieiri spat out, and you gave her a dazed look - the woman immediately faltered and her face relaxed a little. "I mean, it's weird that he hasn't gotten on you with it yet."

"It's not that...," you wanted to cower at her insight, but you continued to maintain an indifferent look. "We kinda glimpsed some details, but-"

"What are you up to?" interrupted Ieiri unceremoniously, pitching forward.

You lifted your chin a little, answering Shoko with her own weapon - you stared straight into her eyes, accepting the challenge. She could press you all she wanted, but you knew yourself how well you could keep your own and others' secrets. No matter how much the woman asked, no matter how much she tried to get at the truth, you would carry the memory of his promise to the demons with you to your grave. "Nothing," you put a stop to the conversation with a shake of your head.

Hopetown was as quiet as ever in the evening, not even the birds singing through the open window, let alone the voices of the people in their homes. It had been a week since the battue - now you were taking a well-deserved rest before going out again to raid and search the void for settlement. Frank had insisted on a family dinner this morning, but it was just you and Rachel in the kitchen - in house in general.

You monotonously peeled carrots for soup while your sister flipped through the tinder, occasionally showing you the candidates. A pot of water was already simmering on the stove, and outside the window the sunset was dissolving into dusk, and you were already thinking that no family dinner was going to happen. "How about this one?" asked Rachel thoughtfully, showing you the phone screen.

"He's got it written all over his face that he lives with his mom," you muttered, wrinkling your nose in disgust.

"I'm interested in what's in his pants, not who he's living with," Rachel snarled, turning away from you, but you caught a glimpse of her swiping to the left.

"If Frank would hear you like that...," you drawled in a teasing tone.

"Yeah," Rach rolled her eyes. "He would have heard if he'd gotten back in time. I get the impression they just simply abandoned us."

"Well, we'll get more food," you shrugged nonchalantly.

"...which we cooked ourselves," she snorted, and you nearly exploded with indignation. She wasn't even helping you cook, just standing there like a piece of furniture. A beautiful piece of furniture.

A moment later, the door to the house swung open - you instantly made a hurt face and didn't even turn around to see who was there. You heard first heavy footsteps and a man's heavy breath, followed by a lighter, inaudible gait. "Girls, I told ya I'd do all the cooking myself," Frank grumbled, and you turned around to start your tirade, but you stopped as soon as you saw them - Kyle and Frank were covered in grass and dirt, both of them looking tired. Kyle looked at you meaningfully, smiling guiltily. "Sorry...," Frank sighed, pushing you away from the stove with his massive side and taking over the reins of cooking. "Late because of kitchen-garden," you pursed your lips in embarrassment, scratching the back of your head - sometimes you forgot how much effort and time it took to provide provisions for even your small family, let alone an entire village.

While Kyle took a quick bath, Frank just rinsed his hands and quickly prepared dinner - you were always surprised at how easy it was for him to do housework. When the table was set, the four of you sat down with rumbling bellies.

"Are we waitin' for fucking prayer or something?" Rachel broke the silence.

"One more remark like that, and I'll really make ya pray instead of eat," glared Frank.

The kitchen was filled with the sound of cutlery and requests for salt and pepper. Either you were hungry or Frank had magic hands, but the food was delicious - you thought so every time you tasted Frank's cooking, trying not to swallow your own tongue. Like Rachel and Kyle, you could feel his heavy gaze on you - you tried not to move lest you reawaken this conversation, but as soon as Frank took a closer look at the table, the record turned itself on. "There are too many empty chairs here...," the man muttered.

"Dad, don't," Kyle tried to stop him.

"What do ya mean?" the man exploded, as if Kyle had thrown more wood on the blazing fire. "Okay those two, I'm not relying on them anymore," he hissed, waving you away - you glimpsed at your sister. Sure, she didn't act like a good girl, but she had once tried to build a family and it had ended in heartbreak, which was what made her like this, but there was no way Frank could understand that. Frank wasn't a bad man, but sometimes he was blind to his own children's feelings. Rach's face contorted in pain for a second, and you gently placed a hand on her hip. "But ya're the loving and caring one, aren't you? I'll even settle for a man, just bring someone over already!" the man ordered.

"Not with our job," Kyle replied grimly, continuing to eat.

Frank exhaled dejectedly. "I understand..."

"No, Dad, you don't," Kyle insisted softly but coldly. You and your sister looked at each other awkwardly and stared at your plates, pretending nothing was going on. "You were the best hunter, and I have no doubt that what you went through was horrible. But neither you nor the other hunters will ever understand what we go through."

Frank looked around you sympathetically, lingering his gaze on you. He had never been to the void and only knew of what was going on there from your words. "Ya're right, and yet...," he was silent for a moment, casting a heavy silence over your house. "Look, I know that what ya're doing is extremely dangerous. But on the other hand...," he perked up, trying to cheer you up. "We've never been this close to Diomorphea before. We now have the most elusive, but still existent, chance to rid the world of this disease."

Even the forks stopped clinking. In the back of your minds, each of you knew that you had gotten very close to your enemy, but who would give who a hard slap remained a mystery. "Have ya... Have ya ever heard of philosophical zombies?" you cautiously cut into the conversation, picking at your food with your fork.

"Here we go again...," Rachel rolled her eyes, leaning back in her chair and directing all her attention back to her phone.

"Ya talking about supposed people that look like humans but have no consciousness?" asked Kyle softly, and you looked up at him.

"Yes," you nodded. "It's actually weird that people figured out the concept of dioreacts on their own without even knowing they existed," you grinned skeptically.

"So what's the bottom line... with the philosophical zombies?" asked Frank, watching you closely.

"I heard somewhere that they have a kind of consciousness. But not their own, uh... Well, let's say their thoughts that they think are their own come to them from the outside, but they can't understand it. So, I was thinking that... Maybe I can't sense the consciousness of dioreacts because only Diomorphea have it? After all, every dioreact is a part of it, and it would make sense that they would perceive its thoughts as their own."

Rachel even put her phone aside and began to listen in. "If it's true... It'll make our job easier. Ya could just erase her consciousness through isolation."

You shook your head grimly. "If it's true, I'm afraid we'll only run into more problems."

"Like...?" forced you to continue Kyle.

You've lost your appetite. You put your fork aside and pushed the nearly full plate of food away from you. "What makes ya think I can destroy it so easily? Ya have to realize that our minds are completely different. Let's just say that just as in our world bodies can't interact with each other by forces of different natures, Diomorphea and I won't be able to interact with each other. The other question is... will I even realize that it's not a human consciousness in front of me? Will the Diomorphea realize that I've been inside its head? And if it will, what's next? Will it attack, run away, or pretend to be human, knowing that I've kinda tested it? And even if we destroy it, will its parts disappear with it or stay in their bodies?" these questions were on the very surface, and you were afraid to dig any deeper. It could stall the whole process.

"Even if the dioreacts don't disappear, at least they'll never be able to merge with human bodies again, which will make them extremely vulnerable, and as for the Diomorphea... If we can't recognize if the consciousness is human in someone we suspect, then...," Frank began thoughtfully, scratching his chin and lost in thought.

"We'll have to wait for them to slip up on something else," you finished quickly, gibbering and immediately slamming your mouth shut, pushing your plate of food toward you.

"Do ya already have someone in mind?" asked Frank incredulously, raising his eyebrows meaningfully and drilling you with a glare.

"No," you shook your head. "No, no. Not yet," you mumbled, replaying your answer in your head until it sounded like the truth.

You looked at your phone screen. Gojo had been texting you all these days, asking you about everything and nothing, telling you how much he missed you, sending you pictures of things he found interesting, but there was no mention of when he was coming home.

Danielle still got everyone to decorate the tree - even those who were too lazy to do so. She encouraged her friends to cook with her and go shopping for gifts, which didn't make Fushiguro very happy - he couldn't go with her because of training, and the responsibility for the safety of his pregnant wife fell on Itadori's shoulders. The girl came to your door several times, knocking loudly on the door and asking you if you would be at the movie marathon she had planned for everyone on the night of the twenty-fourth to twenty-fifth. You looked for excuses - Dany didn't believe any of them, and it made her first resentful and then anxious. She only quietly asked you to think about it again, and then left you alone.

You couldn't tell her that you couldn't be around people anymore. Not when Gojo wasn't around. You could no longer hide the hungry grin, the thick saliva that accumulated in your mouth at the sight of warm skin and eyes that were now permanently black. You wished your hands were shackled and a chain around your neck, chained to a concrete wall - just so you knew you wouldn't hurt anyone.

You gripped the wooden table with dark claws, barely standing on your feet - there wasn't much time left. You sobbed softly. If only he would make it. You wanted to see him, to touch his hands, to hear his voice and the way he called your name.

You looked at your phone screen. December twenty-fourth was slowly dying before your eyes.

You raised your head sharply, waiting, your keen hearing picking up the quiet rattle of keys on the other side of the door. You were at the door in a flash, and you swung it open with a violent jerk, ripping the lock from its roots. He slowly shifted his gaze from the broken door to you, holding the keys in his hands. "Honey, no one's ever waited for me to come home like this before."

You threw yourself into his arms, and Gojo was instantly wrapped around you, lifting you up. The playful mood on his face darkened as he furrowed his brows, sensing you trembling. "Ya here," you whispered frantically, burying your face in his neck. "Ya came to me after all."

"Baby," he said restlessly in a half voice, stepping into the room and not letting you go. He shut the broken door behind you, sat you down on the edge of the bed and sat on the floor in front of you, wrapping his hands around your face to stop you hiding it. "What's going on with you?" the sorcerer asked quietly, seeing your black eyes. You shook your head, holding your palms around his hands and pressing them harder against your cheeks. As long as he was here, you were fine. "Mochi... when was the last time you ate?" he asked cautiously.

"What?..." you're confused, lowering your gaze again as if trying to remember something. "A couple hours ago...

"That's not what I meant," Gojo said sternly, but his touch remained gentle. "When did you feed your... other part?" you furrowed your eyebrows. You didn't like that question, but what was worse, you couldn't remember. "I get it...," he sighed, and without asking you for more permission, he rolled up the sleeve of his uniform - you watched in horror as the sorcerer brought a finger up to his wrist. He didn't even need a knife, just a gentle swipe across his skin - a fresh, red wound opened up, tearing your restraint to shreds with a single drop of blood that ran down his forearm.

You shook your head violently, forgetting human language, and tried to crawl farther back onto the bed, but Gojo gently cradled your head and put his wounded wrist to your parched lips. For a second your eyes grew big with fright, but when you felt the warm blood in your mouth, you didn't go mad - on the contrary, you obediently closed your eyes, and, gently wrapping your hands around his forearm, you pressed his wrist closer and began to drink.

Your sips were not greedy - on the contrary, you did it slowly, albeit mesmerized, unable to pull away. He was gently stroking your head the whole time, but you could not recognize the tender words he whispered to you, soothing you. You didn't know shame at that moment - the sorcerer had to bring you back to your senses right after an exhausting mission, though it was you who should have taken care of him.

Somehow finding the strength to pull away from him, you couldn't resist and gently licked the last drop that flirtatiously drew you in. You were alarmed to see and realize that his wound had quickly healed right before your eyes. "The café is closed for the day," he purred, wrapping his arms around your waist and plopping you on the bed. "Come back tomorrow. Just not before afternoon. Owner needs his sleep," Gojo laughed softly, kissing your face sleepily. Seeing you in that state had made his heart clench with cold dread and worry shroud his thoughts, but seeing you now, relaxed in his arms and care, all was well again.

You burrowed your nose into the top of his mussed head in gratitude. He sighed tiredly but contentedly, snuggling closer to you - he didn't even have the energy to change his clothes. His relaxed body grew heavy, and feeling the soft sheets beneath him and your soft body next to him, he closed his eyes. "Have you picked out a dress yet?" he murmured, stroking the watch on your wrist.

"Mmm... No. Not yet," you mumbled back, stroking the back of his head and smiling stupidly as his body shuddered.

"How would you feel about... having the ceremony private?" he was cautious at first, but sensing your smile, he got dreamy. "Somewhere deep in the woods or on the shore of a wild beach... We'll put up an arch of flowers, set up a table, cover it with a white tablecloth... And you'll be in a white dress and I'll wear a suit, maybe even style my hair... But don't get your hopes up too high," he snorted, pinching your side, making you laugh. "It'll just be you, me, and the priest. And whoever else is up there watching us from above..."

"Sounds like a plan," you whispered, kissing his hot forehead - he was overcome with not painful, but embarrassed fever. "Tired?" you asked gently, massaging his shoulders.

"Yeah...," he exhaled softly, almost moaning at the feel of your hands on his body.

"Always amazed at how powerful cursed sorcerer can be."

"Yeah, yeah, sure," he muttered almost resentfully, pressing his face harder against your chest. "We may be stronger than those hunters of yours, but we're not stronger than the voidrunners."

You chuckled, hearing the childish annoyance in his voice. "I wasn't talking about power in the literal sense. It's just... If hunters have always had and will always have the ability to get rid of demons by finishing off a Diomorphea, then you're fighting creatures that are spawned by humans themselves... It's like fighting the natural element."

You frowned, trying to realize the gravity of your words, for Gojo had gone quiet in your arms. "That thought once drove my best friend mad and then killed him," he admitted indistinctly, remembering Suguru. Gojo remembered vividly and soberly that he had killed Suguru himself - the sorcerer still couldn't find forgiveness for himself, but sanity would occasionally return and broadcast that Geto had been killed by the acts of his own obsession, and it didn't matter who the executioner was. "It almost drove me crazy, too. I've spent my entire conscious life trying to find a humane way to stop that cursed mechanism, but I still haven't found it. I won't say I gave up," he murmured quietly, guiltily into your neck, snuggling against you as if he was afraid you'd run away upon realizing he could be so weak. "I just didn't care at some point."

"Why?" you asked quietly, trying not to scare away his vulnerability by enclosing her in a soft but firm embrace.

Gojo snorted irritably under his breath, feeling shy. He couldn't bear the thought of having to say it out loud, and he was hoping you'd figure it out and save him from the embarrassment. "Once I realized that even in a world like this, I still could be happy," he murmured, and then he stopped talking - he'd had enough revelations for one day. You didn't laugh at his confession, but you couldn't suppress a silly, blissful smile - his words, spoken from the heart, and his loving embrace made you forget for a moment that you had to leave.

The conversation died down by itself - you stopped in mid-sentence without saying good night to each other, as if tomorrow the conversation would resume where it had left off. Gojo's soft words became even quieter, and then became a tired sniffle. His breathing became even and deep, but he didn't let you out of his arms for a moment - you raised yourself on your elbow, stroking his hair and kissing the top of his head, and the deeper he fell asleep, the more feverishly you did it. You couldn't hold back dark tears anymore when he murmured something in his sleep, pulling you closer.

You had to stand next to him like a shadow again - slipping out of his embrace, you went to the closet without turning around and opened it as quietly as possible. You took out a dark bundle and crept into the bathroom, quietly locking yourself in.

The dusty uniform remembered every wound. As you put it on, there was not a single thought in your head. No bitterness, no fear, no excitement. Once again dressed in black, you picked up the heavy mask with the respirators, and, leaning it against your face, you obediently waited for the silent click. There was no one beside you, and you didn't even have anyone to blame for it - you'd done your best for it. Slowly you lifted your heavy gaze and stared at yourself in the small, cloudy, scratched mirror. Trying to convince yourself that you could forget about all the loss and pain now to avoid defeat, you lifted your chin. Clenching your fists, you told yourself of your own strength. If the gods were favorable, you would fulfill your destiny.

With a harsh exhale, you looked away from the mirror and stepped out of the bathroom. You were about to step out and disappear, but your heart protested, thumping painfully against your ribs. You turned around, looking at Gojo with tenderness and guilt smoldering in your eyes. He had already started frowning and groping the sheets next to him, even in his sleep realizing that something was missing. Tiptoeing over to him, you crouched down on your knees and gently brushed his disheveled hair away from his face - he mumbled something sleepily in response. "I'm sorry, boxy," you whispered in a shaky voice - you could barely make out his beautiful face because of the tears frozen in his eyes. "But I gotta go," you tried to justify yourself. You leaned your lips against his warm forehead - the kiss that was meant to be brief and timid, lasted forever.

You left the room with ragged breathing and a trembling soul, but your gait was firm and sure. You passed the rooms where the people you once loved slept, but your heart stopped whimpering. Because you had commanded it, and it dared not disobey. When you left the minka, you quickly ran down the stairs, not looking around.

"I knew it," Ieiri hissed into your back, and you felt cold inside. You turned around slowly - despite the tone she'd thrown at you, she looked ordinarily indifferent. She held a cigarette in her lowered hand, but it seemed to you that she was standing there barely for a smoke break. "Are you at it again? You just got back, and you're running away again?" her voice didn't ooze malice, but there was resentment lurking in it, despite the uncaring expression on Ieiri's face.

You smiled guiltily, shifting from foot to foot, and walked back to the porch. You still had time until the evening of twenty-fifth, so you could afford to linger... For a little while.

You sat down on the stairs and stared dazedly at the grass. Ieiri squinted her eyes and sat down beside you. "Got a cigarette?" you asked, scratching the back of your head awkwardly.

Shoko rolled her eyes and handed you a cigarette from the pack and a lighter. "You can't lie at all, you know that?" she snorted, looking at the light of the flame.

"Ya the first person who's ever figured me out," you shrugged, taking a puff of smoke. The cold twilight whispered something through the lips of the forest nearby.

"It was clear from the look on your face when I asked you about your plans for the future," Shoko gritted through her teeth - your guilty look wasn't enough to make her feel any better. At her words, you chuckled wistfully, flicking the ash off your cigarette, causing Ieiri to look down uncertainly. "Look, can't you... just stay?"

You looked up at her, and the woman's heart, which it thought was frozen and encased in ice, skipped a beat. The desperate look of a human, a guardian, who was ready to protect what was dear to them with all their strength, no matter what it cost them. She realized you couldn't stay. "Y/N," she worried, grabbing your shoulder. "What did he do?"

"Nothing," you laughed, wrapping your head around and squeezing her hand that was on your shoulder. "Ieiri, it's more like I fucked up," you furrowed your eyebrows, still smiling. You really should have never let that boy near you - you were afraid of taking his heart with you. But there was nothing you could do about it now. "Ya just... Don't say anything to him, 'kay?" you asked quietly, embarrassed. Shoko pressed her lips together and didn't say a word to your request - she knew she couldn't promise you that.

You sat silently for another minute, perhaps an hour - time stood still around, and while you stared up at the clear, starry sky, Shoko stared at you. "I have to go," you announced suddenly to Ieiri, rising. The woman was confused - she didn't know how to act. She only watched you walk away.

Her insides went up in flames as you turned around and gave a shy giggle. "Ieiri... can we… uh, hug?"

Dazed, looking at you as if you were a ghost, she nodded uncertainly. Shortening the distance, you put your hands on her shoulders first – it seemed to you they were shaking - and then pulled her against you, resting your chin on her shoulder. Shoko stood, unsure of how she should respond - it would have been better if you just run away like you always did. Feeling a traitorous pinch in her eyes, she first weakly hugged you back, and then squeezed her arms around you in a way that nearly broke your bones. You gave a surprised, hoarse chuckle - you hadn't realized she had so much strength in her before.

You pulled away from her a little, and gave her a warm look to let her know that it was time for you to go. Shoko stood silent, trying to find the last words she could squeeze out of her.

'Get lost?

'Come back soon?

'Take care of yourself?'

"See you," she blurted out on a shaky breath, and you, enveloped in momentary amazement, laughed, backing away slowly.

"See ya," you chirped back at her, winking. Ieiri watched helplessly as you turned and walked on, leaving them all behind - your silhouette growing smaller and lost in the shadows of the large columns, as if you were a shadow yourself. You turned off the main road and into the forest, and after an eternity, somewhere in the distance, the sky flashed with purple flames, making Shoko's eyes blur.

[Void; timeless]

As you stepped into the void, you felt a gaze on you, scrutinizing and threatening. You looked around sharply, and there was no one in sight against the purple horizon - you involuntarily raised your eyes to the deep, dark sky, and you thought you were being looked at in return. You clenched your teeth and took another cautious look at your surroundings, and slowly strode across the vast, empty expanse.

You didn't know which way to go, but it seemed to you that whichever way you went, sooner or later you'd run into Rei. He'd been waiting a long time for this opportunity, too. Black sand crunched beneath your heavy boots, and the cold whipped at your face every time you dared to look around. Apparently, the demon was taunting you, making you freeze and hesitate.

When you remembered the demon's words about the terms of your meeting, your pride resisted. You cringed in disgust when his sweet voice came back to your ears through the memories - you shook your head fervently, trying to shake it off. You could wander like this for days or weeks, if you had the time. Now you were ready to grab your pride by the throat and strangle it - you couldn't let him die.

You stopped and knelt down slowly, never changing your gaze - it was still heavy and determined. The wind that appeared out of nowhere gently mussed your hair, but immediately disappeared, silencing the void before its master once more. "Good girl," Rei murmured, standing a few feet away from you. The demon was clearly pleased with you, with the way you'd accepted your fate when he'd tried to take everything from you that was in one human.

Your head snapped up, and you exhaled raggedly. You could barely control yourself - that bastard was still in your sister's body, as if he'd deliberately mocked your heart. All you could do for her was put her soul to rest by ripping her body out of that rotten creature's hands.

"Relocate."

You thought you were going to end up right behind him because that's where you were aiming, but you were the one who was grabbed by the scruff of the neck and thrown into the cold sand. "Not so fast," he warned softly, smiling.

You raised yourself on trembling arms - you weren't tired, you weren't afraid, but there was a rage inside you that made you unable to hear even the voice of the creature inside. Rising to your feet, you were dumbfounded - a sticky chill enveloped your soul when you saw no one. You turned from side to side, all the while worrying about your back, but no one ever hit it.

You squinted as you heard a quiet, almost imperceptible rustling. The sudden wind that came from nowhere knocked the air out of your lungs, and as you tried to catch your breath, you saw the sand flying upward - sharp as glass dust, it scattered around, digging into your body and eyes, you whimpered quietly, briefly in pain, and covered your face with your palm, defending yourself. One blow to the side and you were no longer able to stand on your feet, falling to the ground again. You tried to look for the demon in the sandstorm, but it was obscured by the fact that in addition to Rei's gaze, you felt another one on you, which confused you, making you doubt which side the blow would come from. Time after time you absorbed the pain from the demon's attacks that came all over your body, but each time you rose to your feet, hoping to get a glimpse of him. "Why don't you just give up?" you stiffened when you heard a familiar voice - it wasn't Rei at all. It was your brother approaching you through the sharp sand. You recoiled in horror; your mind abruptly pierced by another sarcastic word.

"You were always so much weaker than my kids," you tearfully turned around and exhaled quietly when you saw Frank. You shook your head, looking at one and then the other.

"Don't ya dare," you muttered, staring through the pain at the center of the storm, but all you got in response was laughter. The faces of your loved ones faded into a haze, vanishing, but you didn't feel any better - he played you any way he wanted, and you could not do nothing with it.

Your whole body whimpered from the blows - each heartbeat painfully thumping against what were most likely broken ribs. It wasn't even a battle of tactics or strategy, but of endurance. Rei wore you down, breaking limbs time after time, forcing you to devote all your energy to healing them, cutting off your ability to strike back.

You didn't expect anything, fighting in the open in a place where there was nothing but sand. You'd always killed quietly and from behind - that was your main advantage, but now you were exposed and without an ace up your sleeve. Instead of running away, you went into the open field for one reason only.

Looking at you through the storm, Rei couldn't suppress a smile. He liked to see you lost and helpless, and he stalled as long as he could, enjoying the view instead of finishing you off quickly and putting you out of your misery. The demon even laughed at the thought - put you out of your misery? Never. As he approached you like a shadow, he was pleasantly surprised that you turned in his direction, staring, even though you couldn't see him.

"Shading."

The demon hummed thoughtfully, the sand stopped its swirl and hung in the air for a moment, falling to the ground in a heavy waterfall. He turned around slowly, trying to sense you - you were standing right in front of him, and for a moment you thought he saw you, for he was looking at you, but his gaze was unfocused as if he were looking at the horizon.

When he turned his back on you, you breathed out a silent sigh of relief as you summoned your dagger - Rei turned around abruptly, and you couldn't breathe. His face contorted into a fanatical grin, and he grabbed you by the throat, pulling you out of the shadows as you struggled weakly - your hand with a dagger remained motionless above his head. Your eyes began to blur, and the only thought in your mind was that he had known where you were all along. "Footprints, sweetheart," he barked in your face - you slowly lowered your dimming gaze to the ground. Indeed, there were your footprints. "How many times have I taught you to rely on your surroundings?" he muttered, squeezing his hand harder on your throat. Your limbs weakened - you, no longer resisting, went limp. Your hand dropped, and your only defense fell out of your slumped palm - the dagger fell into the sand with a thud of steel.

Watching it with eyes wide with delight, Rei chuckled. It still wasn't enough - to kill you, it wasn't enough to lure you into the void, it was necessary to force you to give up your human form so that you couldn't hide your alien heart. You were impossible to kill as a human, but the dioreact inside you was quite mortal. It didn't seem fair to the demon - he was standing in front of you, exposing his true nature, albeit against his will, and his heart was vulnerable. He wrinkled his nose in disgust - you couldn't even take advantage of that. He hissed angrily and threw you to the ground, and stepped on your spine, making you whimper in pain before you could get up again.

Since the morning of December twenty-fourth, Gojo's heart had been whimpering. He tried to put that uneasy feeling down to the anniversary of his best friend's death, but the anxiety would not leave him. By evening, when his palms began to sweat just because he was breathing, he had to call off the mission to find the curse and return home. As soon as he saw you, a feverish shiver immediately left his body.

But even as he fell asleep with you in his arms, the sorcerer felt his heart ache through the sweet slumber. The dreams flashed before his eyes, and he couldn't get a clear picture - all he could make out was your face. His hand unconsciously tried to fumble for you beside him, and when he failed to do so, he jumped up, waking as if from a nightmare - he gasped, putting his hand to his frantically pounding heart. His hands became numb when he didn't see you around - you could have gone to the bathroom or you could have gotten a cup of water, but he wasn't thinking straight. After checking the room and bathroom, he ran out into the hallway, swinging all the doors open and calling your name desperately.

When he ran into the kitchen in utter doom, he ran into Ieiri, who was sitting at the table - surprisingly, there wasn't even any alcohol in front of her. She was blankly drilling the tabletop with tired eyes, lost in her thoughts - she hadn't noticed him or his anxiety. "Shoko...," he called out uncertainly, stepping closer to her.

She stirred tiredly and stared at Gojo - something bitter flashed in her eyes, and she wiped her face with her hand wearily. "Worked up a sweat...," she exhaled, rising from her chair. "I'm going to bed."

"Have you seen Y/N?" he asked in a broken voice, staring at her back.

Ieiri stiffened, ratted herself out completely. "How am I supposed to know where she's been hanging around...," she muttered through gritted teeth. "Maybe she ran away again. Rachel said she does that a lot."

"No!" the sorcerer pleaded, running up to her and blocking her escape routes with his body. "I don't believe it," he stated firmly, watching angrily as his friend couldn't raise her eyes to him. "Not now, not with me. She couldn't do that."

"Are you even sure you know her?" laughed Shoko bitterly, shaking her head in disbelief. She couldn't see him - she didn't know the whole truth, but he was the reason you had to leave. And in order to save his already cracked heart, she should have kept quiet.

Gojo froze in grief-stricken amazement, biting his lip. He still wasn't sure he knew you well, and he was ready to curse himself for it, though it wasn't his fault. "You know where she is," he stated in a quiet, cold tone. "Just tell me."

Looking at him blankly, she jerked her shoulder, throwing his arms off of her. "In the void," with her words, Gojo struggled to stay on his feet. He tried to pick out a hundred reasons why you went there in the middle of the night without saying goodbye, but none were enough. He laughed maniacally, quietly, thinking you'd just resumed raiding alone, just because you could. Hiding his face in his hands, he continued laughing, and Ieiri didn't even dare touch him lest she awaken the madness.

The sorcerer went silent abruptly, and Shoko felt cold inside. He slowly pulled his hands away from her face, and she cringed when she saw his blank, lifeless, cruel face. He sharply started from where he stood - Shoko rushed after him. The hallway resounded with attempts to summon sanity with Ieiri's voice, but the sorcerer, once inside Megumi's bedroom, literally dragged him sleeping out of bed, tearing him away from his pregnant wife.

"Are you completely nuts...?" sleepily muttered Megumi, pulling his arm out irritably.

"Take me there!" Gojo ordered with a sharp shout.

Megumi frowned, examining his teacher for craziness. "Where should I take you?" he asked, not understanding.

"In the void!"

Fushiguro's sleepy eyes suddenly became clear and surprised. He opened his mouth, but after thinking about something, he closed it back up. "I can't," he managed to say, and his anxiety settled into the souls of everyone in the room.

Danielle, holding her stomach, leaned her back against the wall and watched them with tear-filled eyes, frowning her eyebrows - without even knowing what was happening, she could feel the growing pain. Megumi watched intently as Gojo went insane, unable to do anything about it. Ieiri fought the urge to touch the sorcerer and the urge to leave him alone - she didn't know which evil would be worse. "You know you didn't go through isolation. You can't go in there..."

"I know!" he shouted in a broken voice that quickly changed to a whisper. "I know it. I know," he cursed you for never believing in him and for not putting him through your ability to let you open the boundaries of a new, alien world to him. He felt useless and helpless, and the thought of you being out there all alone made him feel sick.

Megumi and Ieiri looked at each other hopelessly. "I'll... I'll look for her, okay?" assured Fushiguro inconsolably, and, hesitating, patted his teacher on the shoulder. Gojo couldn't even give a nod in response - he stood like a living statue with numb limbs.

"Let's go. You won't help her like that," Shoko called out to him quietly - Gojo was scaring Danielle with his appearance. He nodded briefly, threw Dany an apologetic look, and left the room. He followed Megumi, that he managed to pull on his voidrunner's uniform along the way - he never thought of the day coming when he would rely on his student rather than himself.

Fushiguro practically ran out of the minka, and as Gojo was about to run after him, Megumi stopped him by pressing his palm into his chest. "You come any closer, you'll go blind," warned Megumi, but the man was already faintly aware. The sorcerer was being devoured by an insatiable disgust - it was sinking its rotten teeth into his skin, reminding him how pathetic he was at this moment. As soon as Megumi was far enough away from them, Gojo closed his eyes - the purple flash leaked even through his closed eyelids, painting imaginary pictures where you both were still happy.

As your body shuddered beneath his foot, Rei picked up your dagger from the ground - it weighed less than a feather, as if he were holding nothing at all. He exhaled irritably, thinking about how much trouble that toothpick had caused him - it was in your imprisonment that you'd learned to materialize dark energy, albeit into something so small and insignificant, but that dagger had freed you from your shackles and helped you escape. But Rei felt jealousy in addition to irritation. None of the demons and dioreacts in general had been able to subdue dark energy the way you had - none of them had ever dreamed of materializing it. He was angry at your superiority over them.

Rei clenched his teeth as he put your dagger away and took a step away from you. You inhaled hoarsely as you felt relief around your back and lungs, gasping for air greedily. The lowest emotions of anger, rage, and jealousy made his presence even darker, and he stepped around you and squatted down in front of you, grabbing your hair, forcing you to look into his eyes. There was no fear on your face, and what pushed him over the edge of insanity - it lacked the desire to escape. "Why are you always so naughty?" he whispered with bitterness in his voice, leaning his forehead against yours. "We could have been happy," while he was pouring out his black soul to you, you desperately tried to fumble for the dagger in the sand - when he saw this, he grinned frantically and clenched his fingers tighter on your hair, almost tearing it out. "Did you lose something, sweetheart?"

Your gaze went from doomed to determined. "Nothing I can't steal on a later date, lieber," you spat out, and the realization nearly suffocated him, making him stiffen - he jerked to the side and felt a sharp pain an inch from his heart. If it hadn't been for his reaction and your emotions surrendering your intentions, he'd be dead by now.

Taking advantage of his stupor, you jumped to your feet and stepped back, never turning your back on him and keeping your dagger raised at chest level. The demon grasped at the bleeding spot and was curbed by a storm of different, incompatible feelings - he admired you and was ready to kill you. He wanted to subdue you and give you freedom. Rei rose slowly to his feet, realizing that the cards had been laying face down all this time - you looked brave and... peaceful.

You were completely alone. With a steady exhale, you slowly closed your eyes. One by one, the thoughts faded away like echoes. There was no excitement inside you, only a boundless emptiness in which you were alone with your goal.

"Sunshine.'

'Adoptee.'

'Young lady.'

'Voidrunner, killer from the north, demon, alien, or ordinary human - none of that matters at all. I'll be by your side, whatever you choose.'

A life devoid of choice is what it seemed to you. You drowned yourself in pity and injustice, refusing love. You never let your essence overpower you of your own free will. You constantly denied and rejected it, despite its attempts to get closer. You were both victims of circumstance, trapped in the same cage. You always thought that once you gave it control, it'd be like a mad dog off the chain, but now it stood behind you, hugging your body as your struggled to rise from your knees.

And all of them, in one way or another, in different ways and words, were trying to get through to you, to tell you that you weren't a monster. The irony brought tears to your eyes - how was it that they had loved that creature inside before you?

You deftly but gently twisted the dagger in your hand, cupped the hilt in your palm, and slowly opened your eyes. You were completely alone.

But there were several similar ones standing next to your shadow.

"You don't think this is going to work, do you?" asked Rei with a sneer, pulling his hand away from his wound - it was already healed.

"Shading."

It lifted you up and put you on your feet. It stood beside you and devoured your common tormentor with its whole being. You could hear its slurred, inarticulate whispers - it rumbled in your head, but you felt no more pain. Dark lines crawled up your fingers, arms, shoulders, and down to the ground - you almost wanted to laugh when you saw the bewilderment on the demon's face.

He looked around in confusion as the darkness devoured the ground beneath your feet, as it ate your surroundings - it swallowed tons of sand and air with ease, climbing to the heavens and obscuring the horizon. You lifted your chin - your pride was coming back to you, albeit shattered. You found yourself alone in the pitch blackness, impenetrable and endless.

You had one advantage over Rei. He had lived so long in human lands that he had come to identify with and live as a human - of course, he thought of himself as the perfect version without flaws that ordinary people should worship, but the fact remained that he had lived in a human body and walked this earth for many thousands of years, forgetting the place that used to be his home. On the other hand, there was you, who still hadn't experienced life and had yet to forget about the homelands you had never been to. It was time to remind him.

"Shading."

Your image vanished into the shadows, leaving Rei all alone in the middle of a vast black field without earth or sky. The demon couldn't feel whether he was falling or floating, but he couldn't feel any support at all, your darkness had eaten everything. He was surprised at his own shriek of pain when from below came a blow to his back with such force that it broke his spine. "More!" he exclaimed, and spread his arms as if he were giving himself up to be eaten by God's punishment. You couldn't hear his cries, couldn't see his body - you blended into the void, but somehow you still knew where to hit.

You and your entity struck blow after blow, clutching the dagger in the same hand, putting everything you'd ever had into them - revenge, longing, sadness, happiness, love. Rei's body was tossing from side to side, and even as he involuntarily sobbed painfully, he never stopped laughing. His body was covered with deep wounds that dipping out all his hidden sins - at some point they stopped healing.

You didn't feel the need to breathe, you weren't tired, you couldn't feel your hands, only your dagger and your creature guided you to your main goal. Swinging the dagger as hard as you could, you plunged the point into whatever was before your nonexistent eyes - the darkness dissipated and you sighed hoarsely, holding the hilt tighter in your hands and thrusting it deeper into flesh. You sat before Rei, who was sprawled on the sand, your lips quivering with fury and disbelief. You stared at his peaceful face, and somehow you couldn't let him go so easily, even though the hilt of your dagger was already sticking out of his rotten heart, and there was nothing more you could do about it.

The demon turned his head slowly and gave you a blank stare, untainted by the desire for another's torment. You were incredibly beautiful - you'd given up your human form and most of you had been consumed by darkness, but he wrinkled his nose in disappointment, unable to feel your bare alien heart. But that's what this was all about.

You shook your head faintly in bewilderment, waiting for him to say something. You could still feel the gaze of the heavens on your back, and a small, momentary shiver ran through your body, but you shook it off. "You know, sweetheart," you couldn't recognize his voice - calm and soft, not a shred of arrogance in it. He spent the rest of his strength in gently leaning his hand against your cheek. "Your human didn't make a promise to me at all," he saw the horror envelope you - you could no longer contain your trembling, the fires of sanity and panic struggling in your eyes. "I wasn't even there," you frantically shook your head in denial as the eyes of the heavens literally dug into your back - you thought your wounds were about to open.

Rei slowly lowered his gaze once more. He smiled faintly, sensing your beautiful heart, which opened to the world because of emotions you couldn't control - primal fear and the desire to protect while remaining helpless. You thought he nodded weakly, and then looked into your eyes again. "Liebe," he whispered on his last exhale, pressing his palm harder against your cheek. "No matter what happens, you are my best artwork," the last words were whispered for him by the ashes that scattered across the infinite void. You buried your hands into the ground, still in disbelief - so broken those eyes saw you. Fear oozed out of you like sand from between your fingers. You couldn't stop the scream from coming out of your throat, and with tears in your eyes, you jumped up and ran to the first rift.

The purple light was blinding. You couldn't feel your feet and the way they sank into the sand, and you were breathing raggedly, sobbing aloud - you looked as if you'd never make it. As the glow from the rift scorched everything in your eyes, you reached your hand out, trying to get there as fast as you could - as the light engulfed you, you felt a faint jolt. You felt no pain - not dull, not sharp. When you found yourself in the middle of the night of the human world, among the trees that grew around Kyoto College, you slowly lowered your head. Seeing the thin point of the silver blade that protruded between your heaved collarbones, you smiled weakly. You closed your eyes, letting go of your strength, and fell face first into the wet snow, your body hidden from the distant stars by the whispering branches.

The bones of silence broke under the crunch of snow. The eyes of heaven stood just a few steps away, watching you die. "I'm sorry, Y/N," came a familiar voice with genuine longing and sympathy. "You could make no mistakes and still lose."

next ⊳

#gojo satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen #gojo x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojou #gojo jujutsu kaisen #gojo angst #gojo x y/n #gojo satoru #gojo x you #gojou satoru x y/n #gojou satoru x you #gojou x reader #gojou x y/n #gojou x you #jjk gojou #jujutsu gojo #jjk gojo

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chaptersleftunwritten · 9 months ago

Text

Silver & blood taste the same…

Blurb: FBI special agent Amaranthine Delaware has a nose like a blood hound. She can sniff out crime wherever it may lurk, not even the shadows are safe. But what happens when a crazed killer is tearing through towns rampantly and she has no idea who they are and where they're going next?

Pairing: Bill Skarsgård x OC

Part 1 of ?

Warnings: Gore, blood, violent depictions, homicide, dub-con, somnophilia, sexual themes, sexual acts, swearing, mentions of torture, kidnapping, mentions of weaponry, mental health struggles, addiction (alcohol dependency and cocaine) and possibly more throughout. 18+. Read at your own discretion and risk. You have been warned.

October 17th, 2013

The killings started in the early fall here in Indigo Grove. It must have been around September time because all the kids were back in school and that's how our first Jane Doe was discovered. She had been left- no, she had been discarded, in an overgrown area of greenery near a family home. It was the youngest of the children who found her... now two lives are ruined.

I say 'it must have been around September time...' but I know that it was. I remember everything from that first day. Every smell, every sob, every single one of my hairs standing on end as I try not to dry heave onto the ground next to the poor girl laying there on the frozen earth. Her red eyes staring up at me forever piercing and tainting my soul.

I try not to panic at the coffee counter as the barista with smudged eyeliner blinks at me, evidently annoyed at my prolonged silence and stilled movement, "Sorry," I breathe, finally, "How much did you say that was?" she rolls her eyes as she glances back at the till.

"You owe 5.75 today, ma'am."

Ma'am? The word makes my head spin. Her and I are clearly close to being the same age and she is referring to me like I am some 30 year old woman. I would laugh if I weren't so tired.

I stuff my hand into my damp coat pocket and pull out my purse. Loose strands of my rain soaked hair stick to the side of my face. The purse is a faded shade of purple and the faux leather is of a smooth grain. It's about the only thing that has been with me through thick and thin.

I rummage through the compartments of the purse, my cold shaking fingers scraping together the last of the coins that I have. I count them out in my palm before quickly handing them to the cashier.

She looks down at the metal like it is a foreign form of currency before she as well briefly counts them, obviously not trusting my judgement. After slotting them into her till she rewards me with my morning beverage and sweet treat. Nothing better than sugar at 8 in the morning.

The lights in the café are dim as I enter further into the sea of tables, every person appears like a blurred silhouette- or maybe it is just the three glasses of wine from last night catching up to me. My patrol partner, Johnny Franklin, is sitting in a dark far away corner of the café at a small table for two. He is tucked against the wall, his coffee mug in one hand and his toasted sandwich in the other. He orders the same thing every day; Regular coffee with three spoonfuls of sugar and whole fat milk alongside a toasted cheese and tuna melt sandwich and a chocolate chip muffin for dessert.

Johnny is around the same age as my older sister Jocelyn, which I find great comfort in… maybe that’s why I enjoy having him around. He is also a creature of habit, making his days predictable. I always know where he is going to be and when he is going to be there. It’s why I stay so fond of him, he doesn’t surprise me.

“Mornin’ sunshine,” He grumbles lazily, bringing his coffee mug up to his thin pale lips to take a leisurely slurp as I take a seat across from him. A small stubbly beard has grown in on and around his mouth, I notice this as he says, “You seem as chirpy as ever today.” His hoarse voice is dripping with sarcasm and I pray that this won’t be the running theme of the day. Johnny talking nonsense and me with a pounding headache.

“Yeah, yeah, get it out of your system.” I wave my hand, almost dismissing him- or maybe I’m trying to swat him away like he is a fly. He is always getting all twisted up in other peoples shit.

“You look like shit, kid.” The now empty coffee mug comes down onto the cheap wooden table, a light clatter of the porcelain following close after, “I’m in two minds of even telling you what I got paged this mornin’…”

And there it is. That horrid feeling of dread, doubt, despair, anger, hurt, anxiety- my body knows what he is going to say before he has to say it. The way my stomach twists into painful tight knots and how my breath is now lodged, undoubtably stuck in my throat. The world around me pivots on a sideways axel and I’m struggling to make it stop.

“Tell me.” I am strangled as the words come out, almost too quiet for myself to hear. Do I want to know? Can I handle what Johnny is going to tell me? The answer is no, probably not. But this is the work, and I owe it to those girls to catch this sick fuck-

Johnny’s beady brown eyes examine my features. It takes him a moment but he sucks in a deep breath and I see his bushy eyebrows knit together, his mouth also downturning distastefully, “Another body was found early hours this mornin’, around 3am. She has thought to have been out there for at least two weeks they said.”

The sourness in my mouth intensifies. Two weeks… two whole weeks. Evidence could be lost, the crime scene tampered with, decomposition.. animals. The thought alone sickens me to my stomach. How could she have been missed for that long?

“Who found her?” I ask after a long pause, my mind is buzzing with fear. That’s the thing about this line of work, people expect you to have no feeling- but I feel everything.

Johnny takes a bite of his sandwich and grease pools at the corners of his mouth making me cringe. I want to scream at him for even being able to stomach anything after telling me that information. He chews for an agonisingly long time before he finally grumbles, “A trucker on the highway nearly swerved off the road- agents at the scene think she must have still been alive after the attack and tried to crawl to the nearest road to wave down some help but her wounds were fatal. She died as she reached the highway.” Another bite. Another bite of that disgusting fucking sandwich.

My nostrils flare as I suck in a deep aggravated breath, standing up from the table the chair legs scrape along the floor, the screech punctuates my exit and I am gone before Johnny even has the time to comprehend what’s happening.

Dark clouds swell the sky and the chilly air nips and whips at my cheeks. The rain conjures a hellish dance upon my head as it pelts from the heavens above, drenching my hair further. My chest rises and falls with every breath I struggle to pull into my lungs and I find myself thinking about him.

He keeps me awake every night. I dream about him, I write about him- I wonder, what does he eat? What does his morning routine look like? What does he hate? What does he look like? His eyes, his lips, his smile… is it nice? Is it a nice smile, a warm smile, a welcoming smile? What does he smell like?

He consumes my life, he controls my every thought.

I hate it. I hate him.

It feels personal. Every murder… every life that he takes. And I know that it shouldn’t, but it does.

It fucking does.

Blue lights flood my vision, captivating the world around me in an inescapable light. The light in which we should all feel safe in, but I don’t. I never have.

The yellow and black police tape is lifted for me as I enter through to the official crime scene. The highway has been closed off and traffic is being redirected elsewhere, creating this ungodly eerie silence. I want noise, I need the noise… it’s too quiet.

“Special agent Delaware, this is Milo Reed, our truck driver.” My supervisor, Harold Hawkins, approaches me from a nearby vehicle. The man stood to his left is as pale as chalk, his eyes wide and dark with purple circles cladding the skin beneath his sockets.

My steps are steady and slow as I inch closer to the pair, deciding it may not be best to go in for a handshake in this moment, “Milo, my name is Amaranthine and I’m the lead detective on this case. My partner will soon be here to take care of you.” My own voice echoes inside of my mind. I can’t imagine how this man may be feeling. All he manages to muster in response is a nod and then he is shuffling off in another direction, his actions meek and stilted.

My next walk feels like one to the gallows, but I find comfort in one thing. I know what his mark is, I know what he has left behind that’ll tie this girl to the last and to the one before her. The butterfly. He irons it into their skin. Always in a different area, but always just as deep and just as brutal. Taking something so beautiful and blackening it with evil…

That’s how he got his name from the media.

The butterfly killer.

It headlined in every newspaper a month back, and it still continues to steal the spotlight today. Front page, big and bold for all to see. I bet he is basking in the glory of all of this…

It makes my stomach churn.

As I advance further into the scene I spot an unmissable tanglement of red hair on the ground. The colour is admirable.. it is absolutely gorgeous. Or so I thought, that is until I realise that it’s not at all the colour of the victims hair- it is her blood.

I fight the urge to vomit, swallowing down whatever salvia I have in a desperate attempt to maintain my composure- especially in front of my male colleagues.

“Have you been briefed?” One of them ask and I nod my head, remaining silent, “It was him, she has been branded on her right shoulder. Her wounds, however, are of different technique. He was angrier this time and he used some sort of screwdriver.” His words are so cool it leaves my skin feeling icy cold, like the decaying corpse in front of us, “She has been photographed but with the recent weather conditions, evidence might be tricky to recover. We will be lucky if we identify any from her, never mind any from him.”

I can feel a slow build in my chest, a rising fire of complete rage. When will this end? Will he ever be satisfied? And will I ever catch him?

“Try your best.” I plea and my eyes flicker from the ground to the flashing lights that are now intensifying my headache and then back to the body. The attending agent has left my side and I struggle to grasp the reality of anything around me.

I crouch down to further investigate our victim. She tried to fight. She tried to flee- she wanted to live so desperately that she crawled 10 metres from her drop off point before her lungs finally filled with blood.

She died alone.

I watch as they carefully remove her body from the scene and into the back of an ambulance, taking her back to the lab where hopefully we will be able to identify her.

She will have a family somewhere, and they are waiting on her coming home.

“You can’t smoke in here!” I am four vodka cokes deep in the ‘Hell Gate’ bar just off of the highway and maybe I’m feeling brave and maybe the buzzing red lamp above my head has officially drove me insane but I have had my eyes on this delicious stranger since I arrived and I’ll be damned if I leave here without him. I know that he has noticed me and I know smoking indoors is illegal, and it has been for over 10 years, but there’s just something about watching him do it that makes my insides flutter.

The music in the bar is deafening but it’s pretty vacant of people, even the bartender keeps disappearing elsewhere. The man spares me a quick look, taking one long last drag of his cigarette before he is stumping it out into a nearby ashtray. His face slowly turns towards mine and just like that, he exhales the large cloud of cancerous smoke right into my face.

“What you gonna do about it?” His gravelly deep voice challenges me and my thighs clench together at the mere sight of him. Plump pink lips, stunning round eyes, a strong nose and not to mention the gorgeous brown hair. His tall frame slouched leisurely over the bar has my mind reeling with sin.

I just want to forget. Just for one night.

My front teeth toy with my bottom lip, nibbling on the cushiony skin as I try my hardest to force my drunken brain to think of a quip and sultry response but all I seem to muster is a pathetic, “Steal your lighter.”

He hadn’t noticed but around three seconds ago I had pinched his lighter from on top of the bar and secured in my pocket.

A smugness braces his face, pulling his lips up just ever so slightly at the corners, “What’s your name, angel?” I can tell that I’ve caught his attention by the way his body leans into mine and the total thirst that has consumed his eyes. He wants me.

“You first.” I counter, proud of my own confidence. It’s not every day I manage to pluck up the balls to talk to guys and I would like to thank my liquid courage for tonight. Wherever it may lead.

“Bill, but you can call me whatever you want.” I expect to see a hand stuck out in front of me, but I don’t. He keeps himself to himself, and I quietly admire that. It’s sort of gentlemanly…

I take a short but sweet sip of my drink, letting the alcohol sere my throat on the way down before I chirp, “Amaranthine, but my friends call me Amara.”

His eyebrows perk up momentarily on his forehead before they proceed to faintly knit together in what I assume is confusion, “Are we friends, Amaranthine?”

I bite rabidly at the inside of my cheek, pinching the flesh to stop a shit eating grin from taking over my entire face. There is a short pause as I pretend to think of an ‘honest’ answer, “We can be. If you wanna?” My blood feels hot as scolding iron as it flows through my body, flushing my face for a brief moment.

“Hmm,” Bill’s pink tongue darts from his mouth to swipe over his bottom lip, his teeth gentle nipping the skin, “I don’t know… what do your friends usually say about you?” He is closer to me now and I can feel my breathing start to become a bit ragged. It takes every ounce of restraint I have to not press my lips to his. They are all I can focus on. I wonder what he tastes like.

“My friends would tell you to run for the hills…” In order to regain composure I play with the metal lighter that belongs to him, flicking the cap and watching as the flame would erupt from within. On the side there is a word that is engraved… Love.

It takes mere seconds before Bill is pulling my wrist toward him with force, but not enough to hurt me, only enough to frighten me. And it does, and the gasp that leaves my mouth is borderline erotic and makes my cheeks fervent. He is gentle to take the lighter from my loose grip, placing it into his dark jean pocket and then returning his attention back to my face.

“I think this could work… this ‘friend’ thing.” His grip remains tight around my wrist, “Only thing is.. I don’t think friends fuck their friends, do they, Amara?” Somewhere along the way Bill has stood up from his barstool and he is now towering over me. He must be at least 6ft 2 and looking up at him from my seated position is making my mind spin uncontrollably. I thought I was attracted to him before but now… I want him to take me right here, right now in the middle of this dive bar.

“Friends sometimes do that.” I say meekly as I swallow thickly, all the saliva in my mouth has mysteriously disappeared and maybe it was the alcohol or maybe this is just what he does to me. The greed grows between my thighs and as I'm staring into his eyes I can see the hunger growing within him too- infatuation blowing his pupils to the size of bullet holes.

He yanks me to my feet, his face is uncompromising and I am on fire with anticipation, "Your place or mine?" His lips brush the shell of my ear and I feel electricity race down every vertebrae in my spine, making my legs unsteady. His voice is almost a moan and his tone is low and yet I am willing to totally submit to his every beckon and command.

"Mine..." I feel like I can't breathe, "I.. I don't have a ride." My quavering voice declares my evident embarrassment and Bill tucks some loose strands of my wind stricken hair behind my ear.

"It really is your lucky day." Bill winks at me, a semblance of a smile gently appearing onto his face and his long arm snakes around my waist, guiding me toward the bar exit.

"Oh- I haven't paid!" I exclaim in a state of panic.

"Shhh-" Fuck. His voice is like a lullaby, "I know the owner, don't stress." It was at that moment that I realised, in my inebriated state, that I would believe every word this man said.

Sober Amara would never have given her home address to a total stranger- but drunk and horny Amara just did. We are always warned as children- don’t speak to that strange looking man, don’t go near that lady, stay away from them and so on.. but if we lived up to those rules- to that fear, we would never live. We would be so alone..

I juggle my keys, struggling to control the adrenaline that is coursing through my veins, causing my hands to tremble. I manage to slot the key into the lock and jimmy it open- I really have to get that looked at.

I shoulder barge my way inside, losing my balance as I do and I expect to see the floor coming up to meet my face- but instead I feel Bill’s colossal hands gripping my waist firmly, holding me restrained in the air. Shock roots us both to the spot and I can feel something brewing rapidly between us.

My apartment is small, but it’s cozy and it’s home. I keep it clean for the most part, overall the only mess visible is the case files I’ve left on my desk and the map that’s strung up on my wall. To the average person, like Bill, I’ll probably look crazy. Luckily for me, that’s not where his attention is.

“I'm waiting for your permission to let me have my way with you.”

The door has been kicked shut and I can hear the rhythm of my own heart pounding in my ears. I’m starting to feel a bit lightheaded, like I am levitating above the ground. He knows just what to say, he knows how to look at me in just the right way to make my mind turn to mush- it’s almost like he knows me. Have we been here before?

“I’m gonna need your help to get my clothes off…” my hands dance up to behind his neck, cradling it gently whilst pulling him closer to me. My fingers card through his luscious dark hair, tugging the roots playfully which causes a groan to erupt from his lips.

Bill's large hands come to fondle with my chest, his fingers struggling with the buttons of my blouse. His breathing hitches and with a leap of faith and a lewd huff he rips the seams apart. My mouth falls agape as I watch the buttons fly across every square inch of the room. Some of them I'll never be able to find again...

His lips are on mine before I have time to form any sort of coherent thought and the warmth of his skin is enough to heat my entire body for days. My lips part, allowing his wet tongue to slip inside of my mouth and I moan out at the contact. He tastes like alcohol and cigarettes with the mildest touch of mint- just what I expected. Abruptly he pulls away and I whine with the need to have him near again, "I'm going to take good care of you, I promise. I just wanna enjoy the view. It's not everyday I get to fuck someone as pretty as you." His voice has dropped an octave or two lower and the simple task of breathing becomes obscenely hard in that moment and I battle the urge to pounce on top of him right there and then. He slides my ripped blouse down my arms, letting it fall to the hardwood floor below my feet. He steps further away, urging me with his eyes to continue undressing.

"You don't have to be gentle with me, I won't break..." I offer him a smirk and my feet move toward him with gentle strides and I notice Bill's eyes fluttering to and from my chest. My bra is boring but it's black- and black always leaves an impression no matter what it is. Plus, he seems to like the colour, considering he is dressed from head to toe in it, "You can do whatever you want with me."

The air vibrates between us, "What do you want to do to me, Bill?" My eyes flutter innocently up at his stocky frame and he pulls a quick breath into his lungs through his teeth.

"You want me to tell you, or do you want me to show you?" He is walking towards me now, an impure domineering twinkle gracing his eyes. He backs my steps up until I feel the wall crash into my spine and his long muscular arms cage me to the spot, "Are you afraid?" His face is craned down into my neck now, I can feel his breath on my skin and it settles just above my main artery that I can feel thumping.

I shake my head.

"You got any neck ties laying around here?" He asks and I nod in response.

"Top drawer, in the bedroom." I nod toward the dark hallway that connects my living room to all the other rooms in the house. He glances at it before allowing me to move from the wall, his hand slapping my ass hard.

"C'mon then, lets go get them." I giggle a bit as I run toward the bedroom, Bill following closely behind me, "And take the rest of those clothes off before I get there- or you'll regret it."

Excitement pricks at my heart and I assume he is talking about my suit pants and my shoes, and so I am happy to oblige as soon as I pass through the doorway into my bedroom. It's dark in there- pitch black, so I scramble around for the lamp on my bedside dresser, stumbling over clothes that have been left on the floor and more case files that really should be getting organised but aren't. My shoes are first to go, kicked beneath the bed and my pants are peeled down my legs. The rain had caught us on the way in so my skin is a bit damp and cold, making the fabric cling to my skin like it has been glued down.

I pull open my drawer, ignoring the vibrator that I usually hide in there I retrieve multiple neck ties- just in case he wants more than one and then I sit on the edge of the bed, watching the open door as Bill’s sturdy frame emerge's from the darkness of the hallway. Like a hunter stalking its prey.

"Are these okay?" I hold out the palms of my hands, the colourful neck ties splayed flat across them as I present them to Bill like a knight receiving his sword.

Bill's hands find his knees as he bends down to my line of vision, his face mere inches from mine, It’s almost mocking and I feel like I am about to get a telling off for bad behaviour, "I'm going to fucking ruin you, sweetie." His lips pinch his cheeks as he smirks devilishly, his hands pushing me harshly down onto the mattress- knocking the air out of my lungs.

“Wrists.” He demands and I clasp my hands together in the air without a second thought, my drunkenness blinding every ounce of my reasoning. Bill climbs on top of me, his knees at either side of my torso and he hovers there as he skilfully knots and binds my wrists tightly together. He has done this before...

“Please take your clothes off,” I beg, my voice coming out as a sweltering breathy pant and after he had finished securing my wrists to the bed frame he stands from the bed, my body moving with the shift in weight.

“You’re so polite, so fucking cute- you know what good girls get?” He perks an eyebrow, his hands gripping the hem of his black t-shirt as he pulls it up and over his head. The sight of his abdominal muscles tensing and contorting to the movement of his body has my mind sobering up slightly. I want that image permanently engraved in my mind, “They get anything that they want, sweet cheeks.”

He moves onto his jeans next and even just watching him unbuckle his leather belt has my pussy aching for more. I can’t stop admiring his body- he is so lean and strong, chiselled by the Greek gods themselves.

“Like what you see?” His voice takes the reins of every one of my thoughts and I nod my head, my thighs impatiently rubbing together desperate to get some sort of release, “Awww, is she pulsing?” Up until this moment I'd never been provided the chance to experiment this much in the bedroom, my one night stands were always so vanilla and borderline unsatisfactory- so to have my hands tied to the bed and someone as hot as Bill mocking my arousal... it's all so new. I love it.

"Touch me." It wasn't supposed to come out as a command, but it does and the dimple that screws itself into Bill's cheek leaves my wrists tensing against their restraints.

Bill's eyes settle between my legs, his tongue swiping out to briefly coat his swollen lips in momentary shine as he prowls up the mattress and only then do I see how stiff he is in his briefs- I just want him inside me.

Despite my state of tenseness Bill separates my legs with ease, a small 'fuck' leaving his throat as he drinks in the sight of my pantie class core, "Wanna make you scream..." Two of his slender fingers tactically stroke over the slick covered fabric that sticks to my puffy slit, teasing me softly as he applies just the right amount of pressure to my stimulated clit, "You're so wet already and I've barely touched you-" An egotistical hum swims through his deep voice, "My fingers are covered in you already."

I can't help the mewl that leaves my mouth as I watch Bill foam at the sight of me. No one's made me feel like this before, this wanted- this desired. Bill gasps as his fingers hook beneath the fabric of my underwear and it is shortly followed by a profane groan as his fingertips tease my needy entrance, "You're killin' me, baby." It makes my head whizz with exhilaration as Bill tears the poor garment of clothing from my body, slightly burning my skin with the friction as he does.

Goosebumps arise on my skin at the expose to such cool air, making me shiver where I lay. Bill's head of messy brown locks dip between my spread thighs, pressing trails of kisses from my kneecaps up to my bare centre where his tongue strokes a long slow strip through my glistening folds. His lips make a 'pop' noise as he sucks my sensitive cluster of nerves roughly , pulling away only to dive right back in again. And again...

"A..ah!" My back curves up from the comfortable springs beneath me but Bill continues to secure my hips in place, the grip his fingertips have on me is bruising as the room is filled with nothing but the lewd noise of wet sloppy slurping and pleasure pained moans.

"She's dripping," He coo's cutely, his voice is a muffled hum against my pussy and the vibrations cause my legs to quiver as they cage Bill's face between them. After one final stroke of his muscular tongue Bill spits on my folds before rising to steady himself on his knees, "Think you're ready for my cock now, babe?" His huge hand lads a sore slap against my heat and I cry out at the sting, tugging harshly on my bounds. It hurts but it also feels so fucking good...

"Yes! Yes, please. I'm ready... just want you to fuck me, Bill, please." I say with so much agony that it is comedic.

Two of his slim fingers push inside of me, filling and spreading me out as Bill finally free's his shaft from his underwear. His hand pumps at his length a few times, his thumb gently spreading the pre-cum from his tip to the rest of his thick rod, "Say, 'pretty please' and I'll think about it." His smile is more intoxicating than any of the alcohol that I've consumed and I'm growing to detest the affect he has on my body.

He carries on touching himself, his eyes hooding as he throws his head back in total bliss, "Pretty please." The words are almost a sob as I wiggle my hips, trying to meet him halfway. He bites his bottom lip, clearly satisfied with my pleading he taps his dick a few times against my slit only to shock me at the very last second as he pushes himself all the way inside. The stretch is glorious and my eyes are rolling to the back of my head at the sensation of him filling every inch of me.

"So warm- you're squeezing me so tight." It's now Bill's turn to moan as he bottoms out of my pulsating cunt and plunges himself back in again, "Keep this act up and I'll end up cumming before you do, sweetheart." The image of him coating my walls with his hot spunk makes me want to scream.

His thrusts quicken and with more ferocity, the room is captivated by the loud sounds of wet skin slapping skin and the perverted moans from both Bill and I.

"Don't stop! Ah.. fuck! Please don't stop!" My screams reverberate in my chest, bouncing off of every wall and playing back at us. It's evident that Bill has no intentions of slowing down and I struggle to keep my eyes open long enough to watch the perfect contour of his parted lips widen and how his dark eyebrows pinch together in pure delight.

He pulls out of me and grabs my hips. He flips me around to my stomach before pulling my ass up into the air where he spanks the skin brutishly and I endure the red marks that tingle their way up to the surface. Forcing my face down into the pillows he holds my head there as he propels himself back inside of me and the scream that leaves my mouth leaves me drooling all over my pillowcases. My mouth is unable to close from the constant moans exiting past my lips.

"I knew you were a slut, look at you-" He slaps my ass cheek again, punctuating his words, "Taking my cock so well. Am I hitting that sweet spot, baby?" I try to speak, I try to communicate with him but I can't. It's all too intense, "Right there? Yeah, Ugh, fuck yeah!" Bill's moans bless my ears and I feel a knot forming in the pit of my stomach, my high is hurdling toward me with every thrust his thick cock gives.

"Want you to cream all over me, can you do that?" I nod into the pillow, having given up on my words and Bill releases a noise that is somewhere between an hum of approval and a moan, "So good for me, so fucking good.." Maybe I hadn't noticed before now, but the way he praises me only increases the fire consuming my insides and I don't know if it's because of how attracted I am to Bill or just a newly discovered kink of mine but whatever it is it's working.

I struggle to breathe against the fabric of the pillow and my eyes pinch closed alongside every muscle in my body tensing as my howling orgasm washes over me. My legs are a shaking mess and I swear I pass out for a moment or so because Bill is the only thing keeping me kneeling upright as he pounds into me from behind- chasing his own release that soon follows closely after mine...

And we are left both a panting muddle of sweaty flesh in a room stinking of nasty sex.

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