#it's the MY BEAR WILL EAT ME IF I DO NOT RETURN TO HIM chapter

[ja3yun]

The Doll House | Epilogue

doll!sunghoon x doll!jake x fem!reader warnings: smut (mdni), threesome, unprotected sex, cream pie, eiffel tower, oral (m&f.rec), deep throating, doggy, soft dom!hoon/sub!jake, hoon&jae don't get it on but there is one kiss, cum plugging, nipple play, angst, mentions of heaven/hell, not a lot of jongseong (sorry jay lovers!) wc: 22k synopsis: you and jaeyun return to the house that started it all, however you didn't realise the impact that leaving would have on the demon you left behind, leaving you with a choice to make, and both involve visiting heeseung's room just one more time. heeseung | masterlist | a/n: hi! so if you haven't been keeping up with me or my blog then this epilogue will surprise you but with everyone wishing for just one more chapter i thought why not do an epilogue? i tried to give everyone an ending they deserved so i hope you all like it! likes, reblogs, feeback, comments are all appreciated as always! thank you so much for the love on tdh

“Y/N, can you please tell Jaeyun that this is a communal space,” Mia exasperates, pointing over to the doll and the current tornado of clothes lying over the living room floor. 

There are clothes everywhere; tops on the sofa, trousers on the carpet, and his underwear messily splayed over the small dining table situated in the corner of the room, the very location Mia happens to be as she tries to eat her lunch.

Mia and Jaeyun have developed a love-hate relationship over the past three months. To be honest, this wasn’t the problem you thought you would have when you told Mia that you are soulfully attached to a doll that is possessed by your should-have-been guardian angel. That was already a massive hurdle to overcome but you thought that maybe they could become friends once they get to know one another properly.

Unfortunately, Jaeyun holds a grudge, her words from her last visit to the mansion still stinging his heart, and Mia has never been a fan of dolls or supernatural entities living amongst the living. 

“He is WHAT?” Mia exclaims with her jaw slack enough to catch flies.

You look at Jaeyun who is standing one foot behind you, still wary of telling her, “He’s alive. Surprise!” you smile awkwardly, jazz-handing your way out of explaining any further about the situation you have found yourself in.

Mia turns pale, stumbling backwards and collapsing onto the table behind you, her body desperately seeking support. You understand it's overwhelming; after all, you weren’t prepared to handle such news back then either. Granted, a mere 20 minutes later your mouth was being stuffed with his doll cock so there wasn’t that much time to process.

“Y/N, you need to get that freak of nature back to his creepy dollhouse,” she quivers, pointing accusingly at Jaeyun.

“It’s not a dollhouse, it’s a house that dolls live in,” Jaeyun clarifies, rolling his glass eyes in annoyance.

And from there, it has been bicker after bicker between them.

You haven't told Jaeyun about his true background and who he was meant to be, knowing the others withheld this information for a good reason. Staying with him has revealed his true personality to you - a fragile soul not yet ready to face the harsh realities of his tragic death and his actual purpose in life. It might be selfish to keep this from him, but he's happy as he is. Why shatter that peace?

Besides, you would hate for him to see his brothers differently. The love he has for them is so pure that you can't bear to ruin it.

"This is actually mine and Y/N's place. You're just crashing here because your boyfriend dumped you and kicked you out," he retorts, a smug smile playing on his lips.

"It'll be your place once you start paying rent. Ever thought of mannequin work? You'd love it - they stick a metal pole right up your a-"

"Enough, you two," you interject firmly, quelling the rising tension. Memories of the last altercation flood your mind—it was not a pretty sight when Mia attempted to break his arm and toss it out the window. "Baby doll, can you hurry up and pack? We promised Soonyeol we'd be there by 2pm at the latest," you say softly, offering him a small, reassuring smile.

Nodding, Jaeyun bounds over the clothes, finally picking what he wants to wear. The way he was packing, you would think that you were staying at the mansion for a week, not just an overnight trip.

You had planned this trip for Jaeyun because it was so evident how much he was missing them all. He was on the phone to them every night, particularly Sunghoon, and once he hung up the phone he would look dejected and eagerly anticipate the next time it was appropriate to phone. One time, he was on the phone so long that you went to bed when it started and woke up just as it ended.

Of course, it's natural for him to miss them; it's all he's ever known in this existence. Part of you feels a twinge of guilt for taking him away from his home, but you also recognise that it would have hurt you both even more if you were apart, especially considering Jongseong's previous warning about being unlinked to your guardian angel. Moreover, he wanted to come of his own accord, and you've made it abundantly clear that he's free to leave whenever he wishes.

As you watch him pack, a sense of warmth fills your heart. Despite the challenges and uncertainties, you're grateful for every moment you get to spend with him. And as you prepare for this trip, you can't help but feel a flicker of excitement at the thought of seeing him reunited with his loved ones.

You would also be lying if you said you weren't looking forward to seeing them again.

"Are you almost ready, baby doll?" you ask softly, unable to hide the loving smile tugging at your lips.

He scrambles to fit in some final pieces, doing a quick verbal checkover before clicking his fingers in realization. "Two minutes! I forgot my sunscreen," he says before darting up the hall to rummage through the bathroom cabinet.

"You're made of plastic!" Mia yells at him, clearly flabbergasted, then turns to you. "Is he serious?"

"Be kind, you know how he is. Plus, he's made from thermoplastic elastomer, not plastic. You know this," you reply with a gentle chuckle, understanding Jaeyun's quirks all too well.

Ever since you brought him home, Jaeyun has been determined to be as human as possible, eagerly picking up traits and characteristics to blend in seamlessly. You often find him engrossed in binge-watching sitcoms and movies, the TV becoming his best friend as he tries to grasp human behaviour. After all, the only human he had ever come into contact with before you was Soonyeol, and everything he learned about cities and people was through her and some old books.

Exploring outside with you has been an adventure, though he requires glasses and a bit of contour to give his complexion a more lifelike appearance. So far, your cautious outings to the shops or bustling hubs of people have kept you inconspicuous.

You made it clear to Jaeyun that the last thing you wanted was for him to feel trapped in your flat, understanding the toll it took on your mental health all those months ago. Thus, you both make a concerted effort to integrate him into society, ensuring he experiences the world beyond the confines of your home. 

Once he comes back and packs his unnecessary sunscreen and an extra-extra pair of socks, he is ready to go, the excitement on his face evident as you both say goodbye to Mia and head back to the house that started it all.

_____

The crackle of gravel under your tyres fills the air, and suddenly, a wave of nostalgia washes over you. Is it odd to feel nostalgic for a place you were in just three months ago? Shouldn't that sentiment be reserved for moments like childhood memories of playing in a friend's backyard at age six?

Bringing the car to a stop, you gaze ahead and notice that the moss and bushes have been trimmed, giving the exterior a more manicured appearance. The daisy bush is still intact, if not more beautiful than the last time you set eyes on it. It's a subtle change, but it speaks volumes about the passage of time since you visited the place Jaeyun called home. 

You glance at Jaeyun and find the brightest smile lighting up his face, his left leg bouncing in eager anticipation. With a gentle touch, you tuck some of his hair behind his ear, pulling him from his trance of happiness. His leg stills as your touch renders him relaxed. "You ready, baby doll?"

He nods, clasping his large hand over yours, bringing your palm to his plump lips and kissing it gently. "Are you? I think that's the big question here," he replies, sensing your apprehension about returning to the mansion. It’s the downside to having a soulmate that feels your emotions with you, you can’t ever hide when you’re upset or nervous.

It's not that you don't want to see everyone; it's the simple thought of what if Jaeyun wants to stay here again? Being in the city with you could have been a nice holiday for him, but what if he decides he wants to go back to Soonyeol as soon as he sets eyes on her?

He doesn't have friends back in the city; he only has you. Sometimes, you wonder if that's enough for him. Soulmates or not, a person cannot survive solely on the love of one other person. He needs a network, and unfortunately, that network is here in this mansion.

You assure him with a grin and a nod, feeling the warmth of his affection as he presses his knuckles to your lips once again, sealing his love for you inside of it, reassuring you even only slightly. Together, you step out of the car and walk up to the grand front doors, the nervousness in your body different from when you arrived on your first day on shift.

Reaching out, you raise your hand to knock on the door, your heart beating just a little faster with each passing moment. This visit could change everything, and the uncertainty of what lies ahead fills you with a mixture of excitement and trepidation.

A minute of silence passes before the door swings open, revealing Soonyeol with her cheery grin and bright energy. She looks as beautiful as ever, her long hair and pretty sundress almost making you curse at yourself for wearing a pair of shorts and an old band t-shirt that has faded in its whiteness from frequent wear.

Jaeyun lets go of your hand and leaps forward, embracing her tightly. His excitement is palpable, and you can't help but smile at the sight of their reunion, even if a pang of insecurity tugs at your heart. You step back slightly, giving them space, watching the reunion with a mixture of emotions swirling inside you. 

There's happiness for Jaeyun, seeing him reunited with someone who clearly means so much to him. But there's also a twinge of uncertainty, a fear that perhaps this reunion will change things between you two.

You take a deep breath, pushing aside those thoughts for now. This moment isn't about you; it's about Jaeyun seeing his found family and getting the much-needed time with them. His happiness is the upmost importance.

"Soonyeol, it's been too long," Jaeyun says, his voice filled with genuine affection as he pulls back slightly from the embrace, still holding her at arm's length.

"It really has, Jaeyun. I've missed you," Soonyeol replies, her smile softening as she looks at him.

You step forward, offering a tentative smile. "Hi, Soonyeol. It's nice to see you again."

Rolling her eyes playfully, Soonyeol reaches for your arm and pulls you into a warm hug. "Come on, Y/N, we don't need to be awkward here! You're part of the family now," she says happily, her voice filled with genuine warmth as she embraces you like a lifelong friend.

There is no weight of angst towards you in her body. She is so kind and generous that you wonder how on earth she has such a hold on Heeseung, considering someone with a pure heart like her must be the easiest target of all. 

"Thank you, Soonyeol," you say softly, grateful for her kindness.

As you pull back from the hug, she waves off your appreciation and gestures towards the inside of the house. "We're all in the living room," she comments, not offering to show you the way. It's a subtle acknowledgement of your familiarity with the mansion; after all, if anyone knows this house as well as she does, it's you.

With a nod of understanding, you follow her lead and step inside, feeling a sense of comfort wash over you as you reenter the familiar surroundings of the mansion. It’s strange how easy it is to fall back into place as soon as you cross the threshold; you’re almost seconds away from grabbing the green feather duster again.

You roll your case across the mahogany floor as you walk towards the living room, marvelling at the once creepy, dark walls with a sense of fondness. You missed this place more than you will ever admit to anyone, the tranquillity of it all was missed on nights of sirens and drunken shouting just outside your flat.

Jaeyun doesn't seem to mind the hustle and bustle surrounding him. In fact, he's fascinated by it, curious as to why so many people are in such a rush to skip through life when there's so much of the world they're missing. Whether their noses are buried in their phones or they simply don't care to interact with one another, Jaeyun sees the beauty in every moment.

If there were an award for chatterboxes, Jaeyun would undoubtedly win it. From the moment you realised he could converse, you knew he had a lot to say. Every day, he fills the air with his thoughts and musings, and you couldn't love it more. You are aware that his past got swiped from his memory, but it's truly as if he's experiencing his first life.

Yet, you can't help but wish he could speak to more than just you and Mia when he's back home with you. The world is full of people he could connect with, and you want nothing more than for him to experience the joy of making new friends and sharing his boundless enthusiasm with others. A person as pure and joyful as him should be able to enrich people's lives the way he has yours.

Reaching the living room, Jaeyun takes your free hand and squeezes it, prompting you to turn to him.

"Hmm?" you ask, tilting your head as you catch his soft expression.

"I love you, you know that right? You know I'm not going anywhere if it's not with you," he says earnestly, his eyes sparkling with sincerity. His serious tone leaves no room for doubt; he means every word.

Jaeyun may exude the excitement of a puppy who loves being looked after, but he's also incredibly understanding of your own needs. He knows that sometimes you need verbal reassurance, especially now that you’re diving back into the complexities of life at the mansion. While it's easy to pretend to be just another normal couple back in the city, here you're acutely aware of the history that lingers in the halls and the events that transpired.

With a soft smile, you squeeze his hand back, feeling a rush of gratitude for his unwavering love and support. "I know, Jaeyun. And I love you too. More than you'll ever know," you reply, your voice filled with affection. 

Jaeyun leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before releasing your hand. "Let's go join the others, if they’re anything like me then they’re literally dying to see you.”

Walking into the room, you notice Jongseong entering through the back garden almost simultaneously with you and Jaeyun. His presence halts you all to a stop, and a warm smile spreads across your face, reaching your ears.

"Princess," Jongseong greets you, setting down the shears in his hand before striding briskly toward you. His arms open wide as he approaches, and before you know it, he's lifting you up and spinning you around, eliciting a delighted giggle from your lips.

"Hi, Jongseong," you greet him warmly, returning the hug with equal enthusiasm. There's a sense of joy and ease in his presence that never fails to lift your spirits. Throughout your time in the mansion, he was always your backbone to getting through it, living up to his guardian angel ways.

As Jongseong sets you back down, your curious gaze sweeps over his attire. "What's with the new look?" you ask quizzically, noting the departure from his usual casual clothes. He's sporting dark green overalls, stained with mud and grass, paired with a black slouch t-shirt underneath, and gardening gloves.

Jongseong spins around, giving you a full view of the outfit before bursting into laughter. Soonyeol tucks under his arm, hugging him from the side and running her hand over his broad chest.

You can’t help but wonder if Jongseong ever told her about your night on the altar, or the one in the kitchen, or the countless ones on her bed. But by the way she's acting, it seems she remains oblivious to it all. For now, you'll let her live in ignorance, choosing not to disrupt the peace.

“Jjongie suggested it,” Soonyeol explains, looking up at him with an adoring stare.

"Yeah, wouldn't want someone to prick a finger or anything on the thorns now, do we?" Jongseong's voice carries a playful tone as he makes jabs at your past experiences with the garden.

Since your departure, he's come to realise that there's so much more to life that Soonyeol could be enjoying. Heeseung may have provided her with all the material comforts and companions she desires, but Jongseong knows that true fulfilment goes beyond mere possessions and superficial fantasies. He saw it in you - someone with everything the big city life could offer, yet still yearning for more.

So, he's been spending more time with Soonyeol, teaching her to play instruments and nurturing her interest in gardening. And with Jaeyun no longer by her side like a clingy pup, her schedule has opened right up, leaving more time for Jongseong to show her the joys of a fuller, more enriched life.

Jaeyun absentmindedly rubs his thumb over your once-pricked finger, as if Jongseong mentioning it might cause you to feel the pain again. You can't help but smile at his gesture of concern. It's a small yet meaningful reminder of his caring nature, his instinct to comfort you even in the most subtle of ways.

“Jaeyun can help me actually, I have some rubble to take around to the bins if you could help me?” Jongseong suggests.

"Sure thing, Jongseong," Jaeyun replies eagerly, ever willing to lend a hand. "Lead the way."

With a nod from Jongseong, the two of them head off to tackle the task at hand, leaving you momentarily alone in the living room with Soonyeol. It's not that you don't get along with her - she's been more than welcoming to you in her home - but it's still strange to be left alone with her, unsure of what she knows about your relationship with the boys or what transpired while she was gone.

You grab Jaeyun’s suitcase and hold it next to yours, “I’ll go put these away and come through,” you smile politely, trying to avoid being in a one-on-one conversation with Soonyeol just in case you talk about how big Jongseong’s cock is and how you felt it jump when he picked you up.

"I can get one of the other boys to do that," she offers kindly, but you decline, shaking your head. "Well, Jaeyun's room is all set up if you want to set up camp there."

"Thanks, Soonyeol. I appreciate it," you reply, grateful for her understanding. With that, you make a hasty exit, eager to avoid any potentially awkward conversations for now.

_____

On your way to the room, you make a tiny little detour. Should you, considering every time you linger in places you aren’t meant to be, you end up in peculiar situations? No. Did you, because each of those peculiar situations has made you feel alive and there’s no scaring you anymore? Of course.

Standing outside the library, you twist the creaking knob and push the door open slowly. The familiar smell of old books fills your nostrils, and a sense of nostalgia washes over you. It's been a while since you've been in here, and you can't help but feel drawn to the rows of dusty bookshelves, each one holding countless stories and secrets within its pages.

Sighing quietly, you step inside, letting the essence of the library envelop you. Despite the risks, there's something about this place that calls to you, beckoning you to explore its hidden treasures once more.

Perhaps it’s the literal phone to hell that brought you here first of all places in the house.

You glance over at the painting of the sheep, its head firmly back on its human shoulders but despite seeing it countless times and being fucked mercilessly on the other side of the door it shields, you can’t help but still feel some distress. It is so easy to forget about its existence when it isn’t staring back at you. 

You find yourself drawn to it, despite your better judgement. There's something about the way it seems to watch you, its eyes following your every move, that fills you with a sense of unease. You can't quite pinpoint which part of your body is drawn to coming back to it, but you hate it all the same.

“There’s still time to change your mind.”

That siren voice pierces your ears, instantly sending a shiver down your spine. Tension coils in your muscles as you recognise the voice, its allure tinged with an undercurrent of danger.

Turning slowly, you come face to face with the source of the voice, and your breath catches in your throat as you see Heeseung smirking before you. His lips glisten as he licks them, his eyes roaming all over your body with an intensity that makes you feel as though you might as well be naked.

His gaze pierces through you, leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable. There's something about the way he looks at you, a hunger in his eyes that sends a jolt of adrenaline coursing through your veins.

You swallow hard, trying to regain your composure in the face of his intense scrutiny. Despite the unease that grips you, a part of you can't deny the pull of his magnetic presence, drawing you in despite knowing better. He just has something about him that you can’t shake from your soul, like he has some weird grip on you.

With a forced calmness, you meet his gaze head-on, determined not to let him see the fear that churns within you. "Hi, Heeseung," you reply evenly, keeping your tone steady despite the turmoil raging inside you.

"Hi, baby. You miss me?" he asks, his voice low and seductive as he snakes towards you with deliberate steps.

You fight the urge to succumb to his magnetic presence, to fall to your knees and let him use you as he pleases. Instead, you stand your ground, ignoring the way your spine quakes with each of his measured steps.

"You know you're tempting fate by coming back here," Heeseung says, his eyebrow raised knowingly.

His observation cuts through the air like a knife, striking a chord of truth deep within you. There's no denying the danger that lurks within the walls of this mansion, especially when it comes to Heeseung himself. The Prince of Hell was once ready to offer you everything you desired in exchange for Soonyeol's existence, and you were dangerously close to accepting.

That's the trouble with Heeseung—he always seems to know what you want, even when you try to convince yourself otherwise. Deep down, a part of you still yearns for the life he could offer you, the power and influence that come with being by his side. But you have Jaeyun now and you’re happier than ever to come home to someone who loves you more than the trees love to blow in the wind. 

"I came here because Jaeyun wanted to, not for you," you argue back, mustering all the confidence you can fake as you fix your posture.

"My sweet baby," Heeseung tuts, closing the distance between your bodies with a smoothness that makes your heart race. It's as if you're two steps away from embarking on a lovers' tango. He reaches out, holding your chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing you to look him dead in the eyes. "Are you saying you didn't miss us?" he asks, his voice low and seductive, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes.

Of course, you missed them - all of them. But the way you missed Jongseong and Sunghoon is vastly different from the way you missed Heeseung. With Jongseong and Sunghoon, it's a deep, heartfelt longing, born out of adoration and connection. But with Heeseung, it's different - it's a craving, an addiction to the thrill of his touch and the excitement he brings to your life with a mere snap of his fingers.

You can never admit that to him, though. The truth would only complicate things further, and you've worked too hard to suppress the nightly urges to pray to him and have him sweep you away. So you keep your lips sealed and push away any thoughts connecting to the matter.

Your silence only fuels Heeseung more, the once gentle grip he had on your chin now tightening to lock you onto him. “I think about that day you snuck into my room. How you were whimpering like a dog in heat,” he ridicules, leaning dangerously close so his lips are ghosting over yours, “Do you remember? You were grinding yourself on my foot like a pathetic little bitch.”

The humiliation washes over you in waves, threatening to drown you in its wake. You can feel the heat rising to your cheeks, your body betraying you with its response to his words. Why are you getting wet over this? It's humiliating, degrading, and pride-destroying, yet you can't deny the visceral arousal coursing through your veins.

You're on the edge, teetering dangerously close to surrendering to the desire that simmers between you and Heeseung. Part of you wants to mewl out and ask him to do it again, to succumb to the intoxicating pull of his dominance. But another part of you - the part that still clings to the fragile threads of self-respect - fights against it, struggling to maintain some semblance of control in the face of his overwhelming presence.

Before you can say another word or do anything you will live to regret, you feel someone standing at the door.

“Heeseung, Soonyeol is asking for you,” Sunghoon’s deep voice rings out like a bell of relief.

Quickly regaining your composure, you take a step back, putting some distance between yourself and the lingering echoes of your encounter with Heeseung. Sunghoon's accidental interruption may have saved you from making a decision you would regret, and for that, you're grateful.

But while you're relieved, Heeseung is clearly disgruntled. An annoyed groan escapes his lips as he rolls his eyes, his frustration is evident in his demeanour. He knows how close you were to giving in, and if he had just a sliver more time with you, he might have ensnared you like a Venus flytrap.

With a curt nod, Heeseung heads towards the door, his footsteps echoing in the silence of the room. But before he leaves, he turns his head to look back at you, his eyes piercing and intense.

"My offer is still on the table, baby," he murmurs, his voice laced with a mixture of desire and determination. "Come find me."

His words hang in the air like a tantalising invitation, tempting you with the promise of fulfilling your deep-rooted desires.

Sunghoon clears his throat, his gentle smile a reassuring beacon in the midst of Heeseung's lingering presence. "Did you forget where the bedrooms are in your time away?" he quips, his tone light yet mindful of the heavy atmosphere.

You manage a small chuckle, grateful for the diversion. "No, just got a little sidetracked," you reply, appreciating Sunghoon's effort to ease the tension. You won’t go into detail about how you were seeking out the altar on some nostalgia tour.

Just as you're about to speak, Sunghoon smoothly takes hold of the two pieces of luggage and begins to stride towards Jaeyun's room.

"I see that snooping habit of yours is still alive and well," Sunghoon remarks, raising an eyebrow as he looks down at you, his tone playful.

You hum softly in acknowledgement, unable to deny the truth in his jest. Glancing around, you admire the porcelain dolls that line the hallway, their delicate features and intricate dresses catching your eye. They are so beautiful that you wonder how on earth anyone could be scared of them or find them haunting.

Sunghoon follows your gaze, his own eyes softening as he looks at the dolls you're fondly staring at. "They've missed you," he comments, his voice filled with a hint of nostalgia.

"I missed them too," you admit with a wistful smile, your fingers grazing the smooth surface of one of the dolls as you walk.

Sunghoon's playful demeanour turns gentle at your confession, a warmth in his eyes as he looks at you. "I'm sure they're glad to have you back," he replies, his voice carrying a note of sincerity, “I know I am.”

His admission brings your attention back to him, but his stare quickly averts, darting around the corridor as if looking for an escape from your piercing gaze.

Moments like this are subtle with Sunghoon, he isn’t quite ready to be vulnerable but you know under the demonic persona that harbours his entity, there is a kindness to him. In your time here, you didn’t see it often, typically during the post-orgasm bliss or when you needed a bit of reassurance, but in those times his vulnerability lasted just long enough to seep through.

You chuckle softly at Sunghoon's admission, the playful banter lifting the tension that had lingered. Lightly jabbing his shoulder, you tease, "Did you miss me that much?"

Sunghoon's chuckle is warm and genuine, a sound that fills the hallway with a sense of ease. He nods in response, his gaze still fixed ahead, as if he's unwilling to meet your eyes. "A lot, more than I thought I would, baby girl," he confesses, his voice barely above a whisper.

His words hang in the air, heavy with unspoken emotion. Despite his attempts to mask it, you can sense his words hold a strong susceptivity that he's not quite ready to fully embrace.

But you understand. Because you feel the same way.

“I missed you too, Sunghoon,” you murmur, your voice filled with the same quiet genuine feelings. Sometimes there is no need for loud, grand declaring gestures of fondness, sometimes it’s as simple as saying your feelings out loud.

Reaching Jaeyun’s room, Sunghoon halts, setting your suitcases down with care. "Here's where you get off, in every sense of the phrase," he quips with a playful smirk and a hint of mischief dancing in his eyes. 

Your cheeks flare with a crimson hue as embarrassment floods through you, a groan escaping your lips at his suggestive remark. Truth be told, nobody's fooling themselves about you and Jaeyun - your intimate escapades are hardly a secret. Mia's blunt commentary hasn't let you forget it either, threatening noise complaints with each ‘Fuck, Jaeyun, you look so pretty sucked into my pussy like that’.

Sunghoon's hand gently cups your cheek, his lips pressing tenderly against your forehead. His gesture catches you off guard, leaving you momentarily stunned. You're now with Jaeyun, and the sudden affection feels awkward, though undeniably stirring. You feel yourself at melting point as you succumb to his touch so easily.

You hadn’t spoken to Jaeyun about any of this, to be fair, you hadn’t imagined any of the dolls would care about you in this way now that Soonyeol was back, knowing their bond with her was much stronger than the one with you. You’ve silently asked Jaeyun not to go back to Soonyeol and that means in any form, which is probably why you feel so guilty because, in the past 20 minutes, you’ve wanted to jump on two out of three of his brothers’ bones.

Sunghoon's gaze meets yours, and he senses the rapid thumping of your heart, understanding instantly why you're so uneasy. With a gentle clearing of his throat, he withdraws from you.

"Sorry, force of habit," he confesses, his tone filled with remorse. Yet, it's a habit he shouldn't have slipped back into so effortlessly, yet it felt like breathing; as if touching you was his birthright.

You wave off his apology, understanding that his intentions were never malicious. Despite the awkwardness of the situation, you know Sunghoon's actions stemmed from familiarity rather than any ill intent towards you and Jaeyun’s relationship.

He shared you with the other doll for so long that these things can easily skip his mind.

Inhaling sharply, he nods, “Soonyeol wants us all around the table for dinner, something about lasagna she found in the freezer.”

_____

After dinner, you find yourselves nestled comfortably in the living room, enveloped by the warmth of the crackling fire and the gentle hum of conversation. Soft melodies drift through the air, mingling with the laughter and chatter of the group. 

You observe with a sense of contentment as the dolls and Soonyeol engage in lively discussion, their interactions filled with genuine interest and respect. There's a certain harmony to their dynamic, a shared understanding that speaks volumes about their bond.

It occurs to you that this must have been the essence of their existence before you entered the picture - the simple joy of companionship, the comfort of having each other's company. And while your presence may have altered the dynamics in some ways, tonight, surrounded by their collective warmth, you can't help but appreciate the beauty of their unity.

You don’t regret having Jaeyun by your side but his hearty laughter at Jongseong’s terrible jokes or playful pouts towards Sunghoon as he gets teased only make you wonder if you made the right choice.

You can't help but notice the intimate scene unfolding between Soonyeol and Heeseung, their easy familiarity and tender gestures speaking volumes. As Soonyeol recounts her childhood mishap, Heeseung's touch becomes a silent reassurance, his hand tracing soothing patterns along her arm while offering gentle squeezes of support whenever she mentions moments of pain.

Their relationship is a puzzle to you - a blend of affection and care. Soonyeol's adoration for Heeseung is evident in the way her eyes light up when she's near him, reaching for his hand with a longing that mirrors your own gestures of comfort with Jaeyun. And Heeseung, in turn, showers her with gestures of kindness and devotion, his actions speaking volumes about the depth of his feelings.

Yet, he is still posing the offer to get rid of her for you to stay. No person in love would give their partner up so easily.

Jaeyun interrupts your thoughts as he starts up his Switch, the melody drawing your attention away from the complicated couple. He begins to show Jongseong the wonders of technology even though Jongseong has lived long enough to know what a gaming console is and what its purposes are. But as always, he lets Jaeyun yap away and acts clueless.

Glancing at the clock, you realise it's already 10pm, and the exhaustion from the day's long drive begins to weigh on you. Your social battery, already running low, signals that it's time for some much-needed rest.

"I'm going to head to bed," you announce softly, taking advantage of the momentary lull in the conversation.

Jaeyun's gaze shifts to you, his expression momentarily puzzled before softening with understanding as he notices your fatigue. It’s so refreshing to have a man care about you the way Jaeyun does, you almost don’t understand how at one point, a boy with his personality was just walking around and existing as a human. You understand why he was chosen to be an angel.

Puckering his lips playfully, Jaeyun leans in expectantly, silently requesting a goodnight kiss. Without hesitation, you lean in beside him, meeting his lips with tenderness. As your mouths meet, a gentle murmur escapes him, barely audible against your lips. "I'll come through in a bit," he suggests softly.

You shake your head, a small smile playing on your lips. "It's okay, baby. Spend some time with everyone," you murmur in return, nudging your nose against his affectionately. He gives you a questioning look, silently asking if you're sure, to which you simply nod in reassurance.

"Okay, I love you," he smiles warmly, his eyes reflecting the depth of his affection as he bids you goodnight.

"Love you too," you reply softly, your heart swelling as you reciprocate his affectionate words. With a lingering gaze, you reluctantly pull away from Jaeyun's embrace, a fond smile gracing your lips as you whisper your goodnight.

Turning to the rest of the group, you offer a warm farewell, exchanging nods and smiles before excusing yourself from the cosy gathering. As you make your way down the hallway to your bedroom, the soft glow of the dimmed lights casts a tranquil ambience, enveloping you in a sense of calm.

The gentle padding of your footsteps echoes through the hallway, accompanied by the occasional crackle of the fire in the living room. Each step brings you closer to the comfort of your own space, where you can finally unwind and recharge after the day's events.

You enter the room and head straight for your case, opening it to rummage around for the pyjamas you packed. Unlike your doll spouse, you packed only the essentials, that being Jaeyun’s oversized t-shirt and some underwear. You still don’t understand why he would bring a full set of plaid pyjamas when he always sleeps in his boxers anyway.

Your fingers pause in their search as you hear the soft knock on the already slightly ajar door. Swiftly turning around, panties in hand, you're met with the sight of Sunghoon standing there, holding a cup of water in his hands, his eyes lingering on the pink underwear you're holding.

"Those are my favourite," he remarks, tilting his head to nod at the delicate garment dangling from your finger, his tone laced with playful mischief.

You quickly shove the panties back into your case, laughing awkwardly to diffuse the moment. It's silly to feel bashful around Sunghoon - he's seen every pair you own, every part of you laid bare - he's even seen your period pants, and those are definitely not a pretty sight.

Sunghoon chuckles at your antics, choosing to ignore the urge to tease you about your now beetroot face. Holding the glass of water up to catch your sight he walks into your room. “Here, thought you could use some water. It’s been hot as hell at nighttime these days.”

You nod appreciatively, touched by his consideration, as he places the glass on your bedside table. As he turns back to you, you meet his gaze, silently exchanging stares. He’s grown a little softer since you last saw him. You don’t know if it’s just your imagination or the lighting, but his eyes look less cold and that black cloud that followed him around is a faded shade of grey.

Instead of leaving, he just stays put as if he wishes to speak to you about something but he doesn’t have the courage to. It’s ironic considering he’s a demon from the underworld and you’re just a girl, yet, he looks slightly scared of you. It’s such a juxtaposition to a few months ago that you wonder what transpired here after you left.

You decide to at least make some conversation to fill the silence, “How has it been here? I bet you’re all having a great time now that there is one less doll to fight for Soonyeol’s attention,” you jab teasingly, smiling softly.

He gives you a soft pity laugh, one that someone gives when the other couldn’t be more wrong in their assumptions. “It’s pretty much the same,” he shrugs, stepping closer to you, his demeanour shifting, anguish bubbling under the surface slightly. “She mushes over Heeseung and Jongseong, they go about their business.”

“And you?”

“I’m…here,” he breathes out, dejection laced within his tone.

Sunghoon settles onto the edge of your bed, clasping his hands together, and you can't help but feel a pang of concern for him. His internal struggle is evident, and you wonder if he's wrestling with something he's hesitant to share. Never once you’ve seen him look so human, his normal cold exterior could give you ice burn, so this is new territory for both of you.

With a soft sigh, Sunghoon finally starts to speak. It's clear he's grappling with whether to open up or keep his thoughts to himself. “You know, it never used to bother me, being the last choice or even just a choice for that matter. I got what I wanted, I was content with everything.”

Sunghoon's words hang in the air, heavy with a sense of resignation. You listen quietly, sensing the weight of his thoughts as he navigates the complexities of them. This has to be difficult for him considering demons aren’t known for heart-to-hearts, so you want to give him the respect he deserves and take in his thoughts.

"I didn’t care because I don’t think I’ve felt anything for a long time," he admits, his voice tinged with a hint of melancholy. "The past however many years down there, and the almost five years here, I just didn’t feel a thing. No happiness, no sadness, no fucking thing at all." 

His words sit heavily in your heart, and you can't help but feel a pang of sympathy for him rather. You can understand having a lot of emotions at once but if he hasn’t felt them in years, he might as well be laying down in a stampede of turmoil.

He chuckles darkly and shakes his head, grasping the heaviness of the situation as he says it out loud for the first time. “When I was working as a soldier under Dis, it was like I had to switch them off to survive. I couldn’t keep any humane aspect of me because it would kill me to know that I was doing all these cruel and monstrous things.”

His words paint a vivid picture of the internal battle he's waged for survival, forced to suppress his humanity in order to endure the atrocities he was compelled to commit, the experience surrendering him to his demon ways. It's a harrowing revelation, one that leaves you grappling with the enormity of his suffering. 

Sunghoon's words challenge your preconceived notions about demons, forcing you to reconsider your assumptions about their nature. While you once believed that demons took pride in their wrongdoings and found pleasure in the pain of others, Sunghoon's experience suggests otherwise. Perhaps some demons are simply products of their environment, forced to adapt to survive in a world that demands cruelty and brutality.

As you reflect on Sunghoon's past and his evident lack of joy in his actions, you begin to question whether he truly belongs in the same category as the demons you once feared. Maybe he wasn't a bad guy at all, just someone who was given the wrong end of the deal. While he may not have been saintly enough to earn a place in heaven, he also doesn't seem to fit the mould of a typical demon.

The realisation dawns on you that perhaps Sunghoon defies easy categorisation, existing in a grey area between good and evil. Surely, in the universe you inhabit, with its myriad mystical creatures - demons, angels, goblins, and humans alike - there must be an understanding that no one person is entirely pure or wholly evil.

"I turned up, did my job, rinse and repeat, you know? And killing people, well, that was one thing, but the torture of people who didn’t even deserve it, or the…" he swallows harshly, as if suppressing the disgust that bubbles from his guilt, struggling to admit anything else he partook in, "I did all that, with no bat of an eye for so fucking long."

His admission is raw and unfiltered, laying bare the depths of his remorse and the internal struggle he's faced. It's clear that he carries a heavy burden of guilt, grappling with his past life as a soldier.

For a moment, there's a palpable silence between you, the weight of his confession settling over the room like a thick fog. You find yourself at a loss for words, unsure of how to offer comfort or solace in the face of such profound suffering. This isn’t someone's cat dying, this is years of mental torture, and nothing you say can console that.

Grabbing his hand, you interlock your fingers with his. "You must have had something good inside of you to stand up against Dis though, to fight your way out of his legion," you offer softly, hoping to provide some semblance of comfort.

It may not be much, but you want Sunghoon to know that you see beyond his past, beyond the darkness that once consumed him. You want him to understand that whatever happened down there in the depths of hell, you won't judge him for it. His struggle and sacrifice to break free from that life, to reject the cruelty and injustice he was forced to perpetuate, speaks volumes about the strength of his character.

"Dis wants death to everything he didn’t create," he growls out, his tone dripping with contempt. "He was being greedy and started hurting fellow soldiers. It doesn’t take emotion to know that it was going to end in a be killed or die trying situation."

The memory of his fellow soldiers' bodies burning before him flashes vividly in his mind, and you can sense the torment in his voice as he relives those traumatic moments. He thinks about the countless times he was made to strike the match, being complicit in the horror that unfolded before his eyes, and the guilt weighs heavily on his conscience.

"That doesn’t make me a good person," he continues, his voice trembling with self-condemnation. "It makes me scum because I watched it for so long, turning a blind eye when I should have been doing anything at all to stop it."

His admission is gut-wrenching, laying bare the depths of his remorse and self-loathing. In that moment, you're overwhelmed by a profound sense of empathy for him, wanting nothing more than to offer comfort and support as he grapples with the demons of his past.

Sunghoon’s body trembles as all his emotions flood him, his entity unequipped to handle such a vast complexity. 

"Oh, Sunghoon," you murmur softly, your heart aching for him as you envelop him in a tight embrace, offering what comfort you can in this moment of vulnerability. You hold him close, rocking him gently as he grapples with the weight of his confession.

"I can't imagine how you're feeling," you continue, your voice filled with empathy and compassion. "No one ever will, and I wish I could take the pain away from everything that you're feeling."

Sunghoon nods in response, his gaze fixed on the ground as his eyes flicker between black and normal. You hold him tighter, silently offering your support and understanding as he processes the tumult of emotions swirling within him. At this moment, all you can do is be there for him, a source of solace amid his inner turmoil.

Pushing you away gently, Sunghoon finally looks at you, his gaze searching your eyes for understanding. When he sees the genuine sympathy reflected in your gaze, he relaxes slightly, a sense of relief washing over him.

"I think you brought my humanity back," he confesses, his thumb stroking your hand to comfort you as if you were the one who just had vivid flashbacks to the worst moments of your life and not him.

You tilt your head in confusion, your brows furrowing. His light laughter at your concerned expression eases the tension slightly, but you're still puzzled by his words. 

"It's not a bad thing, baby girl, don't worry," Sunghoon reassures you, his tone gentle as he seeks to alleviate any concerns you may have. But there's a determination in his eyes as he continues, a resolve to confront the turmoil within him head-on.

"Yes, I'm going to have to work through whatever the fuck trauma I have because there are so many negative feelings right now," he admits, his voice tinged with resignation. "But you, fuck, you made me experience all the good ones again."

His words catch you off guard, a surge of emotion welling up within you as you realise the impact you've had on him. Despite the darkness of his past and the challenges that lie ahead, there's a glimmer of hope in his words. “You have done something that Soonyeol couldn’t do, something I couldn’t even do for myself.” 

Reaching his hand up, he cradles your face just like earlier, this time rather than instinct, it’s purposeful, to ease you into his next bout of words. “When you were here, I knew I wanted you around all the time. At first, I thought it was just because I was bored and you were there.”

Ouch. 

He sees your wince at his brutal honesty, and his eyes widen in realisation. "Oh god, baby girl, no, no no," he exclaims, his other hand reaching out now to cup both your cheeks as he shakes his head fervently. He rolls his eyes at his own passing comment, recognising that it's probably the last thing you want to hear.

"I don’t mean it like that," he clarifies quickly, his voice laced with urgency. "I mean, I stopped thinking like that after a few weeks in. I felt warmth for the first time in so long that I thought Dis had found me and I was being dragged back to hell with how warm it was."

You grasp his hands, gently pulling them away from your face as you listen intently to his words. You haven’t said much, but there's nothing to say right now. You can't interrupt him while he's pouring his heart out to you. Instead, you offer him your unwavering support, silently conveying your understanding and acceptance as he shares his innermost thoughts and feelings with you.

Once he sees that you’re no longer offended by his words, he continues, “When you left, I tried to turn it off, longing for you the way I did. I thought you would never come back so I tried to shut the pain out, but somehow it only made every feeling and memory I had suppressed come to the front of my mind, I missed you as soon as you drove off that day, and I miss you even more now that you’re sitting in front of me.”

“Sunghoon, you don’t have to miss me when I’m right here.”

“But you’ll never be mine. Jaeyun is your soulmate, how the fuck am I supposed to compete with that?” he asks softly, laughing away his anguish. He is trying to hide it but you can see this is as painful to him as reliving those memories. You didn’t realise the hold you had on him or how leaving would affect him.

In all honesty, you thought that with Soonyeol back, the other boys wouldn’t need you at all. Heeseung can say he wants you but that’s in no way the same way that Jaeyun wants you, the way Sunghoon clearly wants you. 

You had missed the acts of care he performed for you, the aftercare becoming more loving as the weeks passed, how he would spend the night in your bed and cuddle despite his inability to sleep. He did all of this for you because…

"Whatever love feels like, I think this is as close as I am capable of feeling," Sunghoon confesses, his voice heavy with emotion.

"Hooni-"

"I know, you have Jaeyun and we can’t share anymore, but I wanted to thank you for everything you’ve done for me," he interrupts gently, his words filled with gratitude.

"We could."

You hear a voice in the doorway, and as you turn to face it, you see Jaeyun standing awkwardly, his eyes shifting between you and Sunghoon.

Removing yourself from Sunghoon's embrace, you're acutely aware of the situation's delicate nature. Jaeyun must have been standing there for a while, silently witnessing his brother's confession to you.

Sunghoon's expression tightens, a mixture of surprise and apprehension crossing his features as he exchanges a hesitant glance with Jaeyun. It's clear that he hadn't anticipated Jaeyun's sudden appearance, and the tension in the room thickens with his presence.

For a moment, silence hangs heavy in the air, the weight of unspoken words lingering between the three of you. As you search for the right words to break the awkwardness, you can't help but feel a pang of guilt for the situation you find yourself in.

Jaeyun offers a small smile, his eyes softening with understanding. "We could share again, like before," he suggests gently.

Sunghoon shakes his head, his expression sombre. "Jaeyun, we can't. It's different now that you're both in a relationship," he explains, his voice tinged with regret. "Look, I didn't come in here to get in between you both. I just wanted you to know how I felt. I think maybe saying it out loud could help me process it all a little better," he confesses, his gaze shifting between you and Jaeyun.

"You love Y/N, I love her too," he begins, his voice calm yet resolute. "I think as her partner, I want her to experience love from every person she can receive it."

His words are met with a moment of contemplative silence, the weight of his proposition sinking in. Sunghoon's expression softens, a flicker of gratitude and relief crossing his features as he processes Jaeyun's unexpected response.

"Baby doll, relationships don’t work that way, I mean they can but not ours," you murmur softly, the words tumbling out as you try to make sense of the situation.

But Jaeyun's next question catches you off guard, causing you to pause and consider his words carefully. "You love him too, do you not?" he asks, his gaze steady as he waits for your response, no judgment in his tone.

Do you love Sunghoon?

There’s no denying there is something there between you both, but you never gave into it once you found out he was a demon, knowing that you already make bad enough choices with men nevermind falling for an evil entity - the men you’ve swiped on tinder are demonic enough.

But you know now that he isn’t evil. In no way is he a saint but who is? He’s been labelled evil yet as you stare at him, you see nothing but a bright soul staring back at you. You have feelings for him, those could be love if you open up your heart to him rather than closing it away.

You look into Sunghoon’s eyes and realise, there’s only one organ in your body that you should listen to, and it thumps so easily for Sunghoon.

"Yes," you reply softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "I love him."

The admission hangs in the air, the weight of it settling over the room like a gentle breeze. In that moment, you feel a sense of clarity and certainty wash over you. 

Despite the happiness within your chest at the words finally leaving your lips, you worry about Jaeyun’s reaction to your words. Yet, when you look at him, your pretty doll is smiling widely, walking over to you both. Jaeyun's smile is radiant, his eyes alight with genuine happiness as he approaches. There's a warmth in his expression that fills you with a sense of reassurance as if he's silently affirming his acceptance and support.

“Then let’s do it. Sunghoon, you’ll love it in the city, there is so much to do and see. There are so many things to take pictures of, and they have indoor ice rinks, can you believe it? You don’t even need to wait until the lake freezes over in the winter to skate!”

Jaeyun’s excitement fills the air, any tension from Sunghoon’s past revelations or his loving confession is now swept to the side due to your boyfriend’s happiness. He’s one in a million because what other man could hear their best friend and girlfriend confessing love to one another and be thrilled about the prospect of a throuple?

Sunghoon smiles but shakes his head, “I can’t come with you, Jaeyun. Heeseung would never let me go. Plus, Soonyeol already had a hard time when you left, I can’t do that to her.”

"You mean the same Soonyeol who doesn’t pay attention to you anymore?" you inquire, your words cutting through the tension with brutal honesty. It's a difficult question to ask, but one that needs to be addressed.

Sunghoon's expression tightens at your blunt assessment, a flicker of pain crossing his features before he composes himself.

"What would the old you do? Not this Sunghoon, the one just before I arrived here?" you press, your voice gentle yet insistent.

He ponders your question, his gaze falling to the ground as he delves deep into his thoughts. After a moment of silence, he speaks, his voice tinged with uncertainty. "I would have... done what I wanted."

"And what do you want?" Jaeyun prompts.

Sunghoon hesitates for a moment, his eyes searching yours for guidance. Then, with a sense of resolve, he confesses, "I want to come with you." His words hang in the air, a tangible declaration of his desires and aspirations. In that moment, you can feel the weight of his longing, his yearning for something more than the confines of his current existence. “It’s not that easy though.”

“Forget about all that, just follow your emotions for now," you say with a fond smile, urging Sunghoon to trust in his instincts. "What are they saying to you?"

“That I should kiss you.”

Your gaze flickers to Jaeyun, whose grin speaks volumes, his eyes filled with understanding. With a quick nod of agreement from your boyfriend, you return your attention to Sunghoon, who appears rigid and apprehensive, fearing he may have been too honest in his confession and jeopardised his chances.

Perhaps he should have expressed the deep-seated desire for freedom that has been gnawing at him. Heeseung had painted a picture of independence, free from rules and authority, a dream Sunghoon longed to pursue. But trapped within the confines of the mansion, he realises he's merely exchanged one form of captivity for another.

Was it as brutal as Dis? Not in any shape or form, but as long as Heeseung reigns over this mansion, Sunghoon might as well be back in the cell.

Sunghoon feels stifled, yearning for the freedom to chart his own course. In the months since you've been apart, he's come to understand that true freedom isn't just about evading control; it's about embracing the power to shape his own destiny. This isn’t the life he needs.

He needs a life with you.

Once you see his eyes soften, you know whatever turmoil is raging in his head is subsiding, giving you the opening to reach out and touch his face, providing any reassurance that you can. 

Looking into Sunghoon's eyes, you see a beautiful flicker of humanity, and you know that no matter what happens, you need to do everything in your power to help him leave the confines of this house.

Kissing your palm, Sunghoon closes his eyes and trails his lips up your arm, leaving a path of tender kisses. His touch is so gentle, so unlike his usual intensity, that your body melts under his love. You're acutely aware of how special this moment is, knowing that very few have ever experienced this side of him.

He shuffles closer to you on the bed, continuing his path along your shoulder and up your neck. He sucks softly and swiftly over your tender spot, eliciting a small whimper from you. It's been so long since Sunghoon touched you that his lips had become a distant memory. Yet for him, these kisses and caresses are second nature; he hasn’t stopped thinking about you or your preferences since you left.

Having spent so much time together, Sunghoon learned everything there is to know about you. He discovered your pleasure points, memorised your likes and dislikes, and committed them to memory. Even when he touched himself at night or shared fleeting moments with Soonyeol, it was you he thought about. His body instinctively moved to please you, even if it was another woman beneath him.

He wonders if that's why Soonyeol has become more distant. Perhaps she senses the difference, noticing how his movements lack the passion he reserves for his memories of you. Her body, as much as he might try to please her, is incomparable to yours in his mind.

Sunghoon's kisses grow more fervent, his hands roaming your body as if he's trying to memorize every curve and contour. You respond in kind, your fingers threading through his hair as you pull him closer. The connection between you is electric, a mixture of longing and hope that fuels your determination to free him.

"Let me have you," he whispers against your skin, his voice filled with vulnerability and desperation. "Even if it’s just for tonight."

You pull back slightly to look into his eyes, your heart aching at the raw emotion you see within him. “I’ll do everything I can to hold you forever, Hoonie,” you whisper tenderly, hoping your words convey the sincerity of your heart.

He closes the space between you, his mouth enveloping yours with such desire that it takes your breath away. His tongue wraps around yours as his hands grip your waist, pulling you onto his lap so you’re straddling him. The kiss is hot, making your whole body feel like it's on fire, your lips plumping with each lick and suck from Sunghoon. He loves the taste of you more than anything.

His hands slide under your shirt, fingertips grazing your skin and sending shivers down your spine. You arch into his touch, feeling the intensity of his desire matching your own. Every movement, every caress, is filled with a desperate need to hold onto this moment, to make it last as long as possible.

Sunghoon's lips leave yours to trail kisses down your neck, his breath warm and tantalising against your skin. You tilt your head back, giving him better access as he continues his path, his hands now exploring the curves of your hips and thighs.

Your fingers tug at his shirt, pulling it over his head and tossing it aside. You run your hands over his toned chest. He groans softly, the sound vibrating against your skin as he returns his mouth to yours in a searing kiss.

Jaeyun observes you both lose yourselves in each other, his hand subconsciously reaching for his clothed cock, palming himself for some relief. Although your back is facing him, the noises escaping your mouth are enough to tell him that you’re enjoying yourself. Every moan, every gasp, sends shivers down his spine and fuels his own arousal.

The sight of Sunghoon devouring you with his kisses, the way your bodies move together with such desperate passion, it’s all too much for Jaeyun to handle. He bites his lip, trying to suppress the groan building in his throat as his hand moves with more urgency.

Sunghoon's hands roam your body with a fervour that speaks of months of pent-up desire. He caresses your sides, his fingers digging into your flesh as if he's afraid you'll disappear if he lets go. His mouth travels from your lips to your neck, leaving a trail of wet, burning kisses that make you shiver.

You arch your back, pressing closer to Sunghoon, your breath hitching with each touch. Your hands find their way to his hair, tugging gently, eliciting a deep groan from him. The sound reverberates through your body, intensifying the pleasure coursing through you.

Jaeyun's eyes hood over, fixed on the way Sunghoon's hands knead your flesh, the way your body responds to every touch, every kiss. He can see the way Sunghoon's tongue glides along your collarbone, the way your skin flushes under his attention.

The room fills with the sounds of your shared desire, creating an intoxicating symphony that pushes Jaeyun closer to the edge. He can't tear his eyes away from you, can't stop the rhythm of his hand as he imagines being part of this heated exchange.

Sunghoon’s kisses grow more intense, his hands exploring the soft skin beneath your shirt. He cups your breasts, thumbs grazing your nipples over your bra, drawing a sharp gasp from you. You press into him, craving more, and he responds by capturing your lips in another searing kiss.

Jaeyun's breath catches in his throat as he watches, his own desire building to a fever pitch. He longs to join you, to feel your touch, to lose himself in the shared heat of your bodies. He wishes there was a way to indulge in your session and give you just as much pleasure as Sunghoon is.

Noticing his friend's act of arousal, Sunghoon’s eyes flicker to Jaeyun’s crotch where the hard outline of his dick strains against his trousers. Jaeyun’s hand moves faster, dipping below the waistband in a futile attempt to find relief. It’s not fair to leave him out, especially considering it’s with his consent that you and Sunghoon can divulge like this, offering to share you is an act of love. Sunghoon would be cruel to leave him out.

“Jaeyun, come here,” Sunghoon commands, his voice husky and filled with an unspoken promise.

Jaeyun hesitates for a moment, his eyes locking with yours when you turn around to look at him. You nod, a silent invitation that sends a thrill through him. Although Sunghoon is only kissing you, you looked so fucked out already that Jaeyun wonders if he could have the same effect.

Because you’ve only ever had sex with both of them separately, Jaeyun has never thought about how you are with Sunghoon. He has never been jealous, always willing to understand that what Sunghoon gives you is different from him, but seeing it in action is making him want to prove his worth.

Shifting slightly backwards on the bed, Sunghoon creates space for Jaeyun to join, his hold on your waist tightening. When you both situate yourself in the middle of the king-sized bed, Sunghoon bucks his hips up, drawing out a long moan from you. “I’m still in charge, got it?” he warns you playfully, biting at your bottom lip. He knows you take control of the situation with Jaeyun but there’s no way Sunghoon will let you do that now.

Quickly, you nod and peck his lips, “Anything you say, but go easy on him, yeah?” you ask, your eyes searching his for agreement. You love how rough Sunghoon is with you but Jaeyun doesn’t like to be degraded the way you do; it’s important that Jaeyun gets the reassurance he needs throughout the experience.

As Jaeyun climbs onto the bed, you reach out to him, your fingers brushing against his cheek before pulling him into a deep, lingering kiss. The sensation of having both men so close, so eager, sends waves of pleasure through you.

Sunghoon’s hands continue their exploration, his touch firm and possessive, while Jaeyun’s hands find your waist, pulling you closer with a gentler touch. The three of you move together in a rhythm that feels both natural and intoxicating.

Sunghoon leans in, his lips brushing against Jaeyun’s ear. “Let’s make her feel everything she deserves. Don't be selfish, understand?” he murmurs, his voice a sultry promise. You never thought you would be so turned on by the affection shared between them. Your pussy clenches around nothing as you feel Jaeyun whine into your mouth at Sunghoon’s close proximity.

With a firm slap on your thigh, Sunghoon signals for you to climb off his lap, only for Jaeyun to smile and pull you closer to him. While you’re busy kissing your boyfriend, Sunghoon’s fingers dance up your back, unclasping your bra to let your tits bounce freely. He presses his chest to your back and starts to grasp your boobs roughly, tweaking and pulling at your sensitive nipples.

He leans his chin on your shoulder and licks a long strip up your neck before nibbling at your ear. “I want you to ride his face, baby girl, you can do that for me, can’t you?”

You draw back from Jaeyun’s lips, eyes widening as you process his words. Sunghoon’s intense stare sends shivers down your spine, and you feel a rush of excitement mixed with a touch of nervousness. 

Normally you would say no because you don’t want to suffocate your partner, scared that you’ll get so lost in pleasure that you will trap them down there and cut off their oxygen, their last memories being succumbed to your pussy. But they don’t breathe so there is not a percentage of a chance that your apprehensions could come true.

Jaeyun’s ears perk up, curious to how you will react. You aren’t one to receive head from him, opting to focus on his pleasure rather than your own when it comes to oral; the noises he makes are enough for you most of the time, plus, it’s his cock that is the real star of the show after all.

Sunghoon’s hands wrap around your wrists, bringing them to a stretch. “Keep them there or else I’ll need to tie you up. You don’t want that, do you?” he murmurs against your skin, his hands snaking down your arms, ghosting over your armpit to make you shiver. 

Of course, you don’t want that because then you can’t touch them, you can’t run your fingers through Jaeyun’s hair or grip onto Sunghoon’s back when he drives into you. Touching them was almost as good as the sex itself.

With a nod, Sunghoon plants a peck on your shoulder as a thank you for your cooperation, although he is a little sad he couldn’t tie up your pretty body so he can use you as he pleases. Another time, maybe.

“Jaeyun, take off your clothes,” he instructs his best friend who eagerly bounces off the bed, shedding his clothes quicker than you’ve ever seen him before. His cock bounces to attention as it finally has the chance to breathe, its tip already pink with arousal.

Grabbing the hem of your t-shirt, Sunghoon whisks it off your body along with your bra, leaving your tits on full display for Jaeyun to gawk at, licking his lips as he smiles widely. “Take her bottoms off.” 

Jaeyun nods, his eyes dark with desire. Together, they begin to undress you, their hands working in unison to remove your clothes with a mixture of urgency and reverence. Each touch, each kiss, ignites your skin, making you feel worshipped and adored.

As your clothes fall away, Jaeyun’s hands move to your breasts, his fingers teasing your nipples while Sunghoon’s mouth patterns kisses into your shouldblade. You arch into their touch, your body trembling with anticipation, your glistening cunt dripping onto the sheets.

Jaeyun lays down, eagerly awaiting your heat atop of his face, tongue already sticking out in preparation. He looks so much like a puppy waiting for his treat that you can’t help but pout and smile fondly at him. You bring your aching arms down and manouvre yourself into position, hovering above him. 

“If you want to stop at any point, baby doll, you just tap my leg, yeah?” you smile down at him in gratitude, even if it wasn’t his idea. He hardly registers your words and nods absentmindedly, too busy staring at your folds and thinking about that first sweet taste.

The moment your thighs encase his head, he eagerly latches onto your core, his tongue delving into your folds with fervour. He grips your thighs as he gets to work, sucking and licking you like a man starved of his favourite meal.

Sunghoon’s hands remain on your breasts, squeezing and kneading, his fingers pinching your nipples each time you move your hips, trying to match some sort of rhythm. The dual sensations make you moan, your body is ignited with sensations from all over. Jaeyun’s tongue works expertly, exploring every inch of your heat, while Sunghoon’s touch heightens your pleasure.

Sunghoon’s lips find your neck again, leaving a trail of wet kisses. “Good girl,” he whispers, his voice dripping with approval. “Feel how much he loves pleasing you. You deserve all this attention, baby.”

Your hands grip the headboard for support as you move against Jaeyun’s mouth, his hands gripping your hips to guide your movements. The room fills with the sounds of your moans, Jaeyun’s eager licks, and Sunghoon’s whispered praises.

Sunghoon retracts from you, allowing Jaeyun to indulge in his own devices as he strips down, his cock springing into action, already leaking at the sight of you getting lost in pleasure. It’s strange to see you from this angle, usually viewing your contorted face through his lashes as he looks up at you.

Pumping his cock with his right hand, Jaeyun’s jaw slackens as he relieves himself, momentarily losing focus on you, much to Sunghoon’s disapproval. “Jaeyun, if I see you touch your cock one more time, I’m going to chop it off,” he says harshly, leaving no room for argument. “This is for Y/N, not your selfish needs.”

Jaeyun immediately halts his movements, his eyes wide with a mix of surprise and obedience. He quickly shifts his attention back to you, his hands returning to your thighs, gripping them firmly as he resumes his dedicated task of pleasuring you. His tongue works with renewed eagerness, each flick and nibble driving you closer to the edge.

Sunghoon's eyes darken with lust as he watches the scene before him. He steps closer, his cock inches from your face. The sight of his rigid length, combined with Jaeyun’s relentless tongue, sends a new wave of desire coursing through you. You can't help but lean forward, your lips parting as you take him into your mouth.

A low groan escapes Sunghoon's lips as you wrap your tongue around him, the salty taste of his pre-cum mixing with your saliva. He threads his fingers through your hair, guiding your movements as you take him deeper, your eyes fluttering shut in pleasure.

“That's it, baby,” Sunghoon murmurs, his voice a husky whisper. “Show me how much you want this.”

With Jaeyun’s mouth still working wonders between your legs and Sunghoon’s cock filling your mouth, you're completely overwhelmed by the sensations. Every nerve in your body feels alive, every touch magnified by the intensity of the moment.

Sunghoon’s grip tightens in your hair as he begins to thrust, his hips rocking in time with your movements. You moan around him, the vibration sending shivers down his spine. The room is filled with the sounds of pleasure: your muffled moans, Jaeyun’s eager slurps, and Sunghoon’s low, primal groans.

Jaeyun's tongue delves deeper, his pace quickening as he feels you nearing the edge again. He wants to push you over, to make you shatter with pleasure. You grind against his face, your body trembling with the effort to hold back.

"Are you close, baby?" Sunghoon's voice, strained with desire, cuts through the air, the sight of your cheeks hollowed and tears glistening in your eyes only intensifies his urgency.

“Yes.”

“Yeah.”

Sunghoon hears two mewling responses, surprising him. Looking down at Jaeyun’s cock, he sees it jumping in need, ready to explode at any moment. He can’t reprimand him considering your pussy does the same to him, bringing him to the brink of busting a nut, although, never has it been free-handed.

With a swift motion, Sunghoon pulls you off his cock, wiping away the mess around your mouth before offering you his thumb to suck on. "Let it go, baby girl," he murmurs, his voice laced with need.

Despite Sunghoon stopping the abuse of your throat, Jaeyun redoubles his efforts, his tongue working tirelessly to bring you to the peak of pleasure. He can feel your body tensing, the telltale signs of your impending orgasm driving him to push harder. His nose rubs your clit as he works your hips to move faster, each time it hits, your whine out.

The sensations overwhelm you as you teeter on the brink, your body trembling with the effort to hold back. But Sunghoon's soft words and Jaeyun's skilled tongue prove to be too much, and with a final, desperate cry, you shatter into a million pieces, your release washing over you in a tidal wave of pleasure.

As waves of ecstasy ripple through your body, you cling onto Sunghoon’s waist, gripping so tight that your knuckles turn white. Your muscles contract involuntarily as you ride out the intense pleasure. Sunghoon's grip on your hair tightens as he watches you unravel,  satisfaction evident in his eyes. He leans down to capture your lips in a searing kiss, swallowing your moans of ecstasy as you come down from your high.

Jaeyun continues to lap at your sensitive folds, his tongue moving in slow, languid strokes as he savours the taste of your release. His own arousal pulses through him and as he unlatches his mouth, he groans out, coming undone on his stomach completely hands-free, his cock dancing of its own accord.

You feel some of his cum hit your ass, his load shooting high up his body, causing you to peel away from Sunghoon and turn your head to look. It’s a beautiful sight, the white painting his toned tummy as his dick pulses in the aftermath. 

Sunghoon watches with a smirk, his own arousal fighting against the erotic display before him. As you climb off, he reaches out to stroke Jaeyun's cheek, his touch gentle and affectionate. "Well done, Jaeyun," he murmurs, his voice filled with pride.

As Jaeyun's climax subsides, he sinks into the bed, his cock flushed with exertion. You reach out to him, running your fingers through his hair in a gesture of comfort and affection. The touches from both you and Sunghoon are more than he could ever ask for, the attention and affection he is receiving is beyond his wildest dreams. 

With a sheepish smile and flushed cheeks, Jaeyun turns to you, his voice slightly hoarse from his earlier moans. "Sorry about that," he mumbles, his eyes betraying his embarrassment. "I couldn't help myself."

Sunghoon chuckles, shaking his head. "How about you make it up to her and help me clean her up?" he suggests, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Jaeyun gets up and wipes his tummy with some tissues from the box at the side of your bed before making his way over to you, peeling some more tissues to wipe you down. But Sunghoon stops him, shaking his head.

You watch with curiosity as they exchange silent words, a private conversation unfolding between them. As you lay back, anticipation tingles through your body, wondering what their next move will be.

Their synchronised actions take you by surprise as both boys wear smug smiles, their eyes alight with mischief as they slide down the bed, positioning themselves between your thighs with confident ease.

“What are yo- Oh fuck,” you moan out loudly, legs instinctively spreading wider.

Your breath catches in your throat as their tongues begin to trace hot stripes up the cum-covered folds of your pussy. Their mouths work in perfect harmony, their tongues intertwining in a tantalizing dance, as they meticulously clean you up. Each stroke of their tongues sends shivers of pleasure coursing through you, leaving you trembling and gasping for more, lost in the dizzying sensation of their dual ministrations. 

You arch your back, moaning in ecstasy as they skillfully coax another wave of arousal from deep within you. Their combined efforts leave you teetering on the edge of bliss, your senses overwhelmed by the intensity of their dual assault.

Sunghoon's nose brushes against Jaeyun's as they share a knowing smile, their shared goal evident in the way they work together to pleasure you. Their synchronised movements create a rhythm that mirrors the pounding of your heart, each flick of their tongues sending you soaring higher and higher towards the pinnacle of pleasure.

You don’t know how you got lucky enough to have two eager-to-please dolls swimming around in your cunt, but you need to thank whoever let you be born in this lifetime to experience it.

Unable to hold back any longer, you surrender to the overwhelming sensations coursing through your body, your second orgasm crashing over you. Your cries of rapture fill the room as you ride the pleasure, your body trembling in their grasp as they continue to worship you with their mouths.

So much for cleaning up.

Your chest is tight as you fight for breath, your climax so overwhelming it winded you. Sunghoon notices you struggle and pulls you up from the lying position. “Sit here for me, baby girl,” he whispers, kissing you long enough that some of your essence transfers from his lips to yours.

Reaching over, he picks up the water he brought in earlier, bringing it to your lips. “Drink some. We aren’t done with you yet.”

Your hands tremble slightly as you take the glass from him, grateful for the cool relief it offers. You take a few sips, letting the water soothe your parched throat as you try to steady your breathing. Jaeyun holds the cup with you as he sees you struggle, his touch is gentle as he supports you, his concern evident in the way he watches you with tender eyes.

Once you've had your fill, he sets the glass aside and pulls you into his arms, holding you close as he presses soft kisses to your forehead. "Are you okay, Y/N?" he murmurs, his voice filled with genuine concern.

You nod weakly, leaning into his embrace as you take comfort in his warmth. Despite the intensity of your climax, you feel safe and loved in his arms, just as you always do.

“Should we stop? Y/N looks pretty exhausted,” Jaeyun looks to his friend, seeking guidance from him. Jaeyun isn’t one to go rough so he isn’t used to you looking so dishevelled and out of it. 

You’re just glad he didn’t witness you at the merciless hands of Heeseung.

Sunghoon shakes his head, “She’s a tough girl,” he begins, stroking your cheek and you nuzzle into his touch. “Plus, she’s never satisfied until that pretty little cunt is being filled with cock, isn’t that right baby?”  

You feel a blush spread across your cheeks at Sunghoon's words, but you can't deny the truth in them. Despite your exhaustion, there's a part of you that still craves more, that yearns for the feeling of being completely filled and consumed by pleasure.

Nodding slightly, you meet Sunghoon's gaze with a mixture of desire and vulnerability. "Yes," you admit softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "I want you, Sunghoon. I want both of you."

Sunghoon's eyes darken with desire at your words, his hands sliding down to grasp your hips possessively. "Good girl," he murmurs, his voice low and husky. "We'll take care of you, baby. Just let us know if it's too much."

With a silent understanding of your needs and his concerns lightened slightly thanks to your words, Jaeyun moves to sit beside you, his eyes filled with longing as he watches Sunghoon's hands roam your body. You can feel the heat between the three of you, the anticipation building as you prepare for what's to come next.

“I want you on all fours for me, baby girl,” Sunghoon’s tone is back to his commanding self, taking charge of the situation once he knows you can handle more. 

Jaeyun pouts, looking at him in confusion, “I should get to go first, I’m her boyfriend after all.”

Scoffing, Sunghoon shakes his head definitely, “Not a chance in hell, Jaeyun. You’ve had her for three months, It’s my turn.”

Sunghoon's words hang heavy in the air, a clear declaration of his intent. Jaeyun's expression shifts from confusion to a mix of disappointment and frustration. He opens his mouth to argue, but Sunghoon cuts him off with a stern look.

"No, Jaeyun," Sunghoon says firmly, his tone brooking no argument. "I'm not asking for your permission. I'm telling you what's going to fucking happen." That dominating side of Sunghoon still rearing its head when faced with protest

Jaeyun's shoulders tense at the command, a ripple of frustration evident in his expression. Yet, beneath the surface, there's a hint of resignation, a recognition of Sunghoon's authority at this moment. With a heavy sigh, he acquiesces, albeit reluctantly.

You catch the glint of disappointment in Jaeyun's eyes and offer him a reassuring smile. "Your turn will come, baby doll. Just be patient with us," you say, your voice soft and comforting. "Be good for me and Sunghoon, yeah?"

There's a warmth in your tone that Jaeyun finds hard to resist. He nods in response, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips despite his lingering disappointment.

"Yeah, okay," he murmurs, his words murmuring behind his pout. "I'll be good."

Sunghoon nods in acknowledgement, his attention already focused on you. He gestures for you to move into position, his eyes burning with desire as he watches you comply. His stare exudes a desire that sends shivers up the back of your neck, eagerness running through your veins as you prepare to be filled with his cock. 

The familiar ache of longing surges within you as Sunghoon positions himself, the tip of his cock teasingly brushing against your entrance. The anticipation is almost unbearable, every nerve in your body tingling with anticipation as you await the blissful sensation of being joined with him.

With a slow, deliberate thrust, Sunghoon enters you, his length filling you completely as you gasp in pleasure. The feeling of him stretching you, filling you, ignites a fire within you, eliciting a high-pitched whine from your mouth. Your nails dig into the sheets as you arch your back, welcoming him deeper into your warmth.

Sunghoon's movements are controlled yet powerful, each thrust sending waves of pleasure rippling through your body. His hands grip your hips firmly, guiding your movements as he sets a rhythm that leaves you breathless.

Jaeyun watches with a mixture of longing and admiration, his own desire evident in the way he bites his lip, his gaze fixed on the intimate act before him. Though he may not be participating at this moment, the sight of you and Sunghoon together fills him with a sense of fulfilment and arousal.

He starts to pump his cock slowly, rubbing his thumb over the slit in his bell, pressing down hard as he watches you get railed by the tall doll.

You see Jaeyun struggling, knowing that he wants nothing more than to be inside of you, his hand only giving him some relief but not anything like what he wants. As Sunghoon piledrives into you, balls slapping against your skin and hands gripped tightly into your hips, you place your hand over his cock, replacing his as you kiss his tip, spilling some of your warm spit onto it.

“You’re being so patient, baby doll.” you gasp between thrusts as Sunghoon bucks his hips faster, the bed moving below you and the headboard hitting the wall. You stroke his cock, trying to match the pace that Sunghoon has set. 

Jaeyun leans into your touch, his body trembling with anticipation as he surrenders to the sensations washing over him.  You look so beautiful with your eyes rolling to the back of your head, lost in your own desires while still trying to fulfil his.

“Suck it, baby girl, give your precious puppy the attention he wants,” Sunghoon’s tone is laced with mocking, eluding to the fact that you will always cater to Jaeyun even when he has done nothing to deserve it.

You don’t need to be told twice before your mouth is stuffed with your boyfriend’s length. You slurp him up with ease, the familiar taste of his faux skin making your pussy clench around Sunghoon; the sensation causes his cock to graze your walls so deliciously that you can’t help but moan in pleasure around Jaeyun.

You are so overwhelmed by all the emotions you are experiencing that your body surrenders to them both, letting them have their way with you in any way they please.

For Sunghoon, he relentlessly fucks into you, feeling his entire cock in your stomach. And for Jaeyun, he is holding your head and thrusting into you in time with the other doll, both of their cocks penetrating you so deep you’re sure if this was a hentai, their cocks would be kissing at the midway point.

Jaeyun looks up at Sunghoon and sees how concentrated he looks, his features echoing the power and determination of each thrust. He wonders if Sunghoon is so focused on you that he is forgetting himself in this situation.

Reaching over, Jaeyun cradles Sunghoon’s cheek, dragging him out of his concentration to look at him with bewilderment. But that look doesn’t deter Jaeyun, instead, he brings him closer to him and presses his lips to the shocked raven-haired boy.

As their lips meet in a tender kiss, the room seems to hold its breath, the air thick with unspoken emotions. Sunghoon's initial shock gives way to a sense of warmth and acceptance, his body melting into Jaeyun's embrace as he returns the sweet kiss.

In that moment, all pretence falls away, leaving only the raw, unfiltered connection between them. It's a gesture of solidarity, a silent acknowledgment of the bond that binds them together, regardless of the circumstances.

As they break apart, their eyes meet, a silent understanding passing between them. Sunghoon's heart swells with gratitude for the newfound sense of closeness blossoming between them. He gets why you dote on Jaeyun so much more than he ever did.

However, with the moment happening above you, you’ve been left to fend for yourself, rocking yourself between impaling on Sunghoon’s cock and deepthroating Jaeyun. You don’t mind putting the work in, especially if it gives Sunghoon and Jaeyun a chance to at least start to understand that sharing you could also open the possibility of sharing one another.

You don’t know how their dynamic will blossom but that’s part of the fun of it all, it’s something you can all work through together once you figure out a way to get Heeseung’s blessing.

Sunghoon's gaze is filled with admiration as he watches you, his lips curling into a wicked smile at the sight of your desperate efforts to please them both. It's a heady rush, knowing that you're willing to go to such lengths for their pleasure, and he can't help but feel a surge of desire coursing through him.

As you continue to fuck onto him with determination, Sunghoon's hands roam over your body, his touch igniting sparks of pleasure wherever it lands. He revels in the feeling of your tight walls clenching around him, the sensation driving him wild with need.

“Flip over for me, baby girl.” Sunghoon commands, slapping your ass to motion you on your back.

Obliging, you pop off Jaeyun’s cock and roll over, legs spread widely in the air as you pirouette on Sunghoon, his shaft never leaving you. The newfound angle just makes it easier to thrust into you, helping you reach that pinnacle peak of pleasure once again.

Jaeyun watches him take you roughly, too roughly for his taste because he can see the bruises forming over your gorgeous body. Jaeyun's concern for your well-being is evident in his eyes, his brow furrowing with worry as he watches Sunghoon's rough handling. Despite his reservations, he trusts Sunghoon to know your limits better than anyone, but that doesn't stop him from feeling the need to intervene.

"Sunghoon, please," Jaeyun implores, his voice filled with genuine concern. "Just... take it easy on her."

Sunghoon's laughter fills the room, the sound mixing with the symphony of moans and gasps as he continues to pound into you with relentless force. “Jaeyun, listen to her, she fucking loves it.” He presses down on your stomach hard, feeling himself deep inside you, “Tell him how much you love it.”

“I love it, I love it so much,” you whimper out, body squirming as it becomes overrun with a sudden urge to release, your walls clamping down on Sunghoon. 

Jaeyun's expression softens as he watches the interplay between you and Sunghoon. Despite his lingering concerns, he knows that Sunghoon cares for you deeply, and he can see the mutual trust and understanding that exists between you.

Still, he can't shake the feeling that you could use some extra tenderness and care, especially with the intensity of Sunghoon's actions. With a determined expression, he moves closer to the two of you, his hands gentle as he traces soothing circles over your skin, massaging your skin softly as if to ease the tension and forming bruises on your skin.

It’s all too much, the juxtaposition between gentle and rough is sending your mind into a tizzy and before you know it, you’re coming undone over Sunghoon’s cock. “I’m cumming! I’m fucking cumming!” you exclaim through laboured breaths, gasping out.

“I know you are, baby girl, cum all over my cock like a good girl, show Jaeyun what a good pup looks like.”

Sunghoon's thrusts grow more urgent, his movements fueled by the primal need for release. His guttural moans fill the room, mingling with your own cries of pleasure as you both approach the pinnacle of your passion together.

With a final, desperate thrust, Sunghoon pulls out and releases his load onto your stomach, his essence painting you like a canvas as he marks his territory. There's a possessiveness in his actions, an unspoken claim over you that speaks volumes despite the supposed arrangement of sharing, but he wants Jaeyun to see you covered in his seed, how your body is glistening because of him.

You only add to his ego as you cry out, wishing he was filling you up instead. Your pussy craves cum, it needs to be stuffed and Sunghoon just denied you the simple pleasure. “Please,” you plead, not saying exactly what you want, but rather your actions speak as your fingers scoop some of the cum on your tummy and start to finger it into you.

Jaeyun can hardly tear his eyes away from the erotic scene before him, his own arousal reaching new heights as he watches you, desperate and hungry for more. 

“Come on, give her what she wants, Jaeyun,” Sunghoon begins, moving to the side to let Jaeyun take over, “Fill that pretty pussy up with your cum. Be a good boy.” 

A shiver runs over Jaeyun’s body and his cock leaks at Sunghoon’s words, a desperate whimper escaping his throat as he trembles in anticipation. He’s been watching Sunghoon manhandle you so long that he’s scared about hurting you, your cunt is too sensitive to take him.

Opening your eyes, you see Jaeyun holding his cock with contemplation clouding his eyes. You sit up on your elbows, using whatever energy you have left and tilt your head. “Go as hard or fast as you want, baby doll, I can take it,” you assure him, beckoning him closer for a kiss.

Your words ignite a fire within Jaeyun, his desire overcoming his hesitation as he moves closer to you, his cock throbbing with need. He leans in, capturing your lips in a hungry kiss, his hands trembling with anticipation as he positions himself between your legs.

With renewed confidence, Jaeyun guides his cock into your heat, his breath catching in his throat as he pushes inside. The sensation is overwhelming, his cock enveloped in the warmth and tightness of your slick walls, driving him to the brink of ecstasy.

You moan into his mouth, encouraging him to go harder, faster, as you eagerly welcome him into your depths. Jaeyun's movements become more assertive, his hips rocking against yours with increasing urgency as he strives to give you the pleasure you deserve.

Sunghoon watches with rapt attention, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips as he observes Jaeyun messily bucking his hips into you, still cautious, but going at a speed that is perfect for you both. 

He can see the pleasure written all over your face, your moans filling the room as Jaeyun drives you closer to the edge of ecstasy. Sunghoon's smirk widens as he takes in the scene before him, revelling in the shared pleasure between you and Jaeyun.

With each thrust, Jaeyun's cock plunges deeper into you, eliciting a chorus of gasps and moans from both of you. Sunghoon's own arousal surges at the sight, his cock twitching with anticipation as he watches you both lose yourselves in the heat of the moment.

For Sunghoon, there's a sense of satisfaction in seeing Jaeyun take control, knowing that he's capable of pleasuring you just as effectively as he can. He understands that Jaeyun likes to be coddled and you also like to coddle him, but in situations like these, your satisfaction is the utmost importance.

If Sunghoon can’t leave with you, he a least wants to make sure you’re being fucked right.

As Jaeyun continues to thrust into you, Sunghoon leans in closer, his voice a low growl of desire. "That's it, Jaeyun. Show her how good you can make her feel," he murmurs, his words fueling Jaeyun's passion even further.

Jaeyun continues to thrust into you with growing confidence and Sunghoon's attention shifts to your stomach, where his cum still glistens on your skin like a badge of ownership. With a hungry look in his eyes, he dips down, his tongue trailing along your abdomen as he licks up his own essence.

You let out a gasp of surprise at the sensation, the warmth of his tongue sending shivers down your spine. Sunghoon's movements are deliberate and sensual, his tongue dancing across your skin as he savours the taste of himself mingled with your arousal still lingering in his mouth.

Jaeyun's thrusts falter for a moment as he watches Sunghoon's intimate ministrations, a flush spreading across his cheeks at the sight. But the sight of you writhing beneath them, lost in pleasure, reignites his passion, and he resumes his rhythm with renewed vigour.

Meanwhile, Sunghoon laps up his cum from your stomach with increasing urgency, each lick more fervent than the last. His movements are messy, driven by the desire to taste every last drop of himself mingled with your sweat and arousal. He's lost in the moment, completely consumed by the act of claiming you in this intimate way.

As he finishes, your stomach now clean, Sunghoon looks up at you with a wicked gleam in his eyes, his desire burning brightly. "Open your mouth," he murmurs, his voice thick with lust.

Your mind is hazy, overwhelmed by the sensations and unable to fully process his command. Sensing your confusion, Sunghoon's hand slides down your body, his fingers finding your clit and massaging it with expert precision. Your jaw slackens, a moan escaping your lips as you involuntarily obey his command, your mouth opening in response to the pleasure.

Taking advantage of your open mouth, Sunghoon leans in and captures your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue plunging into your mouth to share the mingled tastes of his cum and your arousal. The kiss is deep and demanding, a testament to the intensity of his desire for you.

Jaeyun, not wanting to be left out, quickens his pace, his thrusts becoming more forceful as he chases his own release. He groans into your ear, the sound vibrating through your body and heightening your pleasure.

Sunghoon finally pulls back from the kiss, his lips lingering close to yours. "That's it, baby girl," he whispers, his voice a seductive growl. "Take everything we give you."

You nod weakly, your body trembling with anticipation and need. The combined sensations of Jaeyun's cock driving into you and Sunghoon's commanding presence are almost too much to bear. You feel yourself hurtling toward another climax, your body tightening in anticipation.

Sensing your nearing orgasm, Jaeyun adjusts his angle, hitting that perfect spot inside you with each thrust. Sunghoon, not wanting to miss a moment, resumes his attention on your clit, his fingers working in tandem with Jaeyun's movements.

"Cum for us, Y/N," Sunghoon demands, his voice a low growl. "Show us how much you love being filled."

Your body obeys, your orgasm crashing over you with an intensity that leaves you breathless. You cry out their names, your voice a mixture of pleasure and desperation as you surrender to the overwhelming sensations. Your walls tighten around Jaeyun, triggering his own release as he spills into you with a loud groan.

Sunghoon watches with satisfaction, a proud smirk on his lips as he sees you both reach your peak. "Good girl," he murmurs, his fingers still gently stroking your clit as you come down from your high. "That's exactly what we wanted."

As you tremble in the aftermath of your intense orgasm, Jaeyun's moans in ragged gasps, his release still coursing through him. He slowly pulls out, his cum beginning to seep out of you. Without missing a beat, he uses his fingers to gently push his seed back inside, wanting to ensure you remain filled with him, just like you want.

Sunghoon watches Jaeyun's actions with a pleased smile, appreciating his attentiveness. "Good job, Jaeyun," he praises, his voice low and approving. "Now, go grab the water again. Our girl needs to stay hydrated."

Jaeyun nods, quickly getting up to retrieve the glass of water from the bedside table. As he does, Sunghoon turns his full attention back to you, his touch becoming tender and caring. He gently strokes your hair and brushes a few strands away from your face, his eyes softening with concern.

"How are you feeling, baby girl?" Sunghoon asks, his tone gentle, a stark contrast to his earlier intensity.

You manage a weak smile, your body still buzzing from the dual sensations of pleasure and exertion. "I’m...good," you breathe out, leaning into his touch.

Sunghoon's lips curve into a warm smile. "Good girl," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "Just relax. We’ll take care of you." He has always been good at aftercare, even when he was shut off from his emotions, it’s just who he is. He might fuck you within an inch of your life, but he will make sure to revive you after.

Jaeyun returns with the water, handing the glass to Sunghoon who carefully brings it to your lips. "Drink up," he instructs softly, his eyes locked on yours to ensure you’re okay.

You take small sips, the cool liquid soothing your parched throat. Once you’ve had your fill, Sunghoon sets the glass aside and wraps an arm around your shoulders, holding you close as Jaeyun takes a seat beside you, his hand resting on your thigh in a comforting gesture.

"Thank you," you whisper, your voice filled with gratitude.

Jaeyun nods, his eyes filled with affection. "Just rest for now. We’ve got you."

You nod, allowing yourself to relax fully between them, feeling safe and cherished. The intensity of the moment has passed, leaving behind a comforting warmth that envelops all three of you. You close your eyes, a contented smile on your lips, knowing that no matter what, they will always be there to care for you.

As long as you can convince a certain Prince of Hell.

_____

Feeling a comforting weight on your chest, you pry your eyes open to find Jaeyun's head nestled there, his legs entwined around your waist. No - Sunghoon’s legs wrapped around you. He lies beneath you, his shoulder supporting your head, his hand reaching around your neck to scratch Jaeyun's hair.

You can’t believe that this is your life right now, that you could truly be this happy every day for the rest of time. The warmth of their bodies, the thump of your heart echoing your happiness, and the tender connection between all three of you feels like a dream you never want to wake from. Every worry and stress melts away, replaced by a profound sense of contentment. In this moment, you know that this is where you belong, wrapped in the embrace of those you love most.

But as nice as this is, as easy as it is to get lost in their embrace, you know there's still one obstacle in your way to achieving this paradise forever.

Heeseung.

If he doesn’t let Sunghoon go, there's no point in getting your hopes up. This bliss you've found yourself in can be ripped away in an instant if he says no. However, you believe you've got an offer he can’t refuse. 

Sunghoon notices you stirring and presses his lips atop your head, kissing your crown tenderly. “Good morning, baby girl,” he whispers with such softness that it almost blends with the morning air.

Jaeyun looks up with his big eyes and smiles, then kisses a heart pattern on your chest, a ritual he has performed countless times since becoming yours. It’s his unique way of saying good morning and expressing his affection.

You kiss Jaeyun first, your lips lingering as you savour the softness of his petal-like lips. In all your life, you don’t think you will ever tire of the way his plump mouth encloses yours, each kiss a reminder of the deep connection you share.

Turning your head slightly, you find Sunghoon's eyes already gazing at you with a mix of adoration and warmth. You lean in and kiss him next, your lips meeting his in a tender embrace. His kiss is different from Jaeyun’s - firmer, yet filled with the same depth of love. Sunghoon's hand moves to cradle your face, his thumb gently caressing your cheek as your mouths move in perfect harmony.

“Did you sleep well?” Jaeyun asks, gently rubbing your arm as you pull away from his best friend.

You nod, sitting up between them as you all shuffle to find comfortable positions. Sunghoon keeps his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into him. There's a flicker of hurt in Jaeyun’s eyes as he watches the love of his life being embraced by someone else, a reminder that while sex might be easy to share, morning cuddles and other gestures of affection are something he'll need time to get used to.

“Yeah, it was amazing,” you say, smiling between both of them, grateful for the peaceful slumber and the two men who left you blissfully exhausted.

Jaeyun smiles warmly, his fingers gently brushing through your hair. “You look so pretty right now,” he whispers, a daily ritual of his to compliment you in the morning, even when your hair is tousled and some mascara smudges remain from the night before.

Kissing your neck, Sunghoon nods in agreement, “Always.”

God, you could get used to this. But to get used to this, you have to have it.

“I’m going to see if Soonyeol wants to make breakfast,” you say, using it as an excuse to leave the bed, knowing you can’t let them catch onto your true intentions. “If you guys stay here, I’ll be back in a bit, yeah?”

“We can make yo-”

“No, no. I want to spend some time with her, you know. She’s important to you, and I haven’t spoken to her much,” you interject with a touch of urgency in your voice, masking the true purpose behind your words. It’s a blatant lie, but the underlying intention is genuine; you just won’t act on it at this moment.

Slipping from their grip, you adorn Jaeyun’s t-shirt and Sunghoon's boxers that were hastily discarded last night, tying your hair up, and focus on getting what you want, on what is best for everyone.

_____

Standing apprehensively on the other side of the door, your fist hovers, refusing to knock. The heavy wooden door feels like a barrier not just to Heeseung but to the future you desperately want to secure. Your heart races, and you take a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. You’re scared, you’ll admit that—no amount of time or mental preparation could make this any less nerve-wracking. Every possible outcome runs through your mind, amplifying your anxiety.

But for Sunghoon, for you and Jaeyun, you’ll suck it up like you always do. You straighten your shoulders and square your jaw, determination settling over your features. Yes, you know what Heeseung can do and what he will ask for, but you can’t let him see any signs of weakness within you.

The sound of your knuckles against the wood echoes in the hallway, and you feel the weight of each passing second. 

“What?” Heeseung's voice pierces through the door, clearly annoyed by the disturbance; you would be too if someone knocked on your door at 6 am, regardless of whether you slept.

Taking a deep breath, you steady your nerves, feeling the weight of your decision. Despite the turmoil in your mind, you nod to yourself, trying to convince the part of you that's crying out, saying this is a bad idea. But determination drives you forward, pushing aside doubts as you prepare to face whatever comes next.

The door creaks slightly as it opens, revealing Heeseung sitting up against the headboard, the sheets tangled around him as though he had a restless night's sleep. The dishevelled state of the room hints that he had company, yet Soonyeol is nowhere in sight; but when he stands up and his naked form reaches your eyes, you can picture everything that went on; or maybe it’s flashbacks to your own rendezvous with the prince. Either way, you feel a rush of heat pooling between your thighs, your pussy weeping instinctively to the raw allure of his present state.

No matter how much you convince yourself that Heeseung has no hold over you anymore, your body proves you to be a liar.

“My pretty girl. Have you come to take me up on the offer finally?” Heeseung's voice carries a hint of amusement as he stares you down, a wicked grin painting his features. Despite the casualness of his words, there's an intensity in his gaze that sends a thrill down your spine. Even as he reaches to grab his boxers, his eyes never leave yours, holding you captive in their dark depths. You're ashamed to admit that your eyes don’t even meet his as you gawk at his delicious length, your body betraying your desire with each passing moment.

Heeseung notices your lustful gaze, a smirk playing on his lips as he pumps his cock gently. “So you came for this? I suppose I should have known Jaeyun could never satisfy you,” he says, his voice dripping with smugness as he voices his thoughts. His hand squeezes just before the bell of his cock, emphasising his arousal. “How do you want to take it? On your back or on your knees?”

On your ba-

“No. I didn’t come here for that,” you interject firmly, clamping down on the lascivious thoughts swirling in your head. As easy as it would be to surrender to the temptation, you know in your heart that giving in to him is the last thing you should do, no matter how much your body craves it. You shake off the filth from the crevices of your brain, steeling yourself against the allure of his naked form. The primal urge to submit to him lingers, a constant battle against the rational part of your mind that screams for restraint.

You wonder if it’s a general Prince of Hell thing or a Beelzebub thing that every time you come within 5 feet of him, you’re ready to open every hole you have. The thought makes you shiver, a mix of desire and frustration coursing through your veins as you struggle to maintain control.

Heeseung laughs darkly, withdrawing his hand from his shaft and returning to his original task of putting on his boxers. You feel a twinge of disappointment as he packs away his 7-inch friend, but you’re also relieved that you can now concentrate on the matter you came here for.

“So what did you come here for?” he asks, his voice now void of the earlier taunts, as he walks around the end of his bed to stand a meter from you. His demeanour shifts, becoming more attentive and serious, knowing that this is probably worth his time.

“I have a counteroffer,” you proclaim, the tremble in your voice betraying the weight of your proposition.

Heeseung smirks, his eyebrows raising in surprise. “Oh? And what’s that, baby?”

“I want you to let Sunghoon leave with me and Jaeyun today,” you declare, the words hanging in the air as you wait for his response, your heart pounding in your chest.

Heeseung's smirk widens into a mocking laugh, disbelief evident in his expression. The sound echoes in the room, taunting you as if your request is nothing more than a joke. His amusement seems to fill the space, making the air feel heavier with each passing moment.

But you stand your ground, refusing to back down despite his dismissive reaction. Every fibre of your being is focused on this moment, on this plea that could change everything. Though uncertainty gnaws at you, you push it aside, determined to see this through. 

"I'm serious," you insist, your voice firm despite the ripple of anxiety that lingers beneath the surface. Your words twirl in the air, a silent challenge to his disbelief.

Heeseung's laughter fades, replaced by a cold, calculating gaze as he regards you. The intensity of his stare feels like a physical weight, bearing down on you as if searching for any hint of weakness. You meet his gaze head-on, refusing to falter under the pressure.

“I already gave you Jaeyun, baby. I hope you’re not taking my kindness for granted?” Heeseung's voice carries a note of warning, his words a reminder of the favour he believes he's already bestowed upon you.

You feel a chill run down your spine at his tone, a subtle threat lingering in the room. It's a stark reminder of the power he holds over you, a reminder that even in this moment of negotiation, you are still at his mercy.

Clearing your throat, you nod, meeting Heeseung's gaze with sincerity. “I don’t take it for granted,” you begin, your voice steady despite the nerves, “You know I appreciate it.” 

It can never hurt to suck up to a demon and agree with him when you need something from him.

Sucking his teeth, Heeseung hums in acknowledgement of your statement, clearly satisfied with your rebuttal. It's a small concession, but it feels like a victory nonetheless. You exhale slowly, feeling a sense of relief wash over you, but it only lasts a moment because his eyes are back to swirling that red ocean in his stare. He knows now that you didn’t come here empty-handed.

However, before he asks you the inevitable question, he wants to settle his curiosity. “Why Sunghoon when you could stay here and have all of us? You had so much fun here, didn’t you?”

You did, you had the most fun you’ve had your whole life, but that was also when you had no real life back in the city. Now you have Jaeyun with you, and things are different. You wake up happy and you suddenly love the life around you because Jaeyun has a way of painting everything golden even when the skies are grey.

“Because this isn’t about me, this is about Sunghoon,” you admit, sensing Heeseung's curiosity. He gestures for you to explain your thoughts, clearly amused by your confession. “I just think, respectfully to Soonyeol, that he just isn’t… thriving here.”

"You mean because Soonyeol isn't fucking him like a banshee?" Heeseung interjects, his tone laced with sarcasm as he cuts straight to the point.

You flinch at his blunt words, a mixture of shock and discomfort washing over you. Heeseung's crude remark hits a nerve, stirring a mix of emotions within you. 

Sure, that is part of the reasoning in some sense. Sunghoon enjoys having sex, that much is obvious considering he has fucked you in almost every available room in this place, against every nook and cranny he could find, and in every which position he could bend you. Yet, it’s more than that.

He needs to explore his newly found emotions in an environment that will help him express his innermost thoughts and feelings. In this mansion with the same people and the same routine, it can be damaging to some people, and clearly, it is to him. He’s also incredibly lonely, and in a house with three other bodies shouldn’t be the case.

Heeseung’s sigh draws your attention, prompting you to lift your eyes to meet his. “Tell me something, and please, for the love of Lucifer, engage that stupid little brain of yours for once,” he says with a sly grin, though mock disappointment flickers in his gaze. 

Despite his harshness, you feel yourself strangely pulled to him, a tinge of pleasure building within. You blame Jongseong and his punishments for awakening this new love for degradation. 

“Don’t you think it’s irresponsible to let a demon loose in the wild? He is evil and destructive, I mean, you heard how he defied Dis because he hated being told what to do. What if you suffer the same fate, baby?” He feigns concern, using his warped words to make you think differently about Sunghoon and just be trapped in this house with him. 

You’ve caught onto his game and you refuse to play.

“Sunghoon is dif-”

“Don’t say he is different, Y/N. Every red-horned prick is the same, trust me, I am one,” Heeseung scoffs, his tone filled with bitter amusement at your innocent viewpoint on the matter. “We are monstrous and manipulative, it’s our job, and as far as I know, Sunghoon was one of the best. Did he ever tell you about the time he skinned that poor woman alive? Right down to her bones, and all he was ordered to do was snap her neck.”

The words hang in the air, heavy with the weight of Heeseung's revelation. You feel a chill run down your spine at the gruesome image he paints, the reality of Sunghoon's past deeds hitting you like a punch to the gut. 

But you know that whoever that was, wasn’t the Sunghoon you saw last night. He did what he had to in order to survive hell’s grip. You know his past is never going to be pretty, and you understand that. Whatever he’s done, whoever he has hurt, it’s in the past, and he's seeking redemption. And if he can't find it from God, he can get it from you.

Crossing your arms, you shift your body language as you guard yourself from Heeseung’s foul plays. “If he is such a threat to humans and as you call it ‘evil and destructive’, why keep him around Soonyeol?”

Heeseung doesn’t expect you to throw such a question at him, his face falling. “Because I can kill him if I need to and he knows that,” he explains, eyes secretly warning you to not push him too far. “But you, precious little you, you wouldn’t hurt one of my flies, he could take advantage of that.” he feigns sincerity, holding a hand over his nonexistent heart.

He speaks about Sunghoon being a manipulator but you’re staring at the master. Heeseung is using condescending tones and sympathetic body language to get you to trust him, a classic Beelzebub manoeuvre.

Returning to your flat those months ago, the weight of your encounter with Heeseung heavy on your mind, you wasted no time delving into research about the demon. The mere mention of his true name sent chills down your spine, and you were determined to uncover the truth behind his dark reputation.

You learned that Beelzebub is a master manipulator, skilled in the art of gaslighting his victims. He preys on their vulnerabilities, convincing them that his offers are the only solution to their problems. With each twisted lie, he tightens his grip on their minds, rendering them helpless to resist his control.

Your knowledge might not be extensive, but you've gained insight into his tactics, leaving you feeling more prepared to confront him, even if you're relying heavily on feigned confidence. After spending two months in close quarters with him, you've gleaned enough to believe that if anyone can outmanoeuvre this Prince of Hell, it's you.

“You said you don’t break promises,” you assert, redirecting the conversation to the purpose of your visit.

“And what promise have I made to you, baby?” he questions, a smirk playing on his lips.

“None yet, but once I give you something, you have to keep your promise.”

His eyebrow arches in intrigue, his manner shifting as he leans forward, assessing you with renewed interest. “You’re going to have to offer more than just your pretty little pussy for me to grant you Sunghoon.”

Of course, you're aware that indulging his desires likely played a significant role in his decision to allow Jaeyun to accompany you home last time. You understand that it will take something substantial, something unique to you, to strike a deal with him. Sunghoon might not be Soonyeol’s top priority as of late but he still offers her something she needs and Heeseung isn’t going to let that up easily.

“My soul. Take it.”

A heavy silence settles in the air, thick with tension as you lay out your offer. Your gut churns with unease, a nagging sensation urging you to retract your proposition and flee from the impending consequences. Meanwhile, the voice of your beloved Jaeyun echoes in your mind, pleading with you to abandon the deal and escape this precarious situation with a quick "sike," finger-gunning your way out of harm's reach.

Yet, despite the turmoil raging within you, you remain resolute. You've made your decision, and you're determined to see it through, even if it means silencing Jaeyun's protests and disregarding the warnings of your own instincts. It may seem foolish to press forward, but your love for Sunghoon eclipses any doubts or fears.

For you, this is more than just a risky gamble—it's a chance to offer Sunghoon a lifeline, a path to the freedom and happiness he so desperately craves. And if you didn't seize this opportunity, if you didn't at least try to give him a shot at a better life by your side, how could you ever live with yourself?

Heeseung steps forward, his movements sleek and predatory. “You would give me your soul for a demon’s freedom? I know I fucked you good, but I didn’t know I fucked you dumb,” he taunts, his eyes gleaming with a sinister red hue as Beelzebub comes to the forefront.

A chill runs down your spine as he speaks, his mocking tone cutting through the air like a knife. You feel a knot of fear tighten in your chest, but before you can react, he flicks his finger with a casual gesture and the door behind you clicks shut, the sound echoing ominously in the silence of the room. Your heart skips a beat as panic floods your senses, realisation dawning that you're now trapped, alone with a demon whom you’ve just offered your soul.

You’ve had calmer Sundays, that’s for sure.

Your voice quivers slightly as you press forward, determination warring with the creeping sense of dread. "I'm serious. Tell me your terms. Ten years? Twenty? When will you claim it from me if I do this?" you ask, though the strength in your tone wavers as Heeseung looms closer, his presence suffocatingly familiar, much like yesterday.

A sharp, disbelieving laugh escapes Heeseung's lips, shaking his head in amusement. “Baby, you think you have it all figured out,” he mocks, stepping even closer, if that's even possible. Your instinct to create some distance is rendered powerless as you stay transfixed in place, his proximity overwhelming.

His chest presses against yours, the closeness sending a shiver down your spine as if you're seconds away from dancing a lover's tango. “I’ll tell you what will happen, and I’ll let you make the final call, since I’m in a good mood,” he adds, his voice dripping with a sinister charm.

You swallow hard, steeling yourself for whatever he's about to reveal, knowing that your fate - and Sunghoon's - hangs in the balance.

"Here's the deal," Heeseung begins, his tone laced with a predatory edge. "I'll grant Sunghoon his freedom, no strings attached to me or Soonyeol," he begins, his words initially sounding like a lifeline, but the following conditions twist your stomach into knots. "But you surrender yourself to me.”

Your breath catches in your throat as you struggle to process the weight of his demand. The tension in the air is palpable, suffocating you as you grapple with the impossible choice before you.

"Good news is, your soul stays in your body, but that body? Oh, Sweetheart, that belongs to me," Heeseung continues, his voice dripping with malevolent satisfaction.

“But-”

"Don’t fucking interrupt me," he commands, his voice lowering to a menacing octave.

Mumbling a quick apology, you bite down on your lip, forcing yourself to remain silent, lest you incur his wrath further.

Heeseung's terms hang heavy in the air, the weight of his expectations pressing down on you like a suffocating blanket. "You do as I say. If I say jump, you ask how high. If I say to kill someone, you do it and thank me for the opportunity. I’m not being cruel, these are my terms for everyone."

That means Soonyeol too. It makes you wonder what on earth he has made her do while she has been under his control. Perhaps that two-month trip was more sadistic than you once thought.

The reality of the situation sinks in, and you realise that agreeing to his terms means surrendering not only your freedom but your very humanity. It's a choice that no amount of love for Sunghoon can make easy.

You draw in a shaky breath, steeling yourself for his response. "How long for?" you inquire, your voice barely above a whisper, knowing deep down that the answer may haunt you for eternity.

"Forever. Even after you die, you’re mine," Heeseung replies, his tone carrying a weight of finality that sends a chill down your spine.

The reality of the situation crashes over you like a tidal wave, threatening to pull you under. The prospect of being forever tethered to Heeseung, subject to his whims and desires for all eternity, fills you with a sense of dread and despair. And yet, despite the overwhelming fear and uncertainty, there's a perverse allure to his offer. The magnetic pull he has on you, the intoxicating blend of danger and desire, whispers seductively in the depths of your mind. It's a dark and twisted fascination, one that you can't seem to shake no matter how hard you try. 

Your heart pounds in your chest as you gather your courage and issue your counterproposal, determined to protect the ones you love from the potentially devastating consequences of your agreement. "If I say yes, you need to promise me that whatever you instruct me to do won’t hurt the people I love," you assert, your voice trembling slightly with the weight of your request.

The audacity of your bargaining with a Prince of Hell is not lost on you. It's a bold move, one born out of desperation and fueled by a newfound determination to safeguard those closest to your heart. You can't help but marvel at your own bravery, even as uncertainty gnaws at the edges of your resolve, considering the closest you’ve seen to a haggle is two ladies trying to buy a bronze teapot on Bargain Hunt, you’d say this was a little out of your comfort zone.

Heeseung considers your proposal, his gaze flickering as he weighs the implications of your condition. A slow, satisfied smile spreads across his face as he pieces your words together, “Oh… Oh, you’re good, baby,” he begins, a chuckle escaping his lips before he continues, “Asking me to not hurt your loved ones so then I can’t touch you or the two Bratz dolls. You are not as dumb as I pegged you to be earlier.”

His words send a shiver down your spine, a mixture of fear and perverse satisfaction swirling in the pit of your stomach. As he leans closer, his lips dangerously close to yours, “Fucking hell, you turn me on.” You can't help but feel a surge of adrenaline at his words and the realisation that you may have just outmanoeuvred a Prince of Hell. It's a dangerous game you're playing, but at this moment, it feels like the only option you have.

“So deal?”

Jaeyun’s voice floods your ears like a bad case of tinnitus, his shrieks bouncing inside your skull. But he is not here in your presence like last time, he can’t save you from Heeseung this time.

“Deal.”

_____

You walk back into the room to find Jaeyun and Sunghoon sitting on the edge of the bed, engrossed in a heated game on Jaeyun's Switch. Jaeyun's brow is furrowed in concentration, his thumbs moving rapidly across the buttons, while Sunghoon, surprisingly adept for a first-timer, wears a smug grin.

"How are you this good?" Jaeyun mutters, frustration seeping into his voice as Sunghoon wins yet another round.

Sunghoon chuckles, his pride evident. "Beginner's luck, I guess."

Watching them, you feel a warm sense of contentment. You think about what your life will be like with the two of them. There's a simplicity to the way they interact, a normalcy that almost makes you forget the supernatural forces that bind you all together.

Jaeyun, with his easy-going nature and inherent kindness, has always been your rock. His innocence is something you cherish deeply. On the other hand, Sunghoon, with his intensity and passion, brings out a side of you that's fierce and unapologetic. The thought of balancing these two very different but complementary forces fills you with a sense of adventure and anticipation.

Should you tell them that it was Heeseung you spoke with? Sunghoon would surely know you had to make some sacrifice to get Heeseung to agree. Jaeyun doesn't know about Heeseung's true identity or the lengths you went to ensure your collective happiness. The thought of deceiving them, even for their own good, weighs heavily on your conscience.

As you step into the room, they look up, pausing their game. "Where did you go?" Sunghoon asks, his eyes narrowing slightly with curiosity. You said you were going to make breakfast with Soonyeol, but you were away for a long time, too long for that matter.

"Just a walk," you replied, climbing into the bed between them. Their warmth enveloped you from both sides, a comforting presence amidst your swirling thoughts. You savored the feeling for a moment, then turned to Sunghoon. "Are you okay with car journeys?" you asked, trying to sound nonchalant, though your heart pounded in your chest.

"I think so," Sunghoon replied, a hint of confusion lacing his voice. "Why?"

"Because it's a long drive back to the city," you said, your voice steady despite the nervous energy bubbling inside you. What if he changed his mind and you’ve just sold your soul to Beelzebub?

Sunghoon's eyes widened as he processed your words. "You mean...?" he trailed off, disbelief and hope mingling in his expression.

You nodded, a grin spreading across your face. "Yes. You're coming with us."

Sunghoon's expression morphed into one of pure elation. "How did you...? Did you speak to Heeseung?" His question hung in the air, heavy with implications.

You forced a smile, praying your lie would be convincing. "Actually, I spoke to Soonyeol. But anyway, what matters is that you're coming with us." You deflected any more questions, shaking your head to signal you didn't want to delve into the details.

Sunghoon leaned in and kissed you softly, the affection in his touch making your heart swell. His lips were tender against yours, a stark contrast to the raw intensity you often shared. It amazed you how a demon could feel so deeply that he almost seemed human.

Jaeyun, not wanting to be left out, pouted and tossed his controller aside. He scrambled over, a wide smile on his face, and wrapped his arms around both of you. "My two favourite people!" he exclaimed, his voice brimming with joy as he squeezed you both tightly.

You revelled in the embrace, feeling Jaeyun's hug against your side and Sunghoon's steady warmth pressing into you. This moment, this tender connection, was everything you had fought for. 

As you lay there between them, you wondered how your life would change. The future seemed both daunting and exhilarating. You imagined the three of you navigating the complexities of your relationships, finding joy in the simple moments, and facing the inevitable challenges together. Could you balance the love and care they both needed? Would they understand the compromises you had to make to keep you all together?

Sunghoon pulled back slightly, his eyes searching for yours. "Are you sure you're okay? You really didn’t speak to Heeseung?" he asked, his voice soft and filled with concern. His worry is that you did something rash, something to put your life at risk.

You nodded, the sincerity in his gaze making your chest tighten with emotion because you know you're lying to him. “No I didn’t. I just asked Soonyeol to convince him."

Sunghoon's smile widened as he accepts your lie as the truth, and he kissed you again. Jaeyun, not to be outdone, leaned in and pressed his lips to your cheek. "I'm so glad we're all going back together," he murmured.

The three of you stayed entwined for a while, the silence filled with unspoken promises and the steady rhythm of your breathing. Eventually, Sunghoon and Jaeyun begin to get up to start packing, leaving you to your thoughts.

Your life was about to become a whirlwind of new experiences, challenges, and unknowns. Yet, despite the looming uncertainty, a thrill of excitement coursed through you. Your life was about to become a living hell, but as you watched the two boys move around the room, your heart swelled with a sense of anticipation. 

taglist: @nshmrarki @kgneptun @addictedtohobi @parksunghoonsgf @chaewonshoney @chiiiiiiiiis @lilyuwon @rayofsunshineeee @moon7jay @erehkinnie30 @brownsugarbaybee @minniejenseo @woninluv @jaysluvs @fakeuwus @capri-cuntz @ash024 @who-tf-soddhi @bambangan @vousty @heeseungspookie @alvojake @yorukoshii @haechonly @riftanswhore @emi-en @branchrkive @featjunranghae @thejjrl @nyxtwixx @sunghoonnsupremacy @nctislifue @itsnikitty @enhypenlovre

Maybe, just maybe, it was a hell worth living for.

[writing-fanics]

don’t mess with the devil ii

Part I final

Chapter ii: Home is with you

[warning: mentions of sex]

Lucifer Morningstar x human!Reader

Y/n

Y/n?

Sweetie?

The smell of chemicals wafted through your nose, and the occasional beeps that sounded like a heartbeat monitor? You groaned, and your vision still blurry. “L-Lu?..” Your voice hoarse, but the voice didn’t respond.

“It’s me mom.” The voice said, causing you to sit up quickly in response. “Whoa, slow down.” Your mother, said placing a hand on your back. “I-I’m back..” You whispered, and your mother looked at you worriedly. She gently rubbed your hand, “Yes you’re. Thank Heavens.” She said, planting a kiss on the side of your head.

You sat there and said nothing, staring blankly at the blanket. Processing everything, you were no longer in Hell. No longer with Lucifer. You were back home on Earth with your mother. Like you always wanted right? Then why did you feel so cold? So empty?

You felt as if a piece of you was missing. Like you were missing your other half. Your Lucifer. You missed his warmth, his smile, and his goofy personality at times. He always found a way to make you smile whenever you were feeling down, and you would return that sentiment.

You didn’t tell him you loved him yet, he’s told you. But he respected that you might not be ready to saw it yet. He understood completely, once you explained it to him. Having told him about your bad relationships in the past. Now, that all seemed to end right now. You were never going to see him again.

“Y/n, oh sweetie you look pale.” Your mother said, snapping you out of your thoughts. As she placed her hand on your forehead. “I’ll be right back.” She said, and you assumed she left to get the doctor. You frowned, as you laid back down in the hospital bed. The hospital gown fabric scratchy, and the sound of the heart monitor made you sick.

You laid on your side, back towards the door. Your stomach grumbled, but you didn’t feel like eating anything. Laying in the single bed made you, the king sized bed you shared with the king of hell.

The satin sheets and the comfortable bed. Mainly you missed, laying in bed with him cuddling or just laying there to relax. Or of course doing the ol devils tango. You missed the smell of the caramel apple candle that filled the bedroom. The smell of freshly baked apple by on Saturday mornings.

Tears trickled down your cheeks, as you hid your head into your pillow. As much as you were happy to be back home, seeing your mom again. Somehow, what was once home no longer felt like it.

You opened your closed hand to reveal, a golden ring with wing like textures engraved into it. Tears welled up in your eyes, as you were filled with so much regret.

“I should’ve told him..” you sniffled, as you closed your hand again. Hiding your face into your pillow once again. “How much I love him.” You whimpered, as you sobbed.

back in hell

Weeks later

Lucifer sighed, as he leaned forward onto his desk. His eyes wandered towards the framed picture on his desk, of you and him at Lu Lu World. “This is way better than Disney!” He remembered you said, after which you showed him pictures. He knew of another park called ‘Hellsney’.

You had faded away from his hands, and a part of him knew you were going back to the living world. He felt it when part of his magic he shared with you, returned to him. He didn’t even get to say goodbye, tell you how much he loved you before you faded away in his arms.

At least, he knew you were much sadder up there than here. He couldn’t bear the site of your beaten and battered body. Adam was lucky that Charlie was there to keep him, from killing him.

Lucifer stared down at Adam, as he held Charlie in his arms. His voice distorted and demonic. “You come at me my daughter and my partner!” said Lucifer, as his daughter stepped down onto the ground.

He lunged towards Adam, and stood over him. Eyes red glowing filled with rage, “Don’t forget your in my house now bitch!” He laughed, demonically as he threw punch after punch. With the intent to kill. You don’t mess with the devil or his family.

He’s going to miss that smile of yours, that infectious laughter. Your voice, and your delicious cooking that rivaled his. He never thought he’d find love again after, Lilith left. Yet, here you come in six years later. A human no doubt ending up in hell so suddenly, and he fell in love with you.

Now, you left too. Not by choice but you were gone as well. He was still recovering from Lilith leaving him while the two of you, were still in a relationship. You told him that you understood, being together for as long as they did you understood.

You being there with him helped seemed to heal that wound. Then fixing his relationship with his daughter helped too. But now that wound in his heart, seemed to open back up. Hells, he loved you god so fucking much. You were special there was something about you, maybe the two of you were soulmates.

A silly thing to think but it could be possible?

He reached towards the photo, and stared at it longingly. You had a goofy smile on your face.

He remembered that day, after that photo was taken. A hellbird flew down, and stole his caramel apple. You gave yours to him, and the two of you shared it.

God he was going to miss you..

“Come on.” A distorted voice said, he turned around in his chair. “Who’s there?!” He called out, but saw nothing. Was it all in his head. He could’ve sworn that voice sounded familiar.

“Lu!” A voice called out, a faint yellow glow as if a portal trying to manifest itself appeared behind him. He didn’t notice a hand reaching out to touch him, through the tiny hole.

He thought it must’ve been that Alastor, pulling some sick twisted prank on him. But he could’ve sworn, he felt a little bit of his magic leave him.. That could only mean..

Taglist: @96jnie

[highvern]

adamas et aurum

Pairing: Kim Mingyu x reader

Genre: fluff

Warnings: gross domestic fluff, boyfriend mingyu

Length: ~1.7k

Note: more Drunk Goggles couple bc im beating a dead horse. idk why i do this to myself :) crying :) in :) the :) club :)

read more here

“You owe me a kiss.”

“Oh, do I?”

Mingyu huffs, face covered in sweat, backwards hat matting his hair to his skull, bare chest rose-colored from the fiery sun and swampy humidity. You’ve both spent all morning moving boxes to and fro so he’s about two seconds away from laying down on the floor for a much needed nap. When it came to heavier stuff, Mingyu insisted you stay and start unpacking the necessities so the apartment would at least be somewhat functional around all the mess. He didn’t have the heart to tell you that his shredded patience couldn’t handle any more of your help. Thank god some of the guys are coming over tomorrow to help him with the furniture.

Because of his chivalry, you’ve stayed cool in the AC, humming to the music blasting from a speaker in the kitchen as you work to make the new space a home. All the while Mingyu slaves away to lug in stuff he doesn’t remember either of you owning. 

“Boyfriend tax.”

“Ahhhh,” you nod. 

Jumping up on your toes, you deliver a cartoonishly wet smack on his lips as a thank you for his hard word.

“How’s it going?”

“Bathroom is mostly unpacked but we need to get some bins to organize under the sink. Oh! And the beds made too!” You chirp, turning back to your task of wiping out the cabinets and drawers of your new kitchen. “If you wanna wash up and lay down, I’ll order something to eat.”

“You’re the best.” he sighs, stepping into the space behind you, chest against your back, face tucked into the curve of your shoulder, hands grasping the edge of the counter on each side of your hips. 

“My man works hard, gotta take care of him.” You praise, twisting your neck to drop a kiss to his temple causing you to get a whiff of his sweat.

“Now go shower, you stink.” 

“Hey!” Mingyu objects, face moving over your shoulder so he can look at you. “I’m sorry I’ve been roleplaying as your hot shirtless mover for the last two hours. Bust my butt and this is how you thank me?”

Turning to face him, you tangle your arms around his neck, linking your hands behind his head and pulling him into a bear hug. His palms slide around the sensitive skin of your back, pulling you closer as your shirt sticks to his sweaty chest uncomfortably where you press together. But that doesn’t matter right now. Right now, you’re together, in the new apartment you share, starting the next chapter of your lives.

“Thank you, Mingyu. I love you.” You whisper into his collarbone.

“Damn right.” He mumbles, tilting his head down to drop a sweet peck to your mouth, arms giving a tight squeeze before swatting at your ass as he turns towards the bedroom.

“Hey!”

“Boyfriend tax!” He calls over his shoulder, amusement bubbling in his voice.

Your eyes trail after him, heart swelling as it begins to fully register what you’ve done. He’s here and his name is on the lease next to yours; your matching keys hanging by the door, assigned parking spots downstairs next to each other. Mingyu just went into your shared bedroom, to take a shower in your shared bathroom, and tonight you’ll curl up beside him in your shared bed.

Wonwoo moving in with his girlfriend has been the catalyst for the much needed conversation. Mingyu had essentially been living out of your apartment for months already, only returning to his own place every few days for fresh clothes or to see his friend. When his roommate told him he was planning to move out after their lease ended in four months you simply scoffed at his distress about where to live. 

“You basically live with me anyway.” You mumbled, not thinking about what the statement implied.

“I—,” he gapes. “Are you asking me to move in with you?”

“I just mean, you already stay here so much anyway.” You grumble, suddenly feeling awkward in his hold.

“Can you just ask me nicely?” He whines. “I wanna be romanced.”

Humoring him, you slide to the floor in front of the couch you two had been draped across. Dropping to one knee, you cup your hands together in a makeshift box like you’re proposing. Your eyes round and brows raise, attempting and failing to give him an earnest expression.

“Kim Mingyu, love of my life, future father of my children, bane of my existence. Will you do me the honor of moving in with me?”

“Bain of your existence?”

“Focus.” You snap your fingers. “Will you move in with me?”

“Duh,” he beams, tackling you to the ground and snaring you in a bear hug as you squeal in delight.

Your friends had warned you about signing a lease together; that no matter how many nights Mingyu stays at your apartment (twenty three in a row is his record), when you call the same place home things will be different. And all of his bad habits won’t change just because he’s living with his girlfriend. If anything they may get worse because it's his home now too and he’s no longer a long staying guest.

You already knew that Mingyu tends to leave the seat up after using the bathroom, and will collapse with laughter if you fall in; that he insists on burying his cold feet under your butt when sitting on the couch, occasionally wiggling his toes just to piss you off; and how he will put the carton of milk back in the fridge even if there's only a drop left no matter how many threats against his person you make.

But Mingyu also sets his alarm ten minutes earlier than needed so he can hold you in bed before starting the day, basking in each others drowsy warmth before braving the world outside the sheets; he frequently insists you sit between his legs on the floor and let him dry your hair after you shower, gently combing his fingers through it, sometimes twisting the locks into messy braids or buns with his clumsy hands; how he’ll surprise you with a candle light dinner, insisting you both dress up even though your sitting at the kitchen table on a Tuesday eating reheated leftovers, just because he can.

No matter how annoying his bad habits are, the good ones are worth their weight and more in gold.

A shockingly girlish shriek shatters your daydream.

Hightailing it to the bathroom, you spot your stark naked boyfriend through the plastic of the shower liner, quivering in the corner of the stall like a leaf blowing in the wind. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Its fucking hot!” He cries, over his shoulder, trying to shield his body from the spray by curling into the tiled wall.

Heaving a sigh of relief and annoyance, you can’t help rolling your eyes as you step towards the front of the tub and twist the faucet, adjusting to a cooler temperature for him so he doesn’t have to stick his arm through the scalding rain.

“Big baby,” you grumble before heading back to the kitchen.

“I heard that!”

“You were supposed to!”

-

Mingyu shuffles into the bedroom, towel draped low on his waist, beads of water falling from his hair to his collarbone as he looks for the duffle bag he packed with clothes for the next few days; but the scene before him stops him in his tracks. The sun from the window casts the room in a buttery yellow, beams of light dappling your figure sprawled on the bed, mouth open slightly and hair a mess around your face. He leans a shoulder against the door frame, tired eyes full of love and mouth lifted in a gentle smile as his soulmate snores quietly a few feet away.

When you asked if he wanted to move in together, Mingyu lacked the self control needed to stop from jumping up and screeching like a kid in a candy store. The thought of living with his favorite person in the world had his heart tremble and his palms sweat. Despite all the oddities and quirks he learned about you in the past two years of dating, almost everyone warned him that you can’t really know someone till you live with them. He thinks the months before today had prepared him for the inevitable annoyances you two would face.

He’s accepted that you leave hair on the walls of the shower that eventually clog the drain, pooling water around his feet when he hops in the stall before work; how you push around takeout boxes and spoiled produce in the fridge for days instead of throwing them out; and that piles of unfolded laundry will sit on the edge of the couch for days on end until one day the planets align and you decide to re-organize your entire closet after folding the wrinkle garments.

Mingyu accepts all of those things because he also knows you like to surprise him by grabbing all the ingredients for a recipe he mentions wanting to try in passing, happily volunteering to be his sous chef and taste tester, insisting you both don the couple aprons his mom got you for Christmas; that when he isn’t feeling well you’ll scratch his back until he falls asleep with his cheek squished on your stomach while you fret over him; how you always wait up for him when he gets ready for bed, glazed eyes opening every few minutes to blink lazily, soft breath tickling the skin between his shoulder blades where your head lays only interrupted by an occasional sleepy kiss on his spine while he brushes his teeth.

His friends mentioned all the ways moving in together will change the way you see each other. But in the two years you’ve been dating, each time your relationship changed it's been for the better. When you two started hanging out on your own and he found his opinion on you shifting completely. When you admitted you liked each other and he learned you were a lot braver than he was. When you two fought for the first time and he realized that as brave as you were, you weren’t invincible. When he said he loved you for the first time by accident and discovered you were just as in this as he was. All the fights that challenged you to understand each other better, the struggles that strained your ability to take care of one another; all of it had changed your relationship but pressure makes a diamond.

A lot like the one he plans to give you when he asks if you want to change your relationship again one day.

[devildom-moss]

idk how to verbalise this idea properly so bear with me but: mc whose entire logic in life is 'fuck it we ball' including when it comes to romance, so they just completely go along with any attempts at flirting in a sort of "yes, and-" fashion

which probably only encourages said suitor and then mc has the Audacity to be surprised when it gets intense enough for them to realise they're actually being seduced lol

gn mc with just the brothers for now pls!! thank u for your services

Hopefully this request is what you were looking for. Honestly, I had a bit of confusion while writing, but I tried. I went with headcanons because that seemed like the best fit. Thanks for the request.

gn!MC who casually flirts back with the demon brothers headcanons

(and then has the audacity to be surprised that they're being genuinely pursued)

(Suggestive)

Word Count: +2700

Lucifer

Lucifer is an awful flirt, trying so hard to fluster MC and convince them of his dominance. (Where’s it at though? I don’t see it.) His flirting is so suggestive that it’s actually pretty easy to just assume it’s a bit of playful teasing between friends.

For MC, it plays out like those posts that say something and then escalate immediately – something like “Kiss your homies goodnight. Kiss them with tongue. Eat their ass.”

Having an MC who flirts back with him can be a bit embarrassing, and it gets Lucifer’s hopes up so much. (“Could you pour me another cup of coffee, MC?” “Third one this morning, Luci. Not sleeping well?” “I’m afraid not. Perhaps you should come over and help – but then again, we might not get much sleep if you do.” “Aw, Luci, do you want me to fuck you senseless to help you fall asleep?” “If you’re offering, who am I to refuse.”)

He’ll be frustrated that MC keeps flirting with him, but they never follow through.

Lucifer is so horny that it’s absurd. MC could be completely normal, and this man would be thirsting. (“I really don’t want to do this lesson. This chapter is so boring.” “Normally, I wouldn’t use positive reinforcement, but if you complete your work, I’ll reward you.” “What kind of reward?” “Come to my room tonight and find out.”)

Poor MC doesn’t realize they’re being seduced until Lucifer has dragged them into his bed.

“Sleep with me.” “I’m not really tired, Lucifer.” “Good. Then you’ll have plenty of energy to make out and maybe even fuck me – if you want.” His touch would be so intimate – rubbing their inner thigh or groping their ass. “IF I WHAT?!?”

Lucifer would turn pink up to his ears. Part of him thinks MC is just teasing him again, but he would quickly realize that they’re being genuine. He’d feel absolutely humiliated. Did they not want him at all? Did all of that flirting mean nothing?

Before he could die from the shame, Lucifer would manage to blurt out, “Do you want me or not?” He wants some honest commitment in return for his affection, and if MC won’t bring that, that’s unacceptable. Of course, there is some thrill in a chase, but in that moment, Lucifer won’t have it in him. It would be a battle to fight some other day.

If MC tells him no or gives a half-hearted response, he will ask them to leave his room with one hand covering his blushing face. He wouldn’t even be able to look at them as he closed the door – and he’d probably avoid them for a day or two. (Also, he might cry a little after the door is locked).

If MC insists that they do want him, he’ll be especially needy while also acting all sadistic – attempting to tease them to distract from his own embarrassment. This poor loser will require so many kisses to reinflate his ego.

Mammon

To be fair, Mammon would bring this upon himself. He loves to act like he’s uninterested – constantly interrupting his fawning and puppy-like following of MC to save himself from the absolute humiliation of being *gasp* honest about his feelings.

I can see Mammon regularly initiating flirting, but this man can’t follow through to save his own life (maybe to save the life of someone else, though). An MC who reciprocates his flirting would leave him a blushing, flustered mess. Most of the time, his embarrassment cuts the interaction short.

“Ya just can’t get enough of the Great Mammon, can ya?” “Of course not, you handsome devil~” “I- uh! Hmph! Damn right!” he’d say it, crossing his arms and avoiding eye contact while the blush rises in his cheeks. How is MC supposed to respond?

If they tease him further and flirt more, he’ll just yell and tell them to knock it off. If they just shrug it off and move on, Mammon will be too flustered to make another move on them that day. The flirtatious spark just kind of fizzles out like a defective firecracker.

It takes a lot of boldness on Mammon’s end to get MC to realize he’s being serious. And honestly, Mammon is so adorable, MC may have the opportunity to take the initiative and push things a little further first. (You want to tell me most MCs could just flirt with Mammon, reducing him to a blushing, aggressive mess, and go back to watching that movie or playing that video game upon Mammon’s belligerent demand, and not want to kiss his face? Okay, sure.)

But let’s ignore that thought and say MC follows Mammon’s flirting in the “yes, and” fashion. After Mammon continuously sabotages his own chances, eventually, he’s going to get so frustrated that he will smother his own shyness long enough to get what he wants.

He’ll get MC alone and string together some make-shift confession – a plea for more. “Ya know, if ya wanna kiss the Great Mammon or somethin’, I’m not gonna stop ya – like, I mean, I want a little more outta ya. So, don’t hold back just cause ya think I don’t want to or nothin’.” (translation: Please kiss me. I know I act like I don’t want you, but I really, really want you to kiss me. Please, please, please.)

His face will burn, and a blush will work its way up to his ears. It’ll be hard to deny the intensity of his feelings, and it will weigh down on MC – a truth previously held in a bag on their back, tethered to dozens of helium balloons that disguised its weight, and then suddenly found every string cut loose by Mammon’s admission. He really loved them. For his confession, all Mammon would get was a stunned but heartfelt “oh.”

He gets so upset and embarrassed that MC didn’t realize he was being serious before. He went on a rollercoaster of emotions; meanwhile, this whole time, they hadn’t even taken his advances in earnest. It’s practically offensive.

The only remedy for Mammon’s bruised dignity is for MC to immediately hold and kiss him until he’s temporarily satisfied. (“Ya owe me big time for not takin’ me seriously.”)

Leviathan

I mean, he kind of has to flirt before MC can flirt back – unless we’re going to count accidentally blurting out his innermost perverted desires as flirting. Sure, I suppose it’s basically flirting to tell someone “It’s sexy when you tell me what to do. I can’t stop imagining you doing that in other settings.”

He’s so bad at flirting that nothing will happen for a long time after he realizes he’s head over heels. Levi is fine spending the rest of his (or at least MC’s) life pining for them – or at least he believes that. But the longing and desire will start to creep in, and he’ll wonder how much he can ask from MC. Friends can hold hands and maybe even cuddle, right? Maybe even kiss? Could they even –?

The thoughts eat away at him until he can’t wait for MC to make the move anymore. It slips out of him like some mating request written by Dr. Suess: “Would you –? Could you –? With an otaku? A gross, disgusting one, too?”

Levi is so visibly flustered that he doesn’t leave much room for ignorance. Even the most extreme masochist wouldn’t subject themselves to the furiously blushing, trembling state that Leviathan had worked himself into. He’d be on the brink of tears. All his hope in the world would be precariously perched on a ledge, awaiting your response.

I can’t see MC not knowing that Levi was attempting to seduce them, but perhaps the timing of it came as a surprise. Or perhaps they had never taken his affection seriously. He has so many favorites that he can’t pursue; just because he has a massive crush on MC doesn’t mean he had plans to act on it.

He will get even more embarrassed and down on himself to know that MC didn’t take him seriously at first. He understands, but that doesn’t make it any less hurtful.

He will require physical reassurance – as much of it as MC is willing to give him. And honestly, if MC doesn’t end up kissing him until he forgets how to think after his confession, he’ll probably hide in his room for a few weeks purely out of shame.

Satan

With an MC like this, the back-and-forth flirting goes on for an inordinate amount of time. Satan is not a flirt by any definition, but when there’s someone he likes, he knows how to turn on the charm. He’s smart, passionate, and mentally quick on his feet; he’s a natural charmer for the right audience.

Satan moves pretty slow when romance is concerned. If Levi wasn’t such a hopeless cause (affectionately), Satan would probably be the slowest to escalate a romantic relationship. He and MC will have a dozen dates under their belts before the desire for more had become an unbearable burden for Satan to silently ignore.

Eventually, Satan would find himself reading in his room with MC, unable to hold back anymore. He would ask, “Would you mind if I kissed you?” “No, I don’t mind if you want to.” “Could I kiss you now?” “Eh, sure.”

Everything up to that point could have been misread as platonic or some casual interest – maybe even curiosity on his end.

But he was serious, and it was evident in the way he approached MC to collect that kiss. He would straddle their hips, set their book aside (face down to mark the page like a real gentleman), and lean down for the kiss. Then, his lips would move against theirs, and the smallest sigh would escape him like a quiet release of sexual tension that had pressurized his entire body. Then, it would all click for MC.

Surprisingly, he wouldn’t be upset or humiliated if MC hadn’t taken him seriously before. In fact, he sees it as more of a personal failing, and in a low, seductive voice, he would tell them, “Allow me to prove how genuine and deep my feelings are for you.”

Asmodeus

He flirts with everyone, so how was MC supposed to know??

He asks them on dates so often. He’s probably the only one who could make out with MC and they’d still think, “yeah, we’re besties” because when Asmo pulls away with a giggle and a grin, telling them how much fun that was, it doesn’t feel serious.

It would take a moment of angst – either Asmo feeling like MC doesn’t take his advances seriously enough (and they don’t) or MC getting down on themselves – for them to realize.

Asmo would pull them into his room and leave small kisses all over them, peppering in compliments. “You’re so gorgeous, and I adore looking at your face.” Then, he would kiss their cheek. “You’re such a sweetheart.” Then, the other cheek. “I always have so much fun when I’m with you. I don’t ever want you to leave my side.” He would kiss their forehead. “I want you to feel confident; you’re such a wonderful soul.” (He would probably add more compliments if MC was feeling self-conscious.)

His words would get sweeter and more honest. “I feel seen in your eyes – like every part of me is accepted. I don’t have to play it up or try.” He would work his way down their neck with soft pecks to their skin. “I want to share everything beautiful in this world with you.” In part to avoid meeting their gaze. “I want to make you smile with everything I have.” And in part so he could whisper the words into their ear. “I want to help you whenever you need me. I’ll sit right next to you through any pain and hardships you encounter.” No one else had earned the right to hear his praise and affection. “I want to be a comfort for you – someone you can return to like a home.”

Finally, he would face them with a striking affection. “You know I’m in love with you, right? It’s not just lust and fun. You’re everything. You matter the most – after me, of course. It’s me and you and everything else.”

Asmo seduces everyone. That isn’t shocking. But this was more than seduction. It was genuine courtship. He won’t fault MC for being surprised. It caught him off guard too.

Beelzebub

Beel is not super flirty, but he makes it known that he cares through his actions. So, there aren’t many opportunities for MC to “yes, and” flirt back with him.

He asks them out to get food often and brings them snacks, but that doesn’t signal any romantic intentions. Sometimes he might stare at MC affectionately or admit how happy he is to spend time with them, but it’s nowhere near intense.

Sometimes, he asks for something more selfish. It starts small: petting his head, holding his hand, hugging him. None of those register as seduction from Beel for MC, especially compared to the affectionate nature of his twin. In fact, no one would fault MC for thinking these were platonic wants. After all, Beel has been through a lot. Sometimes this sweet, big baby boy just needs physical affection.

Then, he would get a bit bolder with his requests: “Could you feed me?” “Can I feed you?” “Would you hold me?”

As innocent and platonic as Beel may seem, he makes a lot of off-hand remarks that sound a bit perverted. “I bet MC’s lips would taste good.” “I wonder what you taste like.” “MC has nice hands. I bet they would feel good…” These comments could open the door for some flirting from MC, though. “Wanna taste me, Beel?” “Should I give you a massage? Or maybe something more?”

MC flirting with him would make his heart race. Even if MC didn’t follow through with their flirtatious offer, it would encourage Beel to keep pushing his luck.

Finally, he would ask, “Can I kiss you?”

Beel would look so shy and embarrassed, holding his hands awkwardly to his chest, that it would be hard not to take him seriously. The question – and his desire – would be a slight shock. Beel wouldn’t mind that MC was surprised, although he would be disappointed if he was turned down.

If MC takes him up on that offer, they will come to realize that his ravenous hunger showed itself through a kiss, too – as if he had been starving for MC’s touch and affection.

Belphegor

He’s so affectionate and cuddly. In that way, he’s similar to Asmo; it’s pretty hard to tell how serious and intense Belphie’s feelings are. He’s just kind of like that.

It’s common for Belphie to ask to be spoiled with affection – head pats, feeding him, hugging him, sleeping together, going out with him, praising him, holding his hand, being his pillow, etc.

His need for attention doesn’t cover up for how flushed his face gets when MC is the one to give him affection. His neediness doesn’t explain how much he clings to MC or how he blushes and tells them not to stop touching him.

So, actually, he’s less flirty than he is demanding of attention. Going along with his demands only encourages him to vocalize and act on more of his desires. He’d even ask permission to kiss them and to be kissed.

MC probably wouldn’t figure it out until Belphie starts sleepily trying to make out with them.

“Belphie, are you half-asleep?” “What? No. I’m awake. Why?” “That was a really heated kiss.” “Of course it was. Can we keep going?” “I’m sorry, what?”

“Don’t you like me back? We sleep together, go on dates, cuddle, and you even let me kiss your face and neck whenever I please. Don’t you want to go further?”

It hits them. Belphie can read the look of surprise on MC’s face, and it makes him pout. MC really should have known how he felt by then, but he’s confident that his affection is reciprocated before MC even responds.

“Sheesh. You’re really difficult, you know? I’ve had to do a lot of the work here because you’re so dense.” Belphie would straddle MC’s lap and take off his shirt. “I’ll let it go this time, but you better start putting in more effort from now on.”

A/N: Only about 1 hour left to vote in the poll. And we just got to 100 so y'all are getting 2 posts this month. Genuinely, I typed this a/n up, talking about only needing one more vote, checked it again, and the one vote is no longer needed. Good job, y'all. I swear if there are ties...

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Always have but never hold

Previous chapter / Next chapter

a/n part seven folks. Still blows my mind that people are enjoying this. Will take a little break after this chapter so bear (hehe) with me please! But these two will come back to you as soon as possible.✨🤍

warnings: the usual, past trauma, forceful behavior, mental health struggles, anxiety, fire.

Parts in cursive are glimpses to the past.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Carmen knew he was sinking. The images of his previous chef shouting at him didn't ease up. It was always there. Nagging at him. Eating at him. Putting him down and making him feel small. You're terrible at this. You're not good at it. Move faster. Why are you so slow? You are nothing. You're bullshit. You'll never be good enough. Do you like letting people down? You're great at that shitface. Give up. Give up. You'll never get it. Never have what you want because you are a fuckup. A mistake.

Carmy shot up. Cold sweat dripped down his face. Mouth dry. He blinked his eyes a couple of times. Right as the doorbell rang again. His body stilled. It was already late. He had fallen asleep after he returned from the restaurant. That wasn't the plan. But he had laid down on the sofa for a moment, watching a mind-numbing show on TV. And he must have slipped into that uneasy state of slumber. The doorbell went off again. Carmy dragged a hand over his face. He thought about ignoring it. Whoever that was could fuck themselves. Until he remembered that you didn't have your keys on you, and if...

Carmy tripped over the fallen pillow as he staggered through the apartment. Towards the door. His hands were shaky as he turned the key. Yanking the door open. Chest barely managed to welcome all the oxygen he's been inhaling. Hopeful. Lightheaded. And then nothing. And suddenly, there's not enough oxygen. And his shoulders slumped. And he felt tired from that sprint he just had. He felt heavy. The light tingle in his eyes was dying.

"What do you want, sugar?", he sighed. Standing in the doorway, feeling fatigued from that one, single sentence alone. "That's one way to greet your sister", Sugar grumbled, eyes on Carmy. Carmy looked like he was dragged from hell itself. Leaning against the door for support. Carmy, who looked so tired, even sleep would help. "You won't invite me in?", she asked after a while of standing in the outside hallway. Carmy was barely a human. The last thing he needed was someone barging in.

Yet he still stepped to the side because this is sugar, and he loves her. Mikey loved her too. The three were together against the world. Should have been. Youngest or not, Carmen always felt the need to protect her. Somehow shield her from the insanity that was their family, but it rarely worked because even with all the pleading, all the just drop it, don't ask mom that, just let her be, Nat always went head first, igniting the flames even more.

"Shit, Carm... what... where...", he catches her shocked expression as she looked around the apartment. Boxes were still everywhere. But he doubted that was what had she looking stunned. There were dirty plates all over the counter and empty boxes of freezer meals. Cans of drinks. A tea towel was on the floor. The living room looked like it usually looked when art exams were coming. Carmy had dug up everything. Every single thing that, in a way, removed him from you. Was it a mess? Yes. But it was his mess. Your mess. The mess you two made. The mess of you. It was beautiful to Carmy.

He snapped out of the trance just as Natalie reached to take one of your books that was placed right by the stove. "Don't touch it", Carmy barked almost immediately. "Carmen, this is a safety hazard", Nat groaned, and even with her brother shooting daggers at her, she still lifted the book that held a whole bunch of Monet paintings. Water lilies were glancing at the two of them innocently.

"I said leave it be", Carmen wanted nothing more than to snatch the book from Nat's hands. It felt too personal for her to hold. "Clean out the trash at least", she said, moving to turn the pages. The pages. Carmen cringed. "Put the book down, Natalie. Don't fucking mess with me right now". His voice was bitter. Cold. Demanding. He rarely used it with her. It just didn't sit well with him. But this felt as if Nat was pushing her fingers deep into the wounds that Carmy bore. Turning them as she damaged the skin tissue even more.

Natalie had stopped just watching Carmy now. The eyes were nearly watery. "I thought hanging out with Claire was good for you", she muttered, and she truly couldn't have picked the worse words to say. That name alone now made Carmy sick. "Don't", was all he managed to say. Because it was true, he got excited about seeing her in the grocery store back then. And yeah, it felt almost made up when she popped up. She was a big part of his life back then, yes. And Carmy had thought about her when he just moved out. Even then, they hadn't been talking much. But then you walked in, and he saw no one else. There had always been these voices in his head. These nagging thoughts and Claire was one of them, but you killed them all. Wiped Carmy's head clean.

"Claire's a good...", Natalie stated, but Carmy moved forward straight away, ripping the book out of her hands before pointing his finger at her. "Stop pushing her on me! All of you this time! Stop it!", Carmen barked, brushing his head over his face. "Did you ever stop and considered that I was fucking happy?". Those words made Nat bleed as well. Carmen could see the way something in her chest tightened. Her face changed. He still hoped that she had always wanted what was best for him.

"I found someone who loves... loved me, and...", to change the tense felt wrong. But Carmen wasn't sure now. Wasn't sure if you were still out there. Holding onto that little flame that was the love the two of you shared. "I always wanted what's best for you ...", Natalie muttered, eyes full of tears now, glistening in the dim light of the apartment, "Does this look like the best thing for me?"

Carmy gestured around him. Around all the mess. Around himself, "When I blow my brains out just like Miney did?" Natalie's face paled, and her hand came over her chest. She held her breath for a moment before mumbling, "Don't talk shit like that! That was just some girl....", "Some girl? She's been my whole life. She made me better. She made this world better, Natalie", the sound of Carmy's voice was nothing but a silent sob. Because no matter what he did, life constantly chose to remind him that you weren't there beside him.

"Try this," the kitchen was submerged in different smells. Some old French tunes were playing. You were sitting on a little bar stool as Carmen carefully lifted a spoon toward your mouth. You instantly leaned forward, letting the flavors hit your tongue. Eyes big when the most delightful taste filled your senses, "I would sell my kidney for this", you muttered, motioning for Carmy to give you another spoonful, mouth already open. He let out a chuckle, dipping the spoon back in, "It's not that good". You let out a gasp. "Chef, I beg to differ. That's sublime! You need to add this to your menu".

It was delicate. The act of sharing food. To some, it might seem silly and stupid, but to Carmen, it was a whole lot more important. You knew that much even back then. It was his way of saying I trust you. This is me. Now you are looking at one of the rawest forms of me. Stabbing me now and making me feel like no one would be so easy. So what will you pick? It's his way of saying I love you so much that I'm sharing a part of me that's so venerable.

Your eyes shined as you wait for another spoonful, but Carmen halted his movements. "The chef is still unsure", he says, and you narrow your eyes at him, "He would like some more convincing. How about a kiss?". You watched him for a bit, slightly taken aback by his words because Carmen was so rarely in a playful mood. A smirk spreads over your face. "And does this chef kiss all of his taste testers?" That same half-smirk curves his lips as Carmen settles the spoon in the pot. "No, only the one he really fucking likes". You lick your lip nervously, biting the side of it. "Really, really, huh?", you ask in an almost teasingly innocent manner. Carmen only nodded his head as he leans forward. "Well, then... maybe your taste tester is just as desperate for the taste of the chef's lips", and that's all it took for Carme to lean toward you. For you to catch his lips between your palms as you pulled him closer.

"And then I said... Hey? You're listening?", Sydney's voice drags you out of your head, and you nod your head quickly. Eyes fell on Luca, who was a couple of steps away, making you two dinner. His back and arm muscles moved with every delicate cut that he made. "No, I hear you, and it's... well, shit,", you breathed out. Ever since the call earlier today, you've barely let go of your phone. Marcus and Sydney were both pissed. The beef was more than likely to close. The shit was falling apart. Carmy was falling apart. If he hadn't crumbled completely already...

"It messed with Marcus a lot", Sydney's voice was barely a whisper when she said that, cautiously looking at Marcus, who had slipped out to the balcony for some fresh air. "He was... well excited, you know, and I tasted it. It was fucking great. Who even gets a doughnut almost perfect on like a fourth try?", she continued to rant. Luca lifted his head to the sound of doughnuts, and you narrowed your eyes at him. Of course, that's the first thing he subconsciously reaches for. Oh, these fucking chefs trained more insanely than Pacvlov's dogs.

Silence falls, from the little screen in front of you, you can see a lost Sydney, and oddly enough, you feel guilty. As if this was your fault all along. As if you should have thought more about your flee. "Where are you anyway? Carmy goes mental at the mention of your name", Sydney killed the silence, and suddenly you don't know what to say. The obvious thing would be to say the truth, but...

"Oh am... Just you know", you muttered, but you can tell that she didn't know. "You two broke up or something?", and it's an innocent question. She's like a kid who made an absurd comment and jabbed the grownup right where it hurt the most. You can sense that even Luca stilled.

"We didn't... well, we did..." you let out a sigh, "Complicated. I'm in Copenhagen". Sydney's eyes grow big as she brings her phone closer to her face, and you cannot help but chuckle slightly. You watched little pieces put themselves together in her brain.

"I'm at a friend's house. He answered the call. Luca. He's a baker", You weren't sure why you were explaining yourself, but then something completely different shifted through Sydney's face. "Wait, Luca? THE chef Luca from Copenhagen?", and just like that, the whole relationship drama was swept away. Your eyes met Luca's, and he was already chuckling slightly. "Of course that... it definitely doesn't mean that it's THAT Luca because, like, there must be a lot of Luca's...", and here she was, muttering and falling over her words and it's making your heart clench. That's how she talked about Carmen not long ago. How she looked at him in the kitchen—that admiration. An astonishing thrill to be able to swirl around chefs like that. "Oh yeah, scratch it. It's definitely that, Luca", your eyes fall to the screen, and you see Luca leaning over your shoulder with a gentle smile on his face as he waves at Sydney.

"Hi, it's me again. Haven't called in a couple of days, and", Carmy takes a hesitant breath, "You probably were happy with not hearing from me". Another sigh leaves his lips, "I thought about Ossobuco today. So random, right? But I... I thought about our trip to Italy". The silence this time held this anticipated moment of peace almost. "You liked that dish so much I could make it for you constantly for the rest of the month, remember?", something like an almost happy cackle leaves Carmy's lips. "I'd like to cook ossobuco for you one day again", he says, and the line goes silent.

You were puffing out the last clouds from the cigarette when Luca stepped out onto the balcony. Your phone was tossed to the side. Stains of angry tears were kissed by a light evening breeze. Luca said nothing as he sat down, his hand coming to run your thigh softly. "Penny, for your thoughts?", he said quietly, his eyes now fully on you.

"Do you remember when you came to Libby's that night?", Luca's hand stopped moving; his hand was completely still on your leg now. You could tell that he was clenching his jaw tightly. He didn't want to remember, nor did you, but he still nodded. "I was so confused and scared", you muttered. "You were pumped with shit that ass gave you and dumped for later use", Luca huffed, and you cringed at his pick for words slightly. "Libby "found me", you say air quoting the last two words. "And then he fucked her as a thank you and kept doing so for the next six months till I found out", you let out a bitter laugh. Closing your eyes to fight the stinging in your eyes "Why are you bringing this up?", Luca asked. "Because it's been playing on my mind ever since I came here," you admitted, pushing your cigarette at the ashtray before lighting a new one. "I...", you shake your head slightly, "Carmy made my head less busy ", almost in disbelief. "I was almost set, like, that's it. I found my happy ever after after all that... We will get married, he'll have his restaurant, I'll open an art gallery, and we have a kid or two or twenty, I don't know", you muttered, suddenly getting so angry almost. Not sure at who exactly, but the frustration was bubbling.

"Do you remember what Pop used to say?", Luca asked, almost as if he wasn't listening to the whole random rant you just had. "He said many things, Luca", you grunted. "Love is the best thing we as humans have the privilege to give", your frown at Luca's words. Out of everything, "You love him, bunny; he loves you considering the number of times your phone pings throughout the day", Now it's Luca's turn to shake his head as he considers his next words, "I'm not justifying his actions, but as I've been saying, you didn't listen to his side of the story, and you've always wanted and wished that someone had listened to your side back then".

The restaurant felt more and more unfamiliar to Carmy as the days went by. He was late with paying bills. His brain was buzzing with Richie and his not-so-legal ways of getting the money. The place was shit. He was surprised they hadn't been closed yet. He was short on staff. Especially after Sydeny and Marcus left. Carmy had wanted to call both of them individually. He had picked up that doughnut that Marcus was eager to show him. He picked it right off the floor and put it straight into his mouth. It was amazing. Sure, it needed a couple of tweaks to perfection, but Carmy would have served it like it was.

He hadn't told anyone about... well, whatever the situation between the two of you was. But from the way Tina was looking at him, he was convinced that at least she knew. I mean, she did say, "Ask yourself why, Jeff," and "Boy, I thought you were smarter". And telling himself that he hadn't done anything that bad seemed like such a duchy thing too. Sure, he didn't flirt, they haven't kissed, and there was nothing sexual between him and Claire. They met up a couple of times. She dragged him to one party. He chased this childhood dream with her. Oh, if I just caught onto it, maybe just maybe my family will open their eyes finally too. But Carmy made awful choices along the way.

Carmen longed for you through the days. He found himself going to the office when shit hit the fan, and he would lose track of reality. Hoping to find you there. In hope to be held in your arms. Let the chaos die down. Just the more he stepped into the office, and it was emptier and emptier.

Carmen had let everyone go home earlier. He said it was because they've done an awesome job. The truth was that he just wanted to be alone. Carmen thought about cooking something. Maybe something new, but his imagination had been so dull. Nothing felt right, no matter how hard he tried.

So Carmen opted to scrub the floors, scrub the countertops, and check through the walk-in. Until he was left there. Staring numbly at the clock. Until he reached for the pack of cigarettes before realizing, after tapping his pockets multiple times, that he didn't have a lighter at hand. So Carmy leaned in carelessly, flipping the gas stove on and trying to direct the cigarette to the flame.

Then everything happens so fast, and his mind is so tired. The fire catches the rest of the countertop. Spreading. Hot tongues licking towards Carmy. But all he hears are the same words that hunt him now. You're terrible at this. You're not good at it. Move faster. Why are you so slow? You are nothing. You're bullshit. You'll never be good enough. Do you like letting people down? You're great at that shitface. Give up. Give up. You'll never get it. But it's not his old chef. Oh no, this time it's you. You scream at him through the flames, and his irrational mind panics because you're in the flames and you're... Are you burning? So he nearly leaps forward, reaching for you. And then it's no longer the nagging voices; it's his name that Carmy was hearing over and over. Louder and louder.

And then there are hands pulling him away; Carmen being pulled behind the counter; someone is extinguishing the fire; someone is holding onto him; and someone is still calling his name. But Carme stares at the fire. "Carmen", the voice called out. Pulling at his mind. Trying to ground him. Trying to make him come to his senses. "Carm", and then gentle hands caressed his jaw, pulling his face away from the stove, and there and then Carmen was convinced that he had burned. Went straight to the flames and just burned. "Are you fucking insane? Show me your hands", but he's stunned. He's... "You're not real", he muttered, shaking his head. Doubting his eyes fully "You can't...", He doesn't believe it. Reaching out, he touches the person in front of him. Worried eyes look up at him. "Y/N...", Carmen muttered, and then it's a mantra on his lips, and he's muttering it without a single breath in. And you know you shouldn't. It's bad; it's wrong, but Carmen launched himself into your hands. Arms wrapped around your middle, and you're shaking, and he's shaking, and it feels like an illusion, like a dream you two had walked into. It's probably not real Carmen thinks. And he's waiting for you to disappear to slip past his fingers, but you don't; you're here, and he's holding onto you. And finally, Carmen takes a deep breath in, and his heart kick-starts again.

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Taglist: Carmy: @nishinoyahhh @thewulf @shewasthelimit @chatitajens @azxulaa @hidingfromtex @randomhoex @hopplessdreamer @lostinheavensworld @jackierose902109 @gallaghrh @gabbycoady13 @harrysmatcha @lady-bellyn @lovejoyenjoyer @infinitelycharmed23 @royalestrellas @hanula18 @thoughtfulmoonchild911 @buckys-winter-child @arieltwvdtohamflash @simsiddy @yezzyyae @hidingfromtex @toptierbunny @rooster-bradshaws @simonsaysyasss @hannahmmarie2016 @ladygrey03 @kyushii

[hoseoksluna]

RASPBERRIES | jhs ft. jjk

pairing: boyfriend!hobi x berries!oc (feat. ex-boyfriend!jk and luna)

genre: smut, angst

word count: 10.5k

summary: a step towards breaking the curse of your life—nothing could be sweeter than that, could it?

pinterest board: raspberries / taglist: join

warnings: anal sex:), blowjob, a bit of an argument?:), bathtub sex, ass eating, pussy licking, this whole chapter is a warning itself, oc and hobi are just horny, anger, crying, daddy issues, breeding kink, praise kink, spitting:), their emotions are all over the place, brief mention of suicide.

note: okay, this chapter might have salvaged this entire series. i wrote entirely through my feelings and the plot took a whole different direction. like i had something planned, but the characters do what they want. :) SORRY FOR THE CLIFFHANGER. THE CHAP WAS GETTING LONG. and i want the last (next) chapter to be juicy! please, send me your thoughts via my inboooox. i'll be waiting. do we trust jk or not? skfhskfhs. enjoy, my loves!

Perhaps, you should’ve seen it coming—the fact that Jungkook wouldn’t pick up. The rosily gold sunlight warms your fire of anger as you try and try again, the number beside his name on your screen rising and rising until another digit joins it. Something about it feels like a childish payback and you don’t really know why you like it so much. Why you like making him feel the way he made you feel when he spammed your phone after you made the worst mistake of your life by accidentally sending him the video of you professing that your intimate parts belong to Hobi. 

Perhaps, it's as simple as that—it’s childish. And you find yourself to be in a safe realm for your inner child to come out and live. Come out and take revenge. 

Another layer of warmth is pressed against your bare back, heavier, more homely. You swivel your head to bump into Hobi’s jaw, to catch the furrow of his brows as they serve as a shadow from the morning sun, along with the antique structure of his body. His trembling hands hook onto your shoulders, squeezing once before they drift down your arms. Inching closer, he wraps them around you in a suffocating hold. And it isn’t until he closes his lips down onto your temple and steals your phone, flinging it away, that you realize he did it in order to stifle the fire. 

“That’s enough,” he whispers and it graces you with the notion that it should be saved for another time, the picture of his tremor coming forth and the question of why. It kills you, slowly, the liveliness of his emotions, portrayed so gently by his hands. Why are they shaking? 

They snuffed out the fire, but the residue of the painting, colorless and bland, remains. It lines your skin—you can even see it in the streaks of the sunlight. The curves, the message. What was he punishing you for? It’s a question that now unfolds within the strange calmness descending down your body. Was he punishing you for having a man? For returning to your salvation that is in a lung burner? For going against him? Or for raising your fists—feeding him the poisonous negativity of your emotions? 

The need to reach for your phone and talk to Jungkook seizes you again and you fight against Hobi’s hold, but he says no. Sternly, seriously. Tightens his hold. Doesn’t let go. 

“Let it be,” he adds, rubbing your arm with the hand that lays across your chest. But you can’t, you can’t—

“Hobi, I can’t—”

Your sentence is silenced by the sudden kneading of his hands upon your knotted shoulders. Relief evaporates every need, every black fume of your doused fire. His hands bear strength now as his thumb focuses on the tightness of your muscles and you droop, you crumble. And what you didn’t expect—Hobi droops and crumbles with you. 

The violence of his heart against your back, it becomes yours when he pulls you into the shadows of the wavering structure of his body. Its stones ricochet off of your decaying figure, dropping onto the floor with a loud, thunderous thud. You feel the saddened line of his mouth against your cheek, into which he sinks, quietly as a mouse, his whimper. He doesn’t cry and he doesn’t yell, his infelicity, bound to yours, radiates the entire room in gloom. Clouds swim past the sun and linger, the rosy glow snuffed out—just like your fire. 

The wedding of your joy has been put off. The groom has been left at the altar, and it’s all your fault. 

Why is everything so temporary? 

Why are you unable to be stable? To stay submissive amidst the ups and downs of your life? To stay calm, unaffected? 

You’re so weary of it. Weary of yourself, weary of your life, of the curse. 

You turn around and embrace him. Feel like it’s the only right thing you can do at this very moment. Hobi welcomes you in, lets you sign and recuperate in the kingdom of his arms. Rubs your back, gathers the ends of your hair in his hands as if it were a stream of water he longed to refresh himself with. 

It’s so different, to be given love when you don’t ask for it. Something opens within you, a circle of mildness that cracks its mouth wide to consume the edges of the curse until only its axis, its middle core remains. Lightness drives your hands to embrace him tighter, only for Hobi to follow the movement—lungs in sync while your heart tries to mimic his rapid movement. 

It’s like a wordless eulogy. Goodbye to the old life, to the old pain, so the new can settle. Hobi can sense it, too. Supports it when he swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing against the crown of your head, wets his mouth, prepares himself to speak. 

But then your phone starts ringing. 

Your heart lurches forward, but you dwell in motionlessness. You don’t care anymore. Hold the serenity, the lightness in higher regard. 

“Let it ring,” Hobi whispers, tracing circles on your back, the same pattern that has opened within you. 

You nod against his clavicle. “I will.” 

His hands descend to your waist and clenches it for a while, a sensation of groundedness washing over you, cleansing you. You kiss his collarbone. Then, a message dings. 

“How about I run you a bath?” Hobi asks in your ear, nuzzling his nose in your hair, muffling out the sound of another Jungkook’s intrusion. The idea resembles a paradise to you and you beg for it with a singular, pretty word. 

Scooping you up in his arms, he sets you down in front of your bathtub, your nipples brushing against his chest with the descent, awakening the dried pool of your arousal deep in your core. A fresh spring of water fills it until it brims over and so you don’t waste a drop, you slam your mouth onto his, kissing him. He hums, lowly, into your mouth, not foreseeing something like this, and the sound splashes in the pool, drenching you whole, showering your orchard in the life it needs. 

Slipping your tongue inside, he lets you taste him for a mere moment, before he clasps your mouth in his hand and stares you down. “Hold it.” 

Hold what? Your incessant stream of horniness for him? 

Reaching over, he fills up the bath with warm water with one hand, its mist rising up your body, spreading little dots of anticipation on your skin, erasing the lines, the curves and the message of the painting you never saw, but envisioned. And before he can straighten, you pull him back up. He smiles down at you, kissing you, tenderly, mouths smacking within the briefness and the pool within you heats up. 

Except for the orgasm he gave you in the middle of the night, right before dawn, neither you or him got the release you needed when you were connected. Pity ripples in your water and you grasp his manhood in your hand, semi-hard. How did he get excited this quickly? You coo, but only for yourself, drifting your hand down his poor, blue balls, squeezing them, coaxing a pained sigh out of him. 

“Does it hurt?” you ask, softly, flicking your gaze up into his. They must be hurting, considering the amount of arousal that swirled inside without an ounce of alleviation. 

He doesn’t respond, but that’s an answer for you. Light flows from his eyes as seriousness draws his features tight, bottom lip tucked between his teeth. You kiss his chest, gripping him a little before you let go, threading your fingers through your hair, parting them into three sections and, blindly, instinctively, you plait them into a braid, securing the end with a silk, thin scrunchie. Pink, like his imaginary wings. 

“Come join me.” 

Hobi shakes his head, though. Holds you steady as you swing your leg over the lip of the bathtub, sinking into the warm, misty water. At the sight of you kneeling, he lets out another pained sigh, prolonged this time and you feel so bad for him that you don’t think twice before you take him into your mouth. 

“Pup, fuck,” he moans, grabbing the crown of your head as his knees shake. All of his emotions are expressed through the tremors, you note, and it drives you to open your mouth wider, swallowing him deeper. “Oh, yeah, that’s so good.” 

Your walls clench and you mewl around him, dragging your tongue flat on the underside of him as you draw back, swirling the muscle around the tip of him as you grip him. You use your saliva to stroke him, making him cage in his bottom lip between his teeth again. Eyes rolled back, his reddened lip springs back, and he gazes down at you, fingers trailing down until they meet your loose plait, acknowledging themselves with the newness. 

“I love your hair like this. You’re so pretty,” he comments, voice so terribly strained, and you hum, pleased to hear such a compliment. You hollow out your cheeks on his tip, sucking him, slowly, and he repeats those words you love so much, your noises of pleasure rising in pitch. “You really do love it when I say that, don’t you? God, I adore you. All of who you are.” 

You withdraw, completely, without losing your grip on him, panting. Can feel your eyes send waves of love towards him as you bore them, piercingly, into his. He groans, divulging to you that he received the message, and you could burst, you could fly—turn this water into fire as his godliness from his precum sweetens your throat once you swallow, the aftertaste of him transforming you into an unknown being of holiness. You’re not God, you’re not an angel, either. You’re something else, entirely. A figment of his creation on the cusp of awakening and living. A moving picture of stability, submission and feline softness. Something he adores. Something he’ll soon love. 

And it pleasures you, intensely. 

“Do you adore me, pup?” Hobi asks as he wraps his hand around your braid. One time, two times, three times—until your hair is pulled so tight that he inclines your chin up to him, waiting for your answer. And he doesn’t have to voice it out—the dark side of his desire, the bad things he wants to do to you. You perceive them clouding his pearlescent eyes, making them brighter. 

You wish the moon would turn its face towards you, so it could see the change that is occurring.  So it could see the way you’ll use its magnetism to blanket yourself with Hobi’s darkness. 

Now you’re able to. Now you’re prepared. 

“I adore you, Daddy,” you breathe out, stroking him faster, your chest mimicking the rhythm. “And I want to show you just how much. You said you wanted to make me forget. Let me do that for you.” 

His moan transmutes into a vulgarity, a tender shade of pink scattering along his cheeks and you could eat them. Your heart thumps, colorfully, your longing to help him forget the taste of the bane of your life growing and growing like a thick bush of raspberries. He deserves it—needs it, considering the infelicity of his that he poured over you when he held you, his lack of words shared with you. He deserves the fucking world and you’re willing to go above and beyond to give it to him. To give it to your boyfriend. Your husband. 

“How? Tell me how you’re gonna do it.” 

You draw your face to his cock, but he pulls you back by your braid, coaxing a dark mewl out of you. A drum begins to beat in your clit—the start of his song, incited by his darkness. 

“Did I not tell you to use your words?” Hobi scolds, so awfully sternly, and you flutter all over, the peaks of your nipples stiffening, the drum picking up its rhythm. Your eyes widen as that darkness of his overwhelms you and you want more of it. 

“Help me say it,” you say, your heart not letting you lie to him as the words, ‘I don’t know how to say it’ were on the tip of your tongue. 

Hobi smirks, tightening his grip on your braid. Pain shoots up your scalp and even though you hiss, you like it. He inches forward, his lips a mere centimeter away. The radiation of his pleasure hits you, drifting down to your core. You almost reach your hand down to it, so the ache disappears, but you yearn to focus on him, wholly. 

“If you want to suck on this cock and if you want me to praise you, then you’re gonna have to give me those pretty words that I know you’re capable of saying,” he murmurs, clicking his tongue at the halt of your hand around him and you resume, pressing play on the movie of his guttural moans—and you moan along with him, enjoying the sound. 

Is that a hint of his pent-up anger? You believe, wholeheartedly, that it’s somewhere hiding in him, that he’s keeping inside, adamant on not letting it out in your presence. You want to unlock that cage and beckon it out, meet it, learn its name and its desires. And you’ll do it—just so Hobi feels better. 

You can handle it. 

And to do it, you linger, intentionally, in your quietness, ceasing your movement on his cock. In fact, you withdraw altogether. Arch your spine when you sit back, your breasts bouncing a little. And he lets you, unbelief slackening his hold on your braid, mouth parted. Perhaps, he’s thinking you don’t want to go along with the foreplay, so he’s taking a step back, but what he doesn’t know is that what you’re doing is as much of a means of it as it is one of healing. 

There’s no way he isn’t angry at your ex-boyfriend for punishing you silently for whatever he thinks you did. There’s no way there isn’t the same fire in him that burned in you at the sight of him marking you with the palm of his hand. He saw the painting, you didn’t. There is simply no way he doesn’t want to explode. 

Hobi does lots of things for you. Stifling his emotions until they lash out in the form of his tremor is one of them. And you crave, with your whole being, to do the same for him. Let him feel like he let you feel. Make him come, vividly, like he made you come. 

Adore him like he adores you. 

“I’m such a bad girl, aren’t I?” you purr, lifting your fingers to your breasts and swirling them around your hardened nubs. His eyes flick to them and enlarge. You spread your legs and let him see all of you, bolts of pleasure swaying your body like the water lapping at your stomach. “Withholding my words on purpose when you’re so hard, when you need me. Hm, don’t I deserve to be punished? Don’t I deserve to be punished so hard that I willingly give you my words?” 

Hobi pants and his nostrils flare, chest heaving and slightly shuddering in tandem with the drum in your clit. Sweat coats the antique structure of his body, darkening it as if rain fell upon it, staining it for a little while. You want to stain it with his ivory arousal—make a magnificent sculpture out of him to remember this important moment. 

His anger will change everything. His anger will be a step to breaking the curse—to settling the process of the bane, Jungkook’s intrusion. You may have decided to do this alone, but it was wrong of you. He should be the one to make order like the father he is while you stand behind him, clutching the material of his pants. 

You will get him there. 

“I want you to spank me.” 

He doesn’t let a second pass. Doesn’t blink. “I can’t.” 

Your heart cracks, but you will strength of the raspberries into it. “Yes, you can. You can make me red and you can show him. You can show him who’s the boss. Who owns me. Who has his handprint on me. It’s you and it’s always going to be you. You have every right to do what I know you want to do, Hoseok.” 

He raises his brows, mouth agape. Clenches his fists. “You want me to spank you and send a picture of it to him?” 

You nod, dipping your hands into water. 

“Why would I stoop to his level?” he asks, scoffing, and your throat dries, struck with shock. You didn’t anticipate this kind of answer from him and you don’t know what to say, his fatherliness and dominance enveloping you in a milky blue aura of smallness. What does he want to do, then?

Hobi steps closer. Doesn’t bend at the waist. Doesn’t crouch. Doesn’t get on his knees. He lets you look up at him in your smallness. Lets you feel his control, the manliness of his stature and energy and you gulp. Turned on and intrigued at the same time. 

“I’m not a boy, pup,” he says and you wish he would touch you, touch your pebbled nipples, soothingly, feeling yourself needing it as he reprimands you. “I don’t need to play games. I’m too old for this shit. This is what pubescent boys do when they feel threatened, when they feel jealous. If I were to play his game for you, I’d only encourage him. I wouldn’t be stopping it, I’d be kicking the ball over to him. Do you really think I want to do that?” 

You let out a breath. Your muscles tense, ready to scream out the question that has been boiling in you all this time. 

“What do you want to do?” 

He sucks in a breath, baring his teeth. There it is—there is that anger, the whole resplendent, monumental rawness of it. 

“What do I want to do?” he asks as if he couldn’t believe you’re asking him that question, as if he couldn’t believe you’re allowing him to have a part in it. It thrills you—and as it thrills you, it moves forward your transformation. 

“Yes, tell me what you want to do. Tell me how you want to settle this.” You stand your ground, inviting him in, inviting him into your life, to have a say in it, to have a fatherly hand in it; letting the sunlight make it right, make it alive, real and serious. 

“Is that what you want? For me to step in?” he whispers, that disbelief still ringing—and you pout, touched by it. 

“Yes, Hobi,” you hush out, leaning over and grabbing his hands. He lets you hold them for a second before he untwines your hold and cradles your face, kneeling by the bathtub. 

The light in his eyes is too overwhelming and you melt into it, your breath hitching in your throat as you surrender. He presses his lips in a firm line, his thumbs brushing away your flyaways, and you lean into his touch, head tilted to the side. 

As he tastes the newness of the conjunction to your life and his, you ask again. “What do you want to do?” 

He sighs and takes in heavy breaths right after, seething, pressing his forehead against yours. And as you and him close your eyes simultaneously, he finally answers. “I want to break his fucking face.” 

Dots of gooseflesh chill your skin and you don’t stop yourself from humming out your pleasure of hearing that. “Yes, Hoseok.” 

You feel his gaze on you as he continues—and it might as well have been him who opened your eyes. “I want to break his hands for creating that degrading, shitty painting of you. And I want to break it. Destroy it. So it never sees the light of the day again.” 

You choke out a moan, your whole body set on fire—a different one, this time. A blue fire, milky blue like your aura of smallness. “Yes, Daddy.” 

Hobi groans, kissing you, nastily. Tongues and clashing of teeth, hunger and anger gratified as he pours it out into your mouth. Lets you taste it, swallow it. The same fire, but brighter, bigger, scorching hot, so alluring. 

You don’t have to fan the flames of his will. He’s already decided. 

“Once I’m done with you, you’re gonna send him a text,” he shares his plan with you between hard kisses; you can only whimper in your neediness in response. “You’re gonna tell him that you’re coming over to his place to talk, to look at the painting.” A sigh, a suction of lips, a moan. “Alone.” A swirl of tongues until the details of his plan spiral in the same dance in your brain. “I’ll come with you. And I’ll settle this once and for all.” 

He withdraws, letting you breathe. Your body tingles, your lips, especially, every nerve ending crying out in need, whimpering at the way he studies your form—eyes lifting and falling over your swells, curves and marks. And something about the way he ogles you like that makes you feral. 

“Do you understand what I’m saying?” he asks, that urgency flashing again in the light of his eyes, and you nod—a thousand times. “Repeat it back to me.” 

The drum in your clit becomes unbearable and you can hear its song in your brain. All thoughts fade to nothingness, memories, triggers, pains. All of it evanesces, but one thing remains.

His plan.  

“I’m gonna text him that I’m coming over to his place alone to talk and you’re gonna come with me and settle this like the Daddy you are,” you stream out, panting, focusing on the sudden numbness of your lips as his kiss still engulfs them as a new memory. 

Hobi grins, pleased, and it propels you so fucking quickly to lean over and lick up the underside of his now fully hard length. Even though you can’t see it, you know the grin breaks as he deeply moans, your tongue circling his sensitive, red tip. You begin to suck it, bobbing your head up and down in a short, curt motions, and he fists your braid in one hand while the other digs into your hair at the nape of your neck, holding you to him as you give him what he befittingly deserves. 

“Good girl. My good fucking girl. Oh, yeah. Like that, pup. Fuck, it feels so good. Just like that,” he praises and your whole body clenches and doesn’t let up, your nectar dripping into the water. “I’m gonna fix everything and then I’m gonna make you a Mommy, arasseo?” 

You growl around him, taking after him, his words intoxicating you enough to withdraw, yearning to have him inside you. But not in the place, where he engraved his enigma, the breaking of the curse. You burn to have him stretch out the hole, where no one has ever been—the one you teased him about on your first date. 

He blinks at you, hearing your sound, and his grin grows all over again, massaging the back of your scalp as if you were a puppy. You reciprocate it, devilish with your own plan. Feral, feline, and incessantly horny for him. 

The water reaches your belly button and you turn off the tap without breaking the contact. Then, you tug his hand, inviting him into the bathtub. 

“Let’s pretend,” you say, knowing beforehand that he’ll get the message, the meaning of your vague words, and Hobi curses, pleasing you, brushing his hair out of his forehead, exposing the undercut that makes you even wetter. 

Such a beautiful Father. 

You tug him again. Create space for him in your tiny bathtub and he loosens your breath when he gets in and manhandles you—pushing you flush to his body and over his lap, his hands coming over your bum, kneading it, his slender fingers sneaking to the little hole that craves him. The sunlit water sloshes and it’s so intimate—the way it ripples around your body and his, stilling as he looks deeply into your eyes, the two of his digits circling around that virgin part of you. 

He’s going to consume the little purity you have left and there’s nothing you want more at this moment. 

“You want me here?” he murmurs, growling as he feels you open for him there when he prods it, and you drip, drip, drip onto his thighs. 

You kiss him, chastely, in his fashion, willingly giving over your purity. “And from the back.” 

He chuckles, flashing his white teeth, and you want them all over your body. The effulgence of his blush, too. 

“Lie back. I’ll get you ready for it.” 

Preparation, such an important word in your relationship. 

You do as he says, giddy, leaning against the rounded wall of the bathtub. Yelp as he raises your hips above the surface of the water and right onto his mouth, delving onto your pussy without a second spared, licking over the entirety of her, mouth open, letting you see everything. 

“Fuck,” he moans, smacking his mouth, and your legs hanging in the air begin to tremble. “I can feel you throb for me. You wanna be Mommy so bad, don’t you?” 

You can’t stop it, the scream of agreement that emits out of your mouth; that goes on once he swirls his tongue around that drumming pulse, learning its song—because as soon as he does, he sucks it, possessing it. Your orgasm crests and his hands never shake, never waver, holding you up as if in Greek celebration. 

You can feel the stone burst forth from your legs, completing, little by little, your transformation. He’s creating a sculpture out of you. Not of Virgin Mary, not of Mary Magdalene, either. A sculpture, authentic, of you. And on the cusp of your orgasm, he takes his tongue to your other, tiny hole, fucking you there with a verve as if he sensed the work of his hands that resume the godly abuse on your clit after he tells you to place your feet on the rim of the tub. 

And when you come, you’re white, smooth, magnificent and whole. 

You’re you, in the simplest of words. 

Mind spinning, swimming in the delight of groundedness, authenticity and love, all your body asks for is to be taken. You go to turn around, but Hobi stops you with a hand on your waist. 

“I want to look at you when I fill you up,” he croaks out, shades of pinks adorning him. As he is the God of everything, you think at heart he must be the God of all pink flowers with the way they blossom underneath his skin. You believe the same flowers will sprout out of your stone as soon as you’re stuffed full and feignedly bred. “I want to see the look on your face when you feel our kids inside you.”

Our kids. You close your eyes at the wave of a profound emotion sprinkling over you and you feel like crying, feel like sobbing, begging him for it, wanting your old life to be finally ended, killed, destroyed, wanting to cling to him with your whole being and newness, to his godliness, his flowers, his masculine fatherliness. You want to live in him, and the notion, the craving is so intense in you that you exhale it out with every breath, with every pleading word you give him. 

“Please, breed me. Please, please, please.” 

He sucks in that breath, eyes large and dazzling, filled with so much tenderness and adoration. Pulls you flush to his body again, raising you just a little bit as he lines himself up at your little hole. Spits on his fingers while boring that gaze into yours, so terribly up close, his knuckles brushing against the flesh of your bum as he spreads that lubrication over his tip. Does it again, rubs it over your hole. And a perverse obsession with it overpowers you, seizes you in its grasp, and you crave it. 

You gaze your lips along his, sharing a breath that is perfumed with the scent of roses. “Spit in my mouth.” 

Those eyes of his narrow in dark, dark pleasure and he nods in a promise. Driving your fingers up his undercut, you let your body follow his guidance as he sinks you down on him, stealing your mouth in a deep, long kiss that showers your figure in those familiar tingles. Discomfort parts them while you stretch around his tip, though, and he doesn’t stop kissing you, even when you mewl. In fact, he steps into that realm of the painful sensation by thumbing your clit, by toying with your tongue, and whimpering into your mouth when you convulse around him. Gets rid of anything that prevents you from accommodating him. 

Your thighs burn at the slowness of your descent, but once he’s nestled, at home, and you feel so full that you could come from it alone, Hobi breaks the kiss; and using the height difference, he spits into your waiting mouth, growling. Even his saliva is filled with powerful godliness and when you swallow and show him, the same power becomes yours. 

And he smiles. It seems as though he can see it on you and his mouth widens in a lopsided grin. You clench around him. 

“You’re such a good pup,” he praises and you do it again, coaxing a growl out of him. He still remains motionless, waiting for you to get used to him, and your love for him grows owing to that. “That was your reward.” A sigh, a grin. “Now I’m gonna fuck you hard.” 

You latch onto his neck, trembling like him. “Yes, please, Daddy.” 

It’s not just your life and his that joined. It’s your soul and his that becomes one singular face of joy when he begins to pound you. He whispers to you to keep holding onto him like that as he drives in and out of your little hole with such rapidness and hardness that you lose your own knowledge of your name. All you know is his. 

Hobi. Hoseok. Daddy.

And you whisper it, you say it, you scream it. All while the water sloshes around you; all while you stretch and tighten around him and his praises for you are strained, choked out, giving you all of his strength while remaining full of it as if he never gave you an ounce of it. 

His eyes never leave you, never stray away from your emotions, your pleasure, the twists of your features, the opening and closing of your mouth. And you look right back, your feline energy dousing him in sweat and ardor, the force that furrows his brows, that tightens his lips in a firm line and loosens it in pleasure as he bares his all. 

And suddenly, you’re up in the air and your wet back soaks your bed sheets. Hobi rummages in your Nike box under your bed and you feel yourself stretched open, a gaping hole for him. You gasp when you drift your finger along it and you already miss him there. 

Hobi chuckles at your disbelief, your most favorite toy in his hand. A pink egg—a clit sucker and a vibrator at the same time, though the vibrations never did much for you. It’s the pressure, sucking waves that kept you company in your singleness before Jungkook and after, save for the waves of the sea. 

“You never thought you could stretch like that, huh?” 

The ‘huh’ pinches you, but you shake that feeling away, understanding Hobi’s dislike when you asked him to spank you. A momentary sensation before your horniness washes it away at the soft sound of the toy coming to life. 

“Do you have lube somewhere?” Hobi asks, but you can’t speak. You point to the bedside table and he’s quick to slide it open, fishing out your raspberry and strawberry scented lube. 

What a coincidence. 

And you laugh when he squirts it on you from a distance, its coldness refreshing like a lick of ice cream to your heated body. And Hobi laughs along, smearing it all over you, especially over your still gaping, red hole, fingering you there with two fingers, fleetingly, just to tease you, just to pull those sounds out of you that get his head back in the game. 

Then he’s inside, back home. You can’t keep your eyes open and Hobi can’t swallow down his noises, growling and humming as loud as his body asks, ramming into you until all you can hear is his pleasure and the music of skin slapping on skin. 

And when you least expect it, he places the pulsing toy on your swollen clit. 

Your muscles strain, tense and taut, your throat dead silent as you can’t speak, can’t compose any sort of song of the delight that paralyzes your body. You scratch your nails down his back in effort to declare to him the beauty of his artwork and Hobi whimpers, pounding you into the mattress while keeping the toy steady, your breasts bouncing up and down, gleaming in the sunlight, pebbled, aroused, begging for his tongue when he looks down at them, his blush deepening. 

“Look at me,” he commands, stopping, so you can focus, and you begin to inhale quick, staccato breaths as your orgasm nears, the pressure in your tummy coiling and coiling, threatening to rip. You open your eyes, just in time to catch his endeared coo—because he can see how close you are. His lungs mimic the same rhythm, abdominal muscles prominent and defined as he, again, gives you his all. “There, baby?” he asks, speaking of the placement of the toy, and you’re only able to nod. “Ready to become a Mommy? Daddy is right there with you, pup. You squeeze around me so well, you’re doing such a good job. We’re gonna come together, yeah? You want to come with Daddy?” Another nod—because you’re trying your hardest to stall your orgasm as he jackhammers your little hole. You thank him in your heart, like the God he is, that he’s keeping the toy steady because if he were to move it… you’d come on the spot. “Say ‘yes, Daddy’ or I’m not letting you come.” 

You hiccup, shuddering so awfully pitifully while your cat-like aura of power strengthens, giving you all that you need to say it. And your eyes narrow in that sultriness, mouth pouts and you dig your claws deeper into his back, making him fuck your ass harder in payback that feels more than fucking delicious. 

“Yes, Daddy. Fuck, fuck. Give it to me, please. Make me a Mommy, please, fuck. Daddy, Daddy, Daddy—”

And it’s a litany without end as Hobi moves the toy side to side and sweeps you off your feet, bringing you over the threshold of your shared home with you as his bride in his arms. You come, violently, its electric sparks shocking Hobi and he pumps you full of his cum, never stopping his hard motions, even as he twitches, growls—praising you, groaning the two words you like—and shudders just like you. He fucks you through your feigned impregnation, throwing the toy away when you squeak in overstimulation in the middle of your delirium, and he kisses you as if he hadn’t done so in a thousand years, sucking your lips so hard that they must bruise, his mound hitting your clit and stimulating it further. The warmth, the wetness—tears line your eyes and the same ones wet his eyelashes as he presses his elbows on either side of your head, panting against you, his nose brushing yours. He stares down at you, a look full of shadowed, yet pure love, the realization that you’ve done it, at last, but differently, bathing his face in light that blinds you—and blinds your tears, drying them as you smile up at him, running your fingers through his hair, through his undercut. 

“I got a big load for you, pup,” he croaks out, fucking you, slowly. “I can’t fucking stop coming. You feel so good. I’m weak for you, fuck.” 

You sob, finding your voice, made tender by his cock. “Give it to me, Hobi. I want it all. All your kids.” 

He moans and proves it to you how weak he is by emanating such a pathetic sound that forces you, most saccharinely, to clench around him all over again, milking him out of every drop you stirred but never drank. 

And for it, Hobi marks you in the middle of your breasts. A big, red hickey, redolent of your raspberries. You hold him to your chest, like the Mommy he made you into, as he sucks onto your skin, nibbling, licking, the noises akin to blowing those raspberries while he makes sure the bruise lingers for as long as possible. Then, he travels to the peak of your left nipple, trailing his tongue flat over the curve on his way up, and you’re wet, bespeckled with his children that trickle out of you as another wave of sopping arousal comes over you, because he begins to make love to that stiffened pebble. You cry out, tug his ruined hair, try to tell him you can’t anymore and Hobi hears you, takes care of you. 

Drags his teeth along your nub. Flicks his eyes up to you as he sucks. “Milkie, please, Mommy.” 

You burst into a roaring laughter, your shoulders shaking, arousal erased, and Hobi chuckles, lifting himself onto his hands and kissing your forehead. He moves you to your side of the bed, your skin dry and scented by him, soothed by his natural scent and the residue of his patchouli fragrance. And you revel in it, as he leaves you for a moment to fetch some wet wipes, with which he, mirthlessly, cleans you off his stickiness. His aversion to it makes an indentation in his face as his brows curl downward, features solemn and terribly serious. 

Such an abrupt, speedy change of energy. Laughter dies out and fades into nothingness that spreads across your private atmosphere shared with him. Your mouth emulates the form of his dourness, cheerlessness blotching your now clean skin with invisible, downcast glitter that scarcely shines in the sunlight—and even that lessens, a cloud expanding over it, dimming it. 

You touch his face and he looks up. 

“Just a little more time and it’ll be here,” you say, seeping that hope, that promise into his pores by swiping your thumb along his warm cheek. “And then my belly will be big and full. And you’ll be Daddy Hobi.” 

He smiles, sadly, eyes glistening, and he kisses your nose, folding into your chest. You caress him, his hair, his back—discover plump, thick marks of your fingernails and you lighten your touch, barely grazing his skin with the tips of your fingers. When he resurfaces, another, different dents embellish his face—the fresh memory of the way he’s accepted hope on your bosom and you kiss him, sealing it. Kiss that downturned smile. That red nose, those brisk cheeks. And his eyelids, wetted by his eyelashes. 

“How do you like your coffee in the morning?” Hobi asks, turning over a new leaf, moving past. 

You brush his hair back, enjoying the silky feel of his strands slipping through your fingers. “With you.” 

He blushes, profusely, and you’re struck by the impression that he’s falling for you. There’s no fight this time, no war, only housewarming, submission and stability. You grip his hair, thank him with the silent gesture that also expresses how much it means to you because you, too, have fallen for him. With your heart, with your soul—with your entire being that has undergone so many transformations. 

Now you’re climbing a mountain with him and on its peak, your children, your home, your future await you. You’re almost there. You’ve become who you were meant to become and Hobi has received the promise of his deepest longing. 

One more thing, one more lift of the knee and you’re there, hand in hand with him—your husband, your God. 

He kisses you one last time, tells you to rest while he makes you coffee and breakfast. Hands you your phone. Helps you think of a short message that you immediately, without a thought spared, send. And while you lightly slumber, you dream of the promise, of the hope. Dream of your swollen belly, the ethereal picture revealing you looking at yourself in a floor-length mirror as Hobi stands behind you, assuaging you of the weight of your child by holding it with both of his hands, his imaginary wings, fully rosy, carrying half of it, folded over his knuckles, your fingers sunk between his and the feathers, silky, soft like his hair. It melts into another scene, in which you both hold the child, hip to hip, gazing at the mountain you climbed together once upon a time and the child, bearing a heavenly, delectable concoction of your and his features, cannot pull away their eyes from the peak. Their hair blows in the wind, rippling like their Father’s wings, and you and Hobi break their hypnotion by kissing each of their cheek. 

Hobi wakes you up with the same kiss—as if he was kissing you and not his child. And something about it heals you, gravely. 

You tell him about it over coffee and breakfast and he weeps. And while you weep with him, your tears fall for another, secret reason. For the period that you slept, Hobi baked vanilla pastries with raspberries and you would tell him about it, too, but you’d sit at the table all day. He has a curse to break and you don’t wish to prolong the time, not when you sense that it’s burdening him. 

Because his shirt is blood-splattered, he takes you to his house. And what you’ve never expected to happen—you meet his roommate. 

A munchkin cat with the littlest legs you’ve ever seen. Black and white coat blankets her chunky body and you sink onto your knees, extending your fingers to her tiny pink snout, just like her Daddy’s, and you die as the fur baby sniffs you and doesn’t run away in fear. It keeps smelling you in curiosity and you think it’s due to the fact she can recognize Hobi’s scent all over you. You’re so absorbed by the furry animal that you don’t even care to look around the vastness of its home and, like your child, you get broken out of the spell when Hobi chuckles. 

“Pet her. She likes you,” he says and you hear the familiar clanging of keys being set on the table, the leather of his wallet sliding along the wood and the thud of his phone as he empties out his pockets. 

Giddiness seizes you. 

You stroke down the baby’s fur on its head, cooing at its softness, at the way the wisps whirl in the air the more you pet it. And you squeal when she leans in into your touch as Hobi did not that long ago. Now you know who he gets it from. 

You take it into your arms, scratching its neck. It purrs and your heart springs, eager to embrace it. 

“Is it a boy or a girl?” you ask, enthralled by it, nuzzling your face into her fur. 

Hobi pets your head and you feel as small as the baby. You look up at him, knowing you radiate, visibly, the energy. He smiles down at you, shines down his love and joy clutches you so hard that you can’t breathe. 

“A girl,” he says, his smile widening, and before you can ask about her name, he already tells you. “Her name is Luna.” 

Luna. She’s your new best friend, your little baby, and you begin to entertain the idea of bringing her along to your misfit visit to your ex-boyfriend’s apartment because you can’t let go of her. Not when she purrs most homely, most happily. Not when she likes you so much that she’s not afraid of you. 

You haven’t grown up with animals, so when the opportunity comes and you get into contact with them, it’s difficult for you to unattach yourself from them.

Luna is yours now. 

Hobi pivots on his feet and you’re quick to scurry onto yours, following him into his bedroom. As you carry her, you take a moment to look around his living room. The color beige lines every detail of its spaciousness. From the walls, to the pigmentation of the stones that decorate the side, where a huge flatscreen hangs up, to the smooth floors that glow in the light. Beige, whites and grays, with the tiniest hints of browns, greens and yellows. Small plants and bigger palms sit in the corners, by the windows, and they give the room those colors—as well as his collection, which comes as the biggest surprise of all, of his modern art. You can see a rainbow of Bearbricks everywhere you look, especially in the brown kingdom of his bedroom. 

Those pretty one-eyed fuckers stare at you there. Along with their KAWS brothers. And they’re colossal. 

Hobi’s back faces you as he rummages in his closet. You kiss Luna on her empty head before you set her on the bed, walking over to Hobi amidst the dimmed light. His curtains are pulled in tight and you think about how he must’ve been getting ready for bed when he called you last night, only to sleep in your light-filled bed. You wrap your arms around him, too hasty with your need to give him your affection—you smear your foundation on his blue shirt, staining it further. And you kiss his back, planting a red lipstick mark right in the middle. It’s going in the laundry bin, anyway. 

Hobi reaches his hands back, fingers tapping along the open back of your white top, drumming there and you smile, finding it cute. 

“You really like those figurines,” you murmur, propping your chin on his spine, drumming your fingers on his abdomen in similar fashion. 

He laughs, softly, as if embarrassed, and you dig your claws, faintly, into his skin. No embarrassment for him—you’re not letting that in within him. 

“Don’t you fear they watch you while you sleep?” 

Now he laughs through his nose, swiveling his head halfway. “They’re my dream catchers.” 

You hum, endearingly, in high pitch, liking the sound of that. Wonder if he knows that he’s such a poet. “Everything you say is so poetic.” 

He massages your waist, deepening your hum. “Something tells me that’s your doing.” You punctuate the sound with a vulgar word and he squeezes the place he holds. No laughter, only alluring, affectionate seriousness. You sigh, blissfully. “I actually have a book of poetry here.” 

Your brows rise. “What?” 

Hobi clasps your hand, dragging you to his small library that is organized with his dream catchers. He pulls out a thick book with a white cover and hands it to you. 

Birthday letters by Ted Hughes. The husband of Sylvia Plath, the reason behind her suicide. The female poet who loved E. E. Cummings, the female poet, whom you loved, too, in your lonely girlhood. Who always inspired your longing to die as the curse over your life went on. 

It’s surreal to be holding a link to her when you’re standing at the end of the chapter of this curse. 

You didn’t die. 

You didn’t die. 

“I stole it from my school library,” Hobi explains with that lopsided smile of his, so fond, so full of old memories that you’re learning at this moment. Time stands still and you strain your ears, wanting to hear every syllable of it. “Everytime I would go hide there, mess around or just study, I’d always see this book. It would always be right in front of me. I thought, and I still do, that it has some kind of meaning. That it somehow needs to be in my life. So I took it. And it’s been here for more than a decade. I’ve never even read it.” 

You pout, touched by the symbolism, by the fact he never opened it. “Never?” 

Hobi shakes his head, shortly. “Never.” 

You look down at it, caress its cover. “Maybe it’s a dream catcher, too.” 

His mouth ends curl. “Open it. Read me something.” 

His fingers begin to undo the buttons of his shirt and you sense the magnetism of the symbolism attached to the book closing over you. You watch the work of his hands as you slip your digit into the middle of the book. Page one hundred and forty two. Portraits, the title of the unknown poem. But you don’t read it until he bares his chest and sits down on the edge of the bed. 

You stand between his outstretched legs. He rubs the back of your knees, waiting.

You skim your eyes over the page and break, prematurely. 

Licking your lips, you begin. 

“What happened to Howard’s portrait of you? / I wanted that painting.” 

You lose a breath, your throat constricting, and you gaze down at Hobi to see him lost in a thought that you can’t discern. 

Can he perceive the link? Does he realize who Howard is as you bring that poem into reality with your recitation? 

You continue, biting your lip, momentarily.

“Spirits helped Howard, ‘Sometimes / When I’m panting, I hear a voice, a / woman’s, / calling Howard, Howard — faint, / far-off, / fading.” 

Your phone dings in the front pocket of your ivory mini skirt—Howard has texted you back. The book droops out of your grasp as you fish out the device, your screen enveloping the room in a small twirl of brightness. 

Jungkook: my door is always open for you 

You pocket it back, the light snuffed out. The book quivers and you steady it with your other hand. “Jungkook texted me back.” 

Hobi is deathly still, in an uncanny way. “What did he say?” 

You lick your lips, but it’s not enough moisture. “That his door is always open for me.” 

He props an elbow on his knee, his teeth nibbling on a fleck of skin upon his thumb. “Keep reading.” 

Your breath shakes. You risk the question swathing your heart, needing to know whether you’re on the same page before you can go on. “Can you see the correlation?” 

He blinks, rapidly, as if awoken. “To what? You mean to the painting of you that I’m about to break?” 

You nod, relieved that he sees it, but the heaviness loiters. Slightly, you fear the next lines. “Jungkook is Howard.” 

His eyes stray, his being crestfallen, his mouth biting into his cuticle. He doesn’t say anything and you’re not sure if you should read on, but he taps the back of your knee that he still holds, propelling you to do so. 

In fact, he tugs on it, guiding you to sit on his thigh—like you did in your favorite reading armchair when you cleaned his wound. You flutter a kiss on the healing bruise that has the colors of his home and with a wet thumb, Hobi angles the book so he can read along with you, staining the page with his humanity, imprinting his presence, the gravity of the moment into it. 

It took a decade for the time to be right. Enough for him to read this. 

With you. 

You push away the panic regarding him not reacting to your affection, figuring the importance of this moment is held in higher regard. Clearing your throat, you continue. 

“He got carried away / When he started feeding his colors / into your image,” you stop, the words affecting your vocal cords with emotions. Hobi is the only one who knows what colors Jungkook used in the painting. How can a random page in a random book describe the flavor of the bane of the curse upon your life? How is it possible? You take a moment to regain your composure, willing smoothness into your voice. Hobi rubs your thigh with his hand, thumb tracing patterns, a help in need. “He glowed / At his crucible, on its tripod. / How many sessions? / Yaddo fall. Woodstoves. Rain, / Rain, rain in the conifers.” The rain that fell upon Hobi when you exited the museum after you talked to Jungkook. The rain that brought you closer to him as he shrouded you and himself in your trenchcoat. The memory is sweet, another help in need. 

“Tribal / conflict / Of crows and their echoes. You deepened. / Molten, luminous, looking at us / From that window of Howard’s vision of you.” 

Your scream in the middle of the night after that morning at the museum; the physical violence that followed after. The painting that was created in the same hours. 

“Yourself lifted out of yourself / in a flaming of oils, your lips exact.” 

The flaming of your reddened bum within Jungkook’s made-up world of the painting; the punishment that you broke out of his clutches and became your own person. 

You suddenly understand it, the painting. 

You feel sick. 

The poem is a maze, but Hobi looks as though he has the sixth sense that enables him to navigate through it. You’re burdened by your emotions, dragging your feet as you follow him, looking at him. He burns his sight into the scattered words, not breathing, not blinking, his thumb stuck in his mouth. He’s connecting the dots, the wheels turning in his brain. 

Luna crawls onto the other side of his lap, the third help in need. 

You take a deep breath. 

“Suddenly — ‘What’s that? Who’s that?’ / out of the gloomy neglected chamber behind you / Somebody had emerged, hunched, gloating at you, / Just behind your shoulder — a cowled / Humanoid of raggy shadows. Who?” 

The squeaks of breaks behind you, Jungkook stepping out of his car and joining the demon of shame looming at you, waiting for you to end your phone call with Hobi. 

“Howard was surprised. He smiled at it. / “If I see it there, I paint it. I like it / When things like that happen. He just came.’ / Came from where? Mystery smudge extra, / Stalking the glaze wetness / Of your new-fired idol brilliance. / I saw it with horrible premonition. / You were alone there, pregnant, and unprotected.” 

You snap the book shut, the lump in your throat so enormous in size that it alone begs you not to read on. Your chin quivers, but no tears come out, mind barren as the words alone, pregnant and unprotected echo within there. On an ungodly, immoral loop. 

Hobi takes the book from you and flings it into a corner of his room, hitting a lonesome gray figurine that topples over. Your eyes witness the movement, but you don’t grasp it. Numbness seizes you, the paralyzation of bizarreness that causes bile to push through the lump in your throat. 

You gag. 

“Where’s your bathroom?” 

Hobi is quick on his feet, but you don’t make it. The vomit spills through the cup of your palm over your mouth, staining your white top. Hobi carries you to his toilet, stained just the same. Holds your hair as you retch your guts out—the letters of the poem, the realization of its meaning, the symbolism, the raspberry pastries. Presses his lips against the nape of your neck, holding you together. 

Wipes your chin with toilet paper. Puts his plastic cup with cold water to your mouth to wash it clean with. 

Rips the three pages of the poem out of the spine of the book in taciturn fury, its ending never to be known.  

You watch him do it, with the same speechlessness, and you’re not sorry for the prosaic lawlessness—it strengthens you and it relieves you. Watch the tremor of his hands, after, as he constringes the poisonous papers in his fists. The book abandoned back in the corner with the figurine, vanquished. 

He paces the room, fleetingly, stopping in front of you. Gets on both of his knees. Grips your hands, with the crumpled papers. Kisses them. Over and over. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers onto them. The noise of the papers is like the shaking of leaves and you want to leave. You want this wretched thing settled. The smell of your puke hits your nostrils and it’s what prevents you from folding into him in the way he did this morning. 

“Nothing to be sorry for, baby. It’s fate,” you reassure, tearing the papers from his hold and throwing them away from his sight. Yours, too. It’s not his fault that the curse sneaked into something intimate he desired to share with you. But your heart aches that it did it before he knew you all those years ago, planted in its mind false beauty, only to cause ruination. You need it gone. “Help me take this off. Let’s go.” 

He sighs and the sadness of the sound deepens your ache, though all you can do is accept it and fight. The will is enough—if the conscious will is there, things will change, things will move forward and all will settle into place. 

Tomorrow will look different. 

Hobi dressed you in his clothing. A white linen shirt, to match your skirt. One would say it’s oversized, the way the fabric puffs and slides off your shoulder, not an item of masculine affection. You left your bra hanging by its strap on the handle of his closet. Left the buttons undone. Left the bruise between your breasts unconcealed, proudly, for every eye to see. He tied it in the middle, a tiny sliver of your midriff exposing tanned skin, because the hem would only bunch up the waistband of your skirt as it reached way down below. It could’ve been a dress alone, meant for loungewear, but you weren’t going to do much lounging. 

Hobi dressed you for war. 

He himself matched you. A white polo, beige pants, a vivid green beanie to hide the sweat coating his tousled hair. A king, ready to march. 

The king is dead, long live the king. 

You know the ending. You trust Hobi, you believe in him. So did Luna when he grabbed his keys, phone and wallet. She meowed so much encouragement that it curled a smile on yours and Hobi’s face. You nuzzled her, considering saying goodbye to her harder than facing Jungkook, the dead king, but her purring made it better. It was a promise that she would be here with another set of fluff balls of encouragement once you come back from the war. 

You thought the ride to Jungkook’s apartment would be silent, but no. Hobi put on his The Weeknd playlist, the dark, ambient songs from The Trilogy album saturating the shifting atmosphere. Placed his hand on your thigh while he drove. Things seemed normal as they did before shit hit the fan. Your body submitted to that impression and so you pretended it was so. Relived, quietly, in your mind the way you rubbed your clothed pussy on that very seat, steering him into insanity, which he controlled so well. 

A coping mechanism, that lustfulness. As you know it. But oddly, it didn’t turn you on. No, it composed you—tranquilized your emotions, so they wouldn’t be burdensome in the battle. 

“What are you thinking about?” Hobi asked, knowing he was five minutes away from Jungkook’s apartment. He didn’t live far away from him. 

Bizarreness.

He probably noticed your lack of visible reaction to your favorite singer. 

“I’m having flashbacks.” 

A beat of pause. “About?”

“About the way I drove you insane when I stuck my hand in my panties.” 

He hummed, softly, the noise barely audible. “You got so wet just from me praising you.” 

You sighed, delighted. “I did.” 

“I’ll never forget the fact that I ate you out first before I kissed you.” 

You smiled, wrapping your fingers around his wrist. “It comforts me,” you admitted, baring your private soul. “Sex. Lust. It’s not always dirty to me and it doesn’t always make me horny. It makes me feel safe.” 

He thought about your words, thumb searching for yours, waggling. You closed your palm over the back of his hand on the shift stick, hooking your thumb over his. 

“How did that painting make you feel?” 

You didn’t feel much. Just one singular emotion. “Furious.” 

“Why?” 

“It makes me angry that he thinks he still has a right to control my life. That he took what I consider to be safe and made it unsafe.”

He ruined the act of spanking for Hobi, which ultimately ruined it for you. It scarred him enough that he wasn’t able to do it to you when you asked him. And for that, you’ll never be able to forgive Jungkook.  

Hobi clenched his jaw. “When we get inside, I want you to think twice before you look at that painting. You’ve gone through a lot these past twenty-four hours. Put your well-being first, okay?” 

Your veins pump warmth into your heavy heart due to his care and you kiss his knuckles, leaning your cheek into them. “Okay.” 

“Good. I’ll break it anyways.”

The deal rings in the hallway as you walk towards his door, Hobi two steps behind you, obfuscating his presence. You rack your knuckles on the wood, your stomach rolling, your blood curdling into bits of frozen cranberries, and your lungs lack air. You don’t know if you can do this, if you can be posturing stoicness when the threat is right in front of you. You wish Luna were here with you, her fluffy wisps a reminder of her encouragement. You can’t even find her on the material of your skirt, for she’s as much clothed in white as you. 

The door opens, revealing a distressed, wrinkly Jungkook with the stars in his eyes tear-stained. The lines of his sleep shoot across his bare chest, down to his abdomen that he sucks in at the sight of you. And you don’t hate him for the way his eyes skip to the bruise in the middle of your breasts—because it were your eyes first that skimmed that low on him first. 

Shame stops your blood flow, which restores your forgotten memory of how further aroused your body became when you saw his excited manhood in the picture he sent you. It floods back at full speed, in tandem with the bile in your throat. 

“I didn’t expect you to come over so soon,” he says, confusion rasping his tone, and his wide eyes narrow once they whisk to a taller head behind you. He doesn’t say anything to acknowledge his presence, despite the fact you expected that much from him. A rude remark, the closing of doors. Anything but him opening the door wider and turning around, wordlessly inviting you in. 

And Hobi. 

The bile lowers. You exchange a worried look with him, but he runs a hand down the length of your hair upon your back. 

Bloodthirst flashes in his eyes. 

And you’re no longer sure if his plan is the right one to unravel. 

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[ficnation]

Chapter 8: Devour

Series: “Eat Your Heart Out” Pairing: Hannibal Lecter x Female! Reader x Will Graham Word count: 4,3k+ Warnings: canon-typical warnings, canon divergence A/n: Here we go! A part of Su-zakana and we're slowly diving into our connection with Hannibal (unedited)

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You return home with Will that night after a long day of investigating the crime scene, only to find the house empty and the shadows of night already filling the rooms. The air carries a stillness, as if the house is holding its breath in anticipation of something—perhaps in preparation for what comes next.

The dogs are sleeping peacefully by the fire, their heads lifting with perked-up ears as they sense an intruder. But once they notice their owners, they just wag their tails and shortly after, return to sleep, reassured by your presence.

“Let’s talk then,” Will says, his voice quiet yet determined as he breaks the silence that hangs heavy in the air.

Your heart skips a beat at his words, a flutter of anticipation mingled with apprehension. This is the moment you’ve both been avoiding yet yearning for—the inevitable confrontation. With a steadying breath, you gather your courage, readying yourself.

You step further into the house, shedding your coat and snowy boots, feeling the weight of the day lift as you leave the wintry chill behind.

“I thought the only thing that could haunt my dreams is my sister’s death,” you admit, your voice tinged with a hint of vulnerability as you confront the unsettling thoughts that have been plaguing you.

“Is it your father?” Will asks, his tone gentle yet probing.

“He was an asshole,” you reply bluntly, a trace of bitterness creeping into your voice as you recall the painful memories associated with that poor excuse of a man.

“I know. That’s why I’m asking.”

“He doesn’t deserve to be in my nightmares. I don’t even think about him, Will,” you insist, the words tasting bitter on your tongue, knowing all too well that it’s a lie. The weight of unspoken truths hangs heavy in the air between you both. You can’t ever tell him the truth.

A flash of understanding crosses Will’s face as he takes in your words. Unlike most people, he can see through your denial, knowing that there’s more to your feelings than you’re letting on.

He studies your expression for a moment in consideration before speaking again, his tone laced with tenderness. “You do think about him, don’t you?” he asks quietly, his eyes searching yours for confirmation.

You turn around instantly to avoid his gaze, walking over to the bed and plopping down on it with a heavy sigh, the weight of those words bearing down on you like a crushing burden. You change the course of the conversation. “It’s… It’s Hannibal.”

“He’s in your nightmares?”

“He never leaves them,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper, the truth hanging heavy in the air between you and Will. The mere thought of Hannibal’s presence infiltrating your dreams sends a shiver down your spine, reminding you of the insidious grip he still holds on your psyche. “He appears as this black creature, its eyes so black they resemble holes, a giant set of antlers growing out of its skull. In one of them, it impaled my hands on them.”

There’s a spark of recognition in Will’s eyes. He used to have them too, but they subsided once you came back. He knows this monster very well; it’s engraved in his memory. The shadow of Hannibal Lecter looms large over both of your lives, leaving an indelible mark that cannot be easily erased.

“Left me hanging there, face to face with this thing. Blood running down my arms...” You let out a trembly sigh. “The worst part is, there’s no pain. No distraction. It’s just me and him.”

He knows full well what it’s like to have Hannibal’s monstrous presence seep its way into your nightmares, haunting your sleep with his malevolent presence.

“You’re trapped,” he observes softly, his tone touched with empathy, “with him.”

Will joins you on the bed with a heavy sigh. He reaches out to offer you his hand, the gesture filled with an underlying sentiment of comfort and reassurance. His hands are cold—a grounding kind of chilliness.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have dragged you into this.”

“You didn’t drag me into anything, Will. We’re in this together,” you assure him, your voice steady despite the lingering unease in your heart. “And we’ll find a way to face it together.”

“It’s not good for you. I see it so clearly.”

You see it too, more than clearly. Hannibal Lecter should never have entered your life, and you should never have entered his.

You’re not sure if it’s something particular he did, but it’s not just your nightmares he occupies—it’s your thoughts and fantasies. It fills your mind with immeasurable guilt because how could you do that to Will? How could you think about someone other than him like that?

From the moment you met Will Graham, you knew he was your everything. No man has ever come close to filling the void in your soul that he filled. No man has ever engraved himself in your memory like Will did. He was truly your everything. And now? Hannibal Lecter occupies your thoughts just as much as Will does—it’s unnerving.

“I don’t know what to do,” he admits, head bowed in defeat, so you reach out and raise it with your fingers gently gripping his chin.

“We keep moving forward, Will,” you say softly, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek as light as a butterfly’s touch. “If you want to help all those people then let him devour us. Let him pray we’re not poisonous.”

“Literally?”

“Not literally, you fool.”

A few days later, you find yourself in front of Hannibal Lecter’s office, patiently waiting for his patient to emerge. You hadn’t expected to end up here at all, nor did you anticipate being the one to seek him out. How the tables have turned...

The young woman exits the room just twenty minutes later. She doesn’t rush, taking her sweet time to put her coat on and greet you with a “good evening” that sounds just a tiny bit snobbish. You wish you had you had the same luxury of time to savor such small moments.

The sound of your knuckles rapping against the wooden door echoes through the corridor. You wait patiently, anticipation stirring within you as you wonder how Hannibal will receive your unexpected visit.

A faint “come in” follows from within.

You push open the door, stepping into Hannibal Lecter’s office with a mixture of apprehension and determination. The room is bathed in soft lamplight, casting long shadows across the elegant furnishings. Hannibal sits behind his desk, his posture relaxed yet attentive as he regards you with a curious gaze.

“Mrs. Graham, I didn’t expect you,” Hannibal’s voice is smooth and composed, betraying little of his inner thoughts. You offer a polite smile, though inside, your nerves are coiled tight.

“I didn’t expect to end up here today either,” you admit. It’s the truth. You don’t have any idea why you’re here.

“Perhaps you’re here to talk about Will?” Hannibal suggests, his tone measured and probing, yet not demanding. He appears content merely with your presence.

“I’m really not sure,” you confess with a quiet chuckle, the sound barely audible in the air between you.

“Would you like to take a seat?”

“I’d like that,” you respond a bit too quickly, mentally cursing yourself for the slight hint of eagerness in your voice. “If you don’t have another patient waiting, of course.”

“I’m done for the day,” he says with a smile that tells you he definitely noticed your tone. That’s not good. Or maybe it is?

You take a seat in one of the armchairs, crossing your legs and looking at him expectantly. With a deep breath, you let your shoulders relax slightly. Hannibal takes the other armchair and mirrors your posture, crossing his legs and folding his hands atop them in a manner that echoes your own.

“Something tells me you’re not here because of Will.”

“You might be right about that.”

“Then why are you here, Mrs. Graham?” Hannibal inquires, his tone soft but curious, his gaze fixed on you with an intensity that makes you feel like he’s peeling back layers of your psyche yet again. “Because of our unfinished conversation, perhaps?”

“Do you consider it unfinished?” You tilt your head slightly, a ghost of a smile playing over your lips.

“Indeed,” Hannibal responds, his own lips curving into a faint smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Our last discussion left many avenues unexplored, wouldn’t you agree?”

“I believe the last thing I asked about was the purpose of your previous visit,” you say, your tone measured and composed.

“I recall that,” Hannibal acknowledges with a nod. “A valid inquiry, indeed.”

You nod your head and look at him expectantly, feeling a quiet buzzing in the back of your head. The black creature stands behind Hannibal, expressionless and looming like a silent sentinel. You discreetly rub your eyes with your fingers, not expecting it to help, but to your surprise, it does. The monster is gone, leaving not even a shadow after its disappearance.

“Would you like me to be perfectly honest with you?” 

You take a moment to gather your thoughts, weighing your words carefully before responding. “Yes, please,” you reply, meeting Hannibal’s gaze with unwavering determination. You brace yourself for whatever truth he’s about to reveal.

“I’ve been Will’s therapist for a while,” he begins, his hands finding their rightful place on the armrests. You can’t help but notice how majestic he looks in his domain. “You seem to be a person of significant importance in his life. Yet, I haven’t heard much about you. Not until recently, and even now, Will seems to be avoiding discussing your role in his life.”

Hannibal meets your gaze head-on, boring into your soul. His stare alone makes you want to tell him everything—things he’s not supposed to know and things he has no right to know.

You remember the words you said to Will. They echo in your head, bouncing off the walls of your skull. Let him devour us. Let him pray we’re not poisonous. They dissipate as you draw in a deep breath and release it slowly.

“Our paths to this moment haven’t exactly been peaceful,” you admit, idly playing with the edge of your skirt—not out of nerves, but to subtly direct Hannibal’s attention there.

The tactic proves effective as his gaze follows the movement, tracing down the length of your crossed legs to the black heels you wore during the dinner at his place. You’re almost certain it triggers memories of that day—the elegant green dress, the atmosphere thick with tension and intrigue.

You hold his gaze steadily, letting the silence stretch between you as you wait for him to respond. There’s a tension in the air, a palpable energy that crackles with anticipation.

Hannibal’s lips curve into a faint smile, a glint of amusement dancing in his eyes as he meets your gaze once more. “Ah, the witness protection program,” he muses, his tone laced with intrigue. “It certainly has a way of reshaping one’s path, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, it does,” you agree, a hint of mystery in your tone. “You might be surprised to find out just how much.”

Hannibal’s smile widens slightly. “Not a lot of things surprise me anymore, Mrs. Graham.”

You lean just a little bit closer in the armchair, your eyes narrowing slightly as you focus on Hannibal. There’s a sense of anticipation in the air, as if you’re both teetering on the edge of a revelation.

“I see what Will sees in you,” he says, his tone soft yet filled with depth, as if acknowledging a truth that transcends mere observation. 

Hannibal’s gaze holds yours, his expression unreadable yet strangely intense. It’s as if he’s peering into the depths of your soul, searching for something that even you might not fully understand.

“Do you, Doctor Lecter?”

“Indeed, Mrs. Graham,” he replies, unwavering.

The air between you crackles with tension, igniting sparks that dance between the two of you. Despite being different people, there’s an undeniable similarity that hangs between you, palpable even without knowing him intimately.

“Would you like to tell me more about your time in witness protection?”

Hannibal’s question catches you off guard. You blink rapidly, surprised by his inquiry. You had hoped he would honor the unspoken promise he made to Will, naively believing he wouldn’t pry into the matter. Wrong. 

“It’s been peaceful. Tough to leave everything and everyone behind, but not working in the FBI has been a blessing,” you respond, offering a brief summary of your experience.

“But now you’re back in the field, why?”

“Curiosity, perhaps. A desire to be part of something meaningful again,” you reply, keeping your answer vague yet suggestive.

Hannibal shakes his head with a quiet chuckle. “You’re quite good at deception, aren’t you?”

Your mouth quirks up in amusement that he figured you out so easily. For some reason, it doesn’t make you sweat as it should. If he could uncover your lie that quickly, it meant he could unearth much more with just as much ease. It definitely should make you nervous.

“That’s what working in the BAU does to you,” you reply with a wry smile, hoping to brush off any further questions. “Makes lying your second nature.”

“You don’t have to lie to me, my dear.”

My dear—the nickname reverbarates in your mind, melting your brain with it’s sweet tone. I shouldn’t be here. Your cheeks flush with warmth, a sensation you’re not particularly fond of. You’re no longer a young schoolgirl harboring a crush on her professor. You shouldn’t feel like this.

Hannibal lets his eyes stray toward the elegant watch on his wrist, his lips pressing into a thin line. Hannibal sighs deeply, his gaze filled with longing as it returns to your face. Such a beautiful creature, he muses silently.

“I’m afraid our meeting must come to an end sooner than I’d like,” Hannibal explains, a regretful tone in his voice. “Time seems to slip away all too quickly in our conversations.”

Thank heavens.

“I understand,” you reply, masking a pinch of disappointment that creeps into your heart. “Thank you for your time, Doctor Lecter.”

“It’s Hannibal,” he reminds you with a hint of amusement in his voice.

“Hannibal,” you murmur his name, tasting it on your tongue yet again as you stand up, smoothing out your skirt. “We’ll meet again very soon.”

Knocking on the door of the stranger’s shed elicits a cacophony of barks and screeches from the animals inside, their alarm evident. You lock eyes with Will inquisitively. You were well-acquainted with the case of Sarah Craber’s murder and the circumstances surrounding the discovery of her body. It was poetic. Not beautiful, but undeniably poetic.

When no one appears in the doorway, you let yourself in reluctantly. You follow Jack and Will inside, making a point to be the last one to enter. It generally makes you appear less threatening.

“Scare them when ya knock like that,” the manly voice is uninvating, perhaps carrying a hint of shyness.

“Apologies for the disturbance,” you offer with a polite nod, acknowledging the man’s comment and the subtle hint of shyness in his voice.

Jack simply shakes his head, still not accustomed to your courteous approach with suspects and witnesses. He’s always leaned towards a more direct method, but he couldn’t deny the effectiveness of your approach, which often yielded the best results.

“Peter Bernardone?” Jack questions.

The man in question reacts suspiciously, awkwardly turning his back toward your little group, trying to avoid your eyes.

“Sir?” Jack tries again, while you and Will exchange uncertain glances, unsure of how to react. “You don’t seem to be curious about who we are.”

“Who are you?” he mutters, barely audible. It’s evident that the question is forced out of him—an awkward effort not to appear suspicious.

“I’m Agent Jack Crawford with the FBI. This is Will Graham and Agent Avant,” he introduces you to the man. You walk around the small building, observing the various animals in cages. The place feels familiar, although you’re certain you’ve never been here before. Perhaps it’s these creatures that remind you of Will’s habit of collecting stray dogs.

“We’re here to ask you some questions about someone you may have had contact with when you worked at the Blackbriar Stables. A woman named Sarah Craber. Her body was recently found… in unusual circumstances.”

“I know,” Peter Bernardone interjects, sounding just a little guilty. “I know. I heard.”

You lean over one of the cages, locking eyes with a white rabbit. Its red eye resembles a small bead, peering straight at you yet seeming to look right through you at the same time. It’s beautiful yet unsettling. You’re glad Will takes in dogs and not bunnies.

“There was a bird in her chest. Did you hear about that?” Will looks around the shed before his gaze finds you, a small quirk of his mouth appearing when he notices you leaning over one of the cages, observing the little creature.

“Was the bird alive?” the man questions, more concerned about the animal than about the dead woman.

This question seems to catch all of your attention, as you look at Bernardone, surprised and intrigued, as do Jack and Will. Crawford wears a smugness in his expression that seems to say, “I told you so.”

“Yes.”

The man staggers, “Who— who— who taking care of the bird?”

You feel a pang of sympathy for him, for reasons you can’t quite articulate. You probably shouldn’t, but you can’t help it. You can’t fathom him strangling an innocent girl to death. Yet, the world is cruel and deceptive, and even the most innocent-looking people can be capable of terrible things. People are flawed, and God knows that His creations can act worse than animals at times.

“Don’t worry about it, Mr. Bernardone. We wouldn’t leave it to die,” you reassure him, gently inserting your finger between the metal rods of the cage to stroke the soft, white fur of the animal. You smile when it doesn’t shy away.

The man’s shoulders drop a little in relief. A good sign.

“How well did you know Sarah Craber?” Jack questions.

“I didn’t know her,” Peter shakes his head, still avoiding eye contact with any of you.

Jack takes a step closer, and Peter freezes, looking like a deer caught in headlights, unsure where to direct his gaze or where to move. 

“Would you mind looking at a photograph?” your boss persists.

“I—” Peter stammers once more, his voice barely above a mumble. “I know who she is. I didn’t— I didn’t know her.”

Will and Jack exchange a silent glance, piquing your interest more than the rabbit, so you decide to leave it alone. You step a little closer, joining Will by his side. His hand reaches for yours, clad in warm gloves. 

“Just… take a look to be sure.” Jack reaches out his hand, holding the photograph out toward Peter.

It takes a moment before he finally extends his hand for the photo, his head turned in the other direction.

“I feel bad for him,” you whisper to Will, low enough not to be heard by the two other men.

“I do too,” Will responds softly, his voice carrying a hint of empathy as he grips your fingers just a little tighter.

Peter glances at the picture of Sarah Craber for a fleeting moment, his brain seemingly struggling to process the image before he returns it with an outstretched hand, his head once again turned away, eyes closed shut. 

Will’s eyes dart between Jack and Peter, his gaze shifting rapidly as he processes the interaction, piecing together the puzzle before him. “Did you get your head injury when you were working at the stables, Peter?”

The man in question point his finger at his head. “Yeah, okay. Kicked by a horse. Boom.”

“That’s an atypical motor response,” Will concludes, taking a step closer. “Peter’s abilities to look and touch can only happen as separate events.”

It all makes sense now.

“It’s aggravated by stress, right?”

“Are you feeling stressed, Mr. Bernardone?” you inquire in a gentle tone.

“Yeah, I’m worried about the bird.”

“Would you like us to bring it to you?”

The man doesn’t meet your gaze, his head bowed and his eyes blinking rapidly. He’s clearly overwhelmed by the situation, with too many questions and unfamiliar faces and voices.

“Yes. Worried about the bird. I’m sad for her death, sad for the horse, but I…” He looks at Will then at you. “I can only help the bird.”

As you exit the building, you can’t help but hope for the chance to visit again, under much kinder circumstances. You’re sure Peter Bernardone isn’t the killer, and Will seems to share your conclusion.

“I don’t know if he’s the killer, Jack,” he says, uncertainty shading his tone. He exhales, the breath visible in the cold air as a puff of fog. “If he is, he never meant to be. And if he isn’t, he knows who is.”

“He’s not the killer,” you affirm, your voice carrying a tone of conviction stronger than Will’s.

You don’t say anything else, tucking your hands into the pockets of your black coat as you stride toward Jack’s car, a quiet whistle escaping your lips. The icy air nips at your cheeks and nose. God, I wish I were sunbathing in the Bahamas.

The Chinese food lacks its usual flavor, failing to satisfy your appetite as it typically does. Seated cross-legged on the floor in front of the fireplace, you absentmindedly poke at your pasta with chopsticks, lacking the usual enthusiasm for your meal.

“What’s wrong?” Will asks, his posture relaxed as he sits slouched in the armchair nearby, clearly not sharing your lack of enthusiasm.

You sigh deeply, punctuating your discontent with the last stab of the chopsticks into the takeout box before rising to your feet. With a resigned shrug, you leave it perched on the windowsill behind Will’s armchair, a silent testament to your waning appetite. You return to your previously occupied spot on the carpet, folding your legs beneath you as you settle back down, the fire casting a warm glow over the room.

“Jack’s got me looking at dead bodies again. Makes me wanna throw up,” you admit, the words carrying a hint of frustration and discomfort.

Will stops his movements, chopsticks halfway in the air, his gaze shifting from the food to you.

“You were supposed to work with the witnesses and suspects only,” he says, his tone tinged with more than annoyance as he lets the food fall back into the small box and leaves it on the windowsill next to yours.

“I thought so too. Turns out Jack doesn’t really keep his promises.”

“That’s not okay.”

“It’s not,” you agree, glancing at him in your peripheral vision.

The silence stretches between the two of you as you both gaze into the dancing flames of the fire. The crackling of the fire fills the room, punctuating the quiet tension that hangs in the air. Each flicker of the flames casts fleeting shadows across the walls, adding to the somber atmosphere. Despite the warmth emanating from the hearth, a chill seems to settle in the room, matching the unease that lingers between you and Will.

“I went to see Hannibal,” you confess, your voice breaking the silence with an impulsive urgency.

Will’s expression shifts subtly, a mix of surprise and curiosity flashing across his features before he masks it with a neutral facade. “Why?” he asks, his tone carefully measured.

“I don’t know.”

“Curiosity?”

“Might be.”

Will nods slowly, his eyes studying you intently. “What did you two talk about?”

As you sit in the flickering glow of the fire, contemplating your words, Will’s attention shifts fully to you, his expression a mixture of curiosity and concern. He leans forward slightly, waiting for you to continue, his eyes searching your face for even a little hint.

“You and me, our paths.”

Will nods slowly, his gaze still fixed on you, waiting for you to elaborate. The weight of his silent anticipation hangs heavy in the air, urging you to delve deeper into your thoughts.

You take a deep breath, gathering your thoughts before continuing. “Our paths, they seem to keep intersecting, don’t they? Whether by fate or some other force, we’re constantly drawn together, tangled in each other’s lives.” You pause, searching for the right words to convey the complexity of your connection with Will. “It’s like we’re two parallel lines that can never quite stay apart, no matter how much we try.”

“We’re intertwined in ways that neither of us fully understands,” you continue, your voice carrying a mixture of resignation and longing. “And sometimes, I wonder if that’s a good thing or a curse. But regardless, here we are, facing whatever comes our way together.”

The man nods silently, his expression reflecting surprise at your mention of fate. It’s been some time since you broached the topic, and he had assumed you no longer believed in its influence. Yet, as he considers your words, he realizes he’s pondered the same question himself on numerous occasions.

A blessing or a curse. Will is not offended in the slightest. You clashed on more than one occasion, burning down anything that crossed you paths at the wrong time. Yet, you always end up together, as if some unseen force continually draws you back into each other’s orbit.

You offer a small smile in response to his silent acknowledgment, realizing that perhaps there’s more to your connection than mere coincidence or happenstance. Despite the uncertainties and complexities of your relationship, there’s a shared understanding that binds you together, transcending the barriers of logic and reason.

“I love you, Will. With all my heart.”

“Well… I’m sure you can’t love me more than I love you. I’ve waited for you my whole life.”

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Leave me an ask or a comment if I forgot to add you <3

[raspberrybesitos]

Woven in the Stars | din djarin x f!reader

Series masterlist | Main masterlist

Chapter 2 - Cosmically Sewn

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Word count: ~4k

Chapter summary: Din returns to town with Grogu, meeting with you to get custom clothes. Getting acquainted with the pair, you strike up an offer that could bring you and Din even closer. Will Din accept?

Chapter warnings: slow burn, mutual pining, dad!Din, flirting, one (1) use of the word “daddy” in a nonsexual way, reader refers to Din as ‘Mando’ (for now 🤭), POV switching, inaccurate star wars info, liberties taken with the Creed, reader is female, no mention of hair type/skin color/body type, NO USE OF Y/N, none really mostly just pining and fluff

A/N: hi everybody!!! tank you for sticking with me, life has been so hectic lately to say the least 🙃 but these two are finally acquainted with one another! the smut will happen eventually so bear with me y’all! i will throw y’all a bone occasionally, but the freak narsty smut happens all at the end. gotta let these two babies pine and let that slow burn burnnnn! can y’all sense i’m a sucker for the buildup? hehehe anyway i hope y’all enjoy! 🩵 not beta'd, all mistakes are my own.

Divider by @saradika

the first emboldened word = Din’s POV

the first italicized word = Your POV

Stirring in the plush, handsewn sheets, Din’s eyes flutter open, adjusting to the beaming sunlight. Groaning, he huffs as he rubs the shadow of stubble growing on his face, as he recalls what he did last night before falling asleep. Dread washes over him as he thinks of how he has to face you at the market later.

With a deep sigh, he rises from the bed and tidily makes his bed before padding into Grogu’s room. Thankfully, he’s still sleeping, still cuddled up with the stuffed bantha you gave to him.

You are everywhere he looks. How have you infiltrated his mind so quickly?

Din heads down the hall and into the refresher, opting to take a long shower while Grogu still sleeps. The scalding water soothes the dull aches that still linger in his body from years of battling. He scrubs hard, attempting to wash away what he did last night, the guilt and shame.

He shuts the water off and dries off before trudging back down the hall and into his room. As he slips on his flight suit, soft coos make his ears perk up. He smooths out the wrinkles in his shirt as he goes to peer into Grogu’s room. The child now wide awake and still gripping onto the bantha. He squeals at the sight of his father, hands up and stretched forward. 

Din cradles him in one arm as he walks out into the kitchen, starting their daily routine. One that consists of breakfast for Grogu, and sometimes Din. If he’s not eating breakfast with his son, he’s usually doing some work - whether that be house work or having comm link meetings with Teva or Karga.

Today, it’s just breakfast for the two of them. Grogu brushes the stubble on his father’s face while he prepares their meal. In the past, he’d tell Grogu to stop touching his helmet. Things have changed.

Din no longer wears his helmet around Grogu so long as they’re alone in their home. He’s part of his clan now, having adopted him. Seeing that Bo-Katan and a few others who’ve walked both worlds, and being exposed to different Mandalorians who practice the culture differently, he’s decided to take some liberties with the Creed. He wants his son to see him, all of him after losing him once. Also, Grogu is still far too young to partake in the Creed, so he should be allowed to see his father.

He prepares breakfast for the both of them, sitting Grogu down in his chair as he serves them both. His son squeals as his father serves him and sits beside him. Mirroring each other, the clan eats in silence. Grogu busies himself with his meal, completely oblivious to his spiraling father.

How is he supposed to face you again today? Why did he do that last night? Maker, he needs to regain his sense of self control. He knew domestic life was going to be an adjustment, but he didn’t think he’d let himself slip up so easily, so quickly. For stars sake, he’s already thinking about sharing a life with someone, with you. He has other things to take care of before he can even give that a second thought. Like settling in, helping Grogu adjust to this new life, prioritizing his contract work with Teva, and the occasional tasks from Karga. He hopes he can act normally today. You caught him off guard yesterday, but hopefully he can prepare himself to see your beautiful face.

A whine pulls him from his thoughts. Grogu has crawled into his lap, pouting up at him with those big brown eyes, meaning he’s still hungry. Din hands him his spoon, and turns him around to face the table. Grogu squeals with delight as he rapidly devours the rest of his father’s food. 

With a tiny burp, Grogu plops down into Din’s lap and sinks into the warmth of his chest. Din rises to his feet and pads into his son’s room, cleaning him up and changing him into a spare tunic. He settles Grogu in his pram, nuzzling the new stuffed bantha that he’s quickly attached to next to him, and walks across the hall to put on his armor.

As he reaches for his helmet, he calls out for Grogu before placing it on his head. “Come on, Grogu, let’s go.” A hissing sound erupts as he slips his helmet on, and he rushes back into the living room, slinging the sack over his shoulder while Grogu plays in the pram with his bantha. Another reminder of you, he exhales a deep modulated sigh as he braces himself for a day at the plaza. Embarrassment coursing through him as he and Grogu head out the door and off on their journey for today.

Maker give him strength.

The town bustles as the sweltering sun beams down onto the plaza. Setting up the last display at your textile stall, you wipe the bead of sweat that’s formed at your brow. Mando is supposed to return with Grogu today, making you feel particularly giddy about seeing the mandalorian again. You’ve heard tales about mandalorians your whole life, and have even seen some in passing having lived on Nevarro for a few years now. However, something about him was so enthralling.

You couldn’t place it. Perhaps it was the way he was so caring and gentle with his son, or perhaps it was his demeanor which was surprisingly a lot more open than you had expected. Most encounters with mandalorians are short, as they are not people of many words - but not with him. Something about the man in beskar has captivated you, unable to shake him from your head since meeting him yesterday.

Subconsciously, you’ve never taken this much interest in a commission before. You’d even selected an array of fabrics for him to choose from for Grogu. You tell yourself it’s because of the unorthodox, sweet duo. The green baby having captured your heart the second you laid eyes on him, his curious eyes wandering and babbles that escaped him having tugged at your heart strings. You wondered how he ended up with his father, the resemblance between them obviously nonexistent, but you didn’t ask. It’s not your place to know, let alone judge, unless Mando feels comfortable telling you.

You should know better than anyone how complicated familial relationships can be. That family does not always correlate to blood relation, being adopted since birth after your biological parents had given you up to your mother and father. You believe that the stars lead you to people. They lead you to your family - your parents, your brother, your sisters. You are their daughter, their sister despite what biology may say.

Oh how you miss them all so much. What you’d give to see them again. You hope they’re alright, that the krayt dragon hasn’t reached them despite all the time that has passed.

Biting back tears, you shake your head and pack the selected textiles into a box and place them in your home-turned-shop. Working out of your home has its perks - never having to leave. It’s also got its downsides with the lack of space. It can get crammed sometimes, and it’s hard to not bring work home with you - literally and figuratively. Big commissions can be stressful, and dealing with a particularly aggravating vendor neighbor doesn’t help.

Recounting your last encounter with him, it was thankfully diffused quickly by your other neighbors. He’d yelled at some innocent kids who were eyeing the fruits he sells, calling them thieves and accusing everyone of being one after he’d had a few pieces of fruit stolen from his stand. You’d intervened first, scolded him for yelling at children and consoling them by offering them some candy from your stash. Thankfully the other neighbors despised him as well and jumped into your’s and the children’s defenses. He backed off and hasn’t said anything since. Hopefully it stays that way. 

Thank the Maker he doesn’t actually live next to you.

The sound of your name pulls you from your recollection and back into reality. You rush outside and your breath hitches in your throat. There he is, in all his shiny glory. If he’s this captivating with his helmet on, you can’t help but wonder what he looks like underneath it.

You wave at them, beaming as Grogu returns a wave with his tiny hand as he holds the stuffed bantha you gifted him just yesterday. Din desperately tries to keep his composure as he approaches you, trying not to think of what he’d done last night. His hands having grown clammy under his gloves, his helmet suddenly feeling hotter as the sight of you sends his head spinning.

You’re radiant, as if you belong in the stars in the evening skies - outshining every galaxy he’s ever seen. Your energy is infectious, making his heartbeat stutter. 

“Hi, baby! I see you brought your new toy with you! Do you like it?” You ask, voice full of glee. Grogu happily garbles an incomprehensible response, but you take it as a ‘yes’ and burst into a fit of giggles. Your laugh like music to his ears, he bites back a groan under his helmet. 

Is there any part of you that isn’t beautiful?

“Hi, Mando,” you giggle. It sucks the air out of his lungs hearing your breathy laugh and his name from your lips. Sweat forms on his brow and he wishes he could wipe it away. He fidgets with his holster, giving you a nod. “Hi, cyar’ika,” he nervously stammers, the affectionate name having escaped his mouth without thinking. Your brow quirks as your lips pull into a grin. “I’ve never heard that before. Is that your native tongue?” You inquire, fully intrigued by the name.

Fuck. He didn’t mean to let the name slip.

“It is. It’s Mando’a, the language of my people.” Your smile grows larger, making Din’s heart beat faster and body grow hotter. “It sounds lovely! What does that word mean? Should I be insulted?” You playfully tease him. Unbeknownst to you, his eyes bug out of his head as his cheeks grow red. “What? No, it was not an insult, I promise. It means, uh… it means ‘friend,’” he lies. You nod, narrowing your eyes at him as if you don’t believe him.

“Okay. If you say so, Mando,” you tell him, coyly winking at him. He clears his throat as awkward tension fills the silence between you two.

Grogu’s squealing breaks the tension, making you laugh. “You ready for some new clothes, baby?!” You ask him, scooping him up from his pram, eliciting a giggle from the baby. 

His heart feels like it’s going to burst through the beskar.

Tickling the child, he laughs excitedly as you set him on one of the tables at your stall. “Wait here,” you tell the clan as you disappear into your studio. You return with a box containing something. You place the box on the table, Grogu cooing in curiosity. Din tilts his head to the side. 

“What’s this?” He asks, making you beam. 

“I hope you don’t mind, but I selected some fabrics for you to choose from based on what he was wearing yesterday! But also, please feel free to browse around the other selections,” you explain with a sparkle in your eyes as you smile at him, laughing as Grogu grabs one of your fingers to balance himself as he wobbles to the box.

He’s undeserving of your kindness, unable to fathom what he’s done to be on the receiving end of it.

“You didn’t have to do that, cyar’ika,” he nearly whispers. Your face is beginning to ache with the amount you’ve been smiling since he arrived. “It was no problem, Mando. I hope you like some of the selections. You can tell me if you don’t, you can be honest with me. Trust me, I can take it,” you tell him with a coy smile and a wink, making him suck in a sharp breath.

Keep it together, Din.

“Th-they’re lovely, cyar’ika. Thank you very much, I’m perfectly happy with any of the fabrics you’ve chosen,” he tells you. “Are you sure? Because I-I can pick out some more,” you say timidly.

Is he making you flustered? No. There’s no way.

“No need. They’re perfect.” You give him a nod and tuck your bottom lip between your teeth. “How about we let Grogu choose his favorites from the pile?” He says, subconsciously inching closer to you. “O-Okay,” you stutter.

You bend down to meet Grogu’s height. “Grogu! Which one do you like, baby?” You gently ask him as you hold up two pieces of fabric for him to choose from. He points to one in your left hand with a grunt. You repeat the process two more times, the smile never leaving yours or Din’s faces.

He watches quietly as you swipe your measuring tape from your apron, wrapping it around Grogu who garbles in confusion as he wonders what’s going on. He looks up at you with his big brown eyes, tiny teeth peeking out from his mouth. You smile and scrunch your nose at him, speaking to him about different things like toys, candy, animals, anything a child would like. You intently listen to every garble that streams from Grogu as if you can understand him, showing him enthusiasm as he babbles. 

Din can feel his body heating up, his chest feeling fuzzy as he watches you interact with his son.

Grogu goes for something in one of your pockets - the pin cushion. You and Din panic, you get to him before he pricks himself on a needle. “No no, baby! Those are sharp, they can hurt you. Here, you can play with this instead,” you say, handing him a spare one sans pins. You remove the one from your apron and toss it onto a table behind you, probably to ensure he doesn’t reach it at all.

How are you so maternal? Is it instinctual or do you have children of your own?

“You’re really good with him,” he says, moreso to himself rather than you. “Hmm?” You say, lifting your head and eyes wide as you meet his gaze. His heart feels like it’s going to combust every time you look at him. 

“What?” He asks. A smile splays on your face, teeth poking through your lips. “What did you say? I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch what you said,” you explain.

“Y-you’re, uh, you’re really good with him. Most people can’t keep up with his hyperness, but you can.” He sees something flash across your eyes.

Bashfulness?

“Oh. Thank you, that’s very kind,” you say, voice hushed and shy. “Do, um, do you have any children of your own, if you don’t mind me asking?” He can’t help, but ask - curious as to how you’re so good with his son, curious if you’ve got a riduur at home.

“No! No children, just me at home. I did have a little sister and have just always had a soft spot for kids, but no… no children,” you tell him, a noticeable deflation in your voice as you bring up your sister.

Did. He catches that, unable to miss the use of past tense. Feeling like he’s already pried from you, he nods. “Well, you’re a natural. Plus, he likes you,” Din says, offering some sort of comfort and shifting the focus of the conversation.

Grogu chirps from below the both of you, making you smile. You boop his nose, making him laugh. “I like him too. We’re best friends now, aren’t we, baby?” You ask him, tickling his sides as Grogu’s laughter grows louder. “Better watch out, Mando. I think I’ve taken the throne as his favorite,” you say through your giggles. Din watches from behind his helmet as you cradle Grogu, his heart taking flight at the sight in front of him.

“I don’t doubt that, cyar’ika.”

“So… can I ask what brings you into town, besides clothes for Grogu?” You ask, marking measurements on the selected fabric.

“Uh, yes, uh, we’re actually also here to gather some things for a fence I’m building. I’ve got a pond in front of our house and Grogu keeps torturing the frogs. I also don’t want him falling in, so I’m buying the last of the supplies to block it off.”

Your heart softens at the mandalorian’s concern. Going above and beyond for his son.

“Those poor frogs,” you giggle at the thought of Grogu messing with them. “Yeah, if he keeps eating them, he’s going to turn into one,” he huffs. Grogu snaps his head up, garbling what seems like a question.

“Have you started building the fence yet?” You through a fit of laughter.

“I have not, I’ve been occupied with some last minute tasks High Magistrate Karga asked me to complete. But I plan to start soon, possibly within the next week.”

You hum as silence settles amongst you three. A thought pops into your head, recounting the time you spent helping your father around the moisture farm back home on Tatooine as a young girl. Building and repairing fences and traps with your brother around the farm, your father adamant on ridding your home of womp rats.

Without even thinking about your next words, they eagerly roll off your tongue. Not sure why you’d go so far to extend a helping hand, but not questioning yourself either.

“Would you like some help?” Mando tilts his head to the side. “W-with the fence! That is,” you say, trailing off at the end. “Oh, that’s quite alright, cyar’ika. It’s a lot of work, and I couldn’t ask another task of you.”

“It’d be no problem! I’m more than happy to help, if you’ll let me.”

You’ve never been so eager to do farm work in your life. Surely, your father would laugh at your enthusiasm.

“Cyar’ika, you’re very kind, but I’d be indebted to you should you help me. In fact, I already am with the garments you’re crafting for Grogu.” You playfully roll your eyes

“Again with the formalities. You aren’t indebted to me, Mando! This is my job. Helping would be considered a favor, helping out a friend.”

“Friend.” Mando states. 

“Yeah. Isn’t that what you call me? ‘Cya-cy-cyar’,” you stumble through the pronunciation. Mando barks out a hearty laugh, sending a flurry of butterflies swarming in your belly.

“Yes, we are friends, cyar’ika. You can just call me ‘Mando’ or ‘friend.’ We’ll work on your pronunciation later, don’t want you hurting yourself now,” he teases. Your scrunch your face up, mouth gaped open. “Wow! How rude of you, Mando! Give a lady some grace, why don’t you?!” You squeak, unable to contain the surprise in your voice as a huge smile breaks out onto your face, taken aback by his sudden playfulness.

“I’m sorry, cyar’ika. How can I re-earn your good graces?” A smile evident in his voice.

Your face feels like it’s going to fall off if you keep smiling.

“For starters, you can tell me what that word really means. I’m only fluent in Basic and Jawaese,” you say with a wink, trying to make him feel equally as flustered.

“Jawaese? Are you not native to Nevarro?”

You shake your head as you measure Grogu once more, jotting down his measurements, playfully booping his nose to keep him entertained. “I am not. Tatooine was my home, it’s where I was born and where I grew up.”

He nods, carefully catching a wobbling Grogu. “So what brought you here?” You smirk. “I could ask you the same, Mando… if that is your real name,” you tease. The mandalorian chuckles under his helmet.

Oh what you’d give to see his smile.

“Maybe I’ll tell you… should you ever choose to tell me your given name,” you tease.

“Fair enough. I’ll tell you everything one day, cyar’ika.”

One day. Is he possibly considering telling you his name?

“One day,” you repeat. Your gaze never leaves his, staring into the blacked-out T in his helmet, hoping he can see the desire in your eyes. The silence is broken with the clearing of Mando’s throat. 

“I plan on starting next week. Does that work for you, cyar’ika?” 

You nod a little too eagerly, automatically agreeing despite not having checked your deadline schedules for other commissions. “It does! I’ll even bring over Grogu’s new tunics next week, they’ll be ready by then,” you excitedly say, folding the paper containing Grogu’s measurements and tucking it into your apron. Tucking your pencil behind your ear, you fold the fabrics up and carefully place them back in the box.

Grogu picks one up and hands it to you, melting your heart. You graciously pout, cooing at him. “Thank you, baby!” You squeal, gently caressing his cheek. He nuzzles into your touch.

He’s got you wrapped around his little green finger.

A pang of disappointment hits your heart, your time with the clan coming to a close.

You sigh as you tuck the box of fabric under one of the tables behind you. Silence hangs in the air, fiddling with your apron as you’re unable to say goodbye.

“Well… I guess we’ll be seeing you next week, cyar’ika?” Mando says, making you perk up at the sound of his voice. “Yes, yes you will, Mando.” You can’t help but smile at the thought of spending time with the duo.

“Good. I can’t wait, mesh’la,” he says quietly. Your brows reach your hairline at the new nickname. “Okay, now what does that one mean, Mando? You better not be insulting me!” You exclaim, poking fun at him, but genuinely curious as to what he’s saying.

“I would never, cyar’ika! Like I said, I’ll tell you one day,” he assures you. You sarcastically hum, reaching for something else in your pocket and hand Grogu yet another piece of candy.

“Here you go, little man. Thank you for being so good today, baby!” You tell him, helping him unwrap the lollipop as he squeals with excitement. He incoherently babbles as you discard the wrapper.

“None for daddy though, he’s being a meanie,” you pretend to whisper to Grogu. Your head snaps up at the sound of a groan.

“You alright, Mando?” You ask, brows pinched together. “Y-yeah, cyar’ika. I’m fine. J-just s-sometimes… this… helmet gives me, uh, a headache. I’m fine though,” he stammers. Your worry not quite dissolving. 

“I’m sorry, Mando. Would you like some medicine? I think I might have some inside,” you worriedly ramble. He waves you off. “It’s alright, cyar’ika. I promise. Th-thank you for all your help today, truly,” he nervously says. Taking his word, you nod.

“Well, I’m here if you ever need anything. And of course, it was my pleasure,” you say as you extend your hand to him, smiling as you do so. He quickly glances down to your hand, his large gloved hand fully encasing yours, his thick fingers brushing against yours in the process. He gently shakes your hand, giving it a soft squeeze in between, flashing him a gentle smile.

Is he smiling under there? You hope so.

“See you next week, cyar’ika,” he says, his hand still in yours. “I’ll see you both next week, Mando,” you say breathlessly. He sets your hand down, but doesn’t let go. You can sense his hesitation, but what could he be hesitating about?

“Have a lovely day… mesh’la,” he rasps with a tender, but swift swirl of his thumb on your hand. Sparks of electricity bolt throughout your body, your hand feeling as if it’s ablaze. He quickly drops your hand, gathering Grogu in his arms and settling him in his pram.

“Thank you. You too, Mando,” you nearly whisper, still relishing in the lingering feeling of his hand in yours. “Bye, cyar’ika,” he says with a wave, Grogu mirroring his father’s actions. “Bye, Mando. Bye, Grogu!” You say, returning the wave to the father-son duo. They part from your stall.

There’s a few customers browsing around your stall, but you hardly notice them as your mind swirls from what just happened between you and Mando.

What was that?

A customer comes up to you to ask a question. You shake the thoughts from your head and go about the work day. Anticipation blooms within you as the day drags on.

Next week can’t come fast enough.

we've finally been introduced to our reader (or as Din likes to call you, 'Cyari'ka' hehehe) and now the plot has been set up for some major pining! we've even caught a glimpse of backstory for reader!

i truly hope your suspension of disbelief allows you to picture yourself when reading this, because i like to picture myself while writing! Din wants reader aka you! 🫶🏼

anyway, thank you so much for reading! i'd love to know your thoughts in the comments, my asks, or dms 🩷

tag list: @javierpena-inatacvest @gracieheartspedro @undrthelights @tinygarbage @bastardmandennis @party-hearses @nostalxgic @mandoisapunk @pedrostories @anoverwhelmingdin @diguise7 @survivingandenduring @missladym1981 @stilllivindue2spite @dindjarinsmut @coquettegingette @firstofficerwiggles @christinamadsen @leithatnight

if your name is crossed out, it means i couldn't tag you ):

[whumpsday]

you got an ask about this like, a year ago (and absolutely feel free to ignore this if you want to) but could we get a drabble of jim holding human!kane's hand as he introduces him to the sun sometime?🥺

takes place after chapter 18 but before chapter 52

Chronological masterlist / Writing order masterlist

content: impossible "anon magic"-type AU, recovery, comfort, referenced past torture

-

No one could explain it. One day, Kane woke up as a human, and that was that.

Jim had expected Kane to freak out, and he did a little, of course. But overall, it was a relief to them both. Kane made no secret of how overjoyed he was at the development. Despite his shortened lifespan and decreased strength, Kane was all-too-pleased with his new species. Where Jim considered being human a vulnerability, Kane could only find safety.

No risk of future hostility from the hunters that had hurt him. Protection under human territory law. The ability to eat regular food. No danger from the sun. As Kane told it, he even considered the lack of immortality a boon, his ability to experience pain capped below where it was for a vampire–his new form would perish long before it could ever experience being burned alive for days on end.

Of course, he'd freed Kane immediately, now that he posed no danger, but Kane had nowhere to go. He couldn’t exactly return to vampire territory. So he'd just... stayed. That was alright, Jim supposed. He’d already gotten used to having him around, and he didn't even have to feed him his blood anymore. He couldn’t bear the thought of forcing him to navigate the world all on his own as a new human.

Plus, he had to admit that watching Kane's face light up whenever he tried a new food was endearing.

Kane never left the house. Not during the night, when Jim warned him to be extra-careful of the new danger of vampires now that he was human, and certainly not during the day. Despite his freshly human skin, Kane remained utterly terrified of the sun.

Months after the change, it was taking his toll. Jim knew what that was like, the fatigue he’d experienced after Kane kept him away from the sun for the five years of his captivity. Kane was human now, and had never had a drop of healthy sunlight in his entire life.

So, after weeks of gentle coaxing, here they were.

Kane stood petrified in the living room as Jim slowly opened the curtain, firmly in the shade as natural light flooded into the room.

"It's okay," Jim said softly, stepping into the sun himself, warm and pleasant on his skin.

Kane stared at him wide-eyed and frozen, like he'd rather stepped into a cloud of poison.

"Here.” Jim extended an ar out of the sunned area, offering it. “Take my hand. We’ll do it together. It’ll be okay.”

“What if– what if I burn anyway?” Kane asked, making no attempt to come nearer.

“We’ll go slow. Just a fingertip, and if you burn, you can go right back out again. No one’s gonna make you stay in the sun. I’m not gonna make you stay in the sun.” Jim kept his hand out, waiting. “C’mon. You can’t put it off forever, humans need sun. It’ll be okay. No hurting.”

Kane, to his credit, took a tiny step forward. “You won’t pull me?” he asked, his voice small. He looked so much more vulnerable as a human, and he’d already looked plenty vulnerable before.

“Swear on my life, man. No pulling. You set the pace.” Jim beckoned him closer. “C’mon. You’re doing great.”

The little bit of praise seemed to motivate him, and Kane stepped closer still. His eyes crept away from Jim, to the unshielded window, following the ray of sunshine across the room until he lost his nerve. “I’m sorry. I can’t. I’m sorry, no no no, please don’t make me, I can’t!”

“It’s okay.” Jim stepped out of the sunbeam, going to Kane and taking his hand in the shade. “Not gonna make you do anything. It’s all you, remember?”

Kane gripped his hand lightly, still used to moderating vampiric strength he no longer possessed. “I’m sorry for being so difficult.”

“Pssh. After what you’ve been through, I’d be surprised if this wasn’t difficult. You’re doing great just by trying. Promise,” Jim assured him, giving his hand a squeeze. “I was difficult too, doing stuff for the first time. Gave Liz a headache taking me to the doctor when I had to get my blood drawn. But look at me now, I was doing it every day for your breakfast before you got all human-y. You’ve got this.”

It was something Jim had often felt ashamed of. But now, seeing Kane struggle too… maybe this stuff was just hard, and that’s fine.

Kane nodded slowly, taking his hand back. “Okay. Okay. I’ve got this. I–I’m going to do it.”

Breath held, he slowly closed the gap with one pointer finger outstretched. He finally touched the tip of his finger to the sun–and shrieked, pulling it back instantly and clutching it in his other hand.

“Shit! Are you hurt?” Jim asked. “For the life of me, I swear I totally thought it wouldn’t hurt you. You’re completely human in every other way. Oh my god, Kane, I–”

“It didn’t hurt,” Kane said softly, uncurling his hand to stare at his unharmed finger. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I did that. I thought it would hurt.”

Jim sighed with relief, giving Kane a pat on the shoulder. “Well, that’s good. Just nerves, then. You wanna try a little more?”

Kane hesitated, but nodded after a moment. “Alright. I’ll try.”

Jim walked back into the sun, holding his hand out into the shade. “Just come on over to me.”

With a deep breath, Kane took his hand. It was shaking, now, but Jim held it securely, hoping it’d make the guy feel a little safer. “I won’t pull you. You come to me.”

And he did. Inch by inch, his hand crept into the sun. There was no burst of pain, no burns blooming across his skin. The sun felt… pleasant, somehow, like a warm bath made of air. It was like nothing he’d ever felt before. Despite the terror, his body seemed to yearn for more, wanting to bask in it.

He stepped forward all at once, into Jim’s arms.

-

i'm back!! expect more writing soon!! ty to the anon who sent this ask and this anon who somehow shook me out of my slump

[kurishiri]

21 . . . alfons main story — mad love

꒰ ִ ֺ ⊹ @ notice ⊹ ֺ ִ ꒱ this translation may not be 100% accurate or contain creative liberties due to characterization or narrative flow purposes. if you enjoy, please consider reblogging, but don’t repost these or claim these as your own!

— though not required by any means, for full enjoyment of this chapter, i would recommend reading the past records featuring elbie and al 🍎���� there’s just some context in that story that can give some more meaning to elbie’s dialogue here, i feel!

— cw: not much, i think, alfons is very silly, hehe.

With Roger running while carrying Alfons, he was taken back to Crown castle——

And then he started to perform an emergency operation.

Beyond the horizon, the light colors of twilight started to blur, and the sky started to darken.

Kate: .........

I couldn’t even so much as sleep a wink, so I ended up sitting on the staircase that led down to the basement, hugging my knees.

All I could do was pray with all my heart.

Kate: Alfons...

Just when my hands grasped on each other, I heard footsteps ascending from the basement, causing me to sharply raise my head,

Elbert: .........

and there stood Lord Elbert,

who had been called to the basement at the start of the surgery.

Kate: ...Lord Elbert, is Alfons alright...?

Elbert: ...I’m unsure. Roger had said... there was no way to tell.

His blue eyes then turned to the direction of the basement, and as if being pulled along, I, too, followed his gaze to the stairs that led down.

There was no sign of Roger coming out.

(Which would mean he’s still undergoing treatment...)

When I stared at the closed door, Lord Elbert lightly put his hand against the wall.

Kate: Lord Elbert.

When I took a look at his face, it seemed so white, I felt as though I could see right through him.

Kate: You’re pale as a sheet... are you alright?

Elbert: Yes. It’s just... I shared a bit of my blood with Al.

Kate: Sharing... blood?

Elbert: Supposedly, they call it a blood transfusion. It’s a way to replenish even a little bit of the blood that has been lost.

(So such a method was out there... it’s the first I’ve heard of it.)

Kate: ...All that to say, he had lost so much blood that he needed to use such a method, right?

Elbert: Yes, that’s right. ...That said, he had also mentioned that blood types must be compatible with one another... so there is also a risk that such a process becomes fatal.

Kate: ...!

Elbert: So... it is possible that my blood may kill Alfons.

E: But, even so——I just couldn’t bear the possibility that he just die... when I could have done something.

E: ...So, I want to apologize for that.

I sucked in a gasp, and in response, Lord Elbert’s expression seemed to morph in distress.

Kate: Why the apology... but anyhow, thank you, for telling me.

(No matter how fatal or high the risk...)

(If there is any possibility at all that Alfons could be saved, then I don’t mind betting on it.)

Once again, I turned toward the door to the basement while supporting Lord Elbert.

Kate: You’ve just had your blood drawn, so it would be dangerous walking around alone. I’ll walk you back.

Elbert: Thank you for the offer... but, I would like to stay.

Kate: ...Are you sure you’re alright not resting?

Elbert: Yes, it should be fine... I have some trouble resting, if I had to say...

(...Ahh, so it wasn’t just me.)

Perhaps the uncertainty and fear that had been burning in my chest seemed to eat away at Lord Elbert from the inside in the same way.

Leaning against the wall, Lord Elbert slid down to a seated position, and I joined him, returning to the position I was just in before.

Kate: .........

I felt that if it stayed silent between us, I would end up bolting downstairs to the basement, so I racked my mind for words.

Then, suddenly, a certain thought came to mind...

Kate: Lord Elbert, could I ask... why do you hold Alfons so dear?

It was a question that had always tickled me.

(I do know that when they had met, Alfons was a child with vague origins, who had been assisting a doctor.)

(And that Lord Elbert had Alfons live in the estate and had him name himself a noble, keeping him by his side.)

(And that he, an aristocrat with a good upbringing, placed his full, unwavering trust in someone who played around and lived a decadent and indulgent lifestyle...)

And how Lord Elbert had a great many feelings for Alfons, to the point he was angered at he had up and left on his own after only leaving behind a note,

and how, even now, he tried his best to bear the responsibility of his life and death.

(So, I can’t help but wonder — just why did he go to such lengths?)

Lord Elbert slowly blinked as though recalling something.

Elbert: ...When we had met, he——Al had given me the words I wanted to hear.

That voice seemed to hold an ever so slightly different tone from how it was normally melancholic,

and even in the sigh that escaped from his lips seemed to be seeped with warmth.

Elbert: It was the first time we had even seen each other. So he shouldn’t have known about my circumstances, or anything, really...

E: But at that moment, it felt as though he had understood what was in my heart like the back of his hand as he gave me such words.

E: And, someone like that — to know what somebody else wants when they are struggling... they must have been someone who had endured unimaginable pain themself.

E: And Al must have been such a person.

E: Though he had always worn a smile, it seemed a little sad as well. So that is why...

E: I... could hardly leave him alone.

(Lord Elbert...)

Perhaps, when they met, both of them had been left with wounds that resembled one another.

With no one to protect them, and alone in this darkness——all they had was each other.

I imagined such a scene in my mind.

Elbert: But, there were times when Al... would occasionally try to disappear from my side.

Kate: Wh...

Elbert: And, to be fair, I had never thought that the day when Al felt he wouldn’t want to disappear himself would ever come...

E: But, as for me, I knew in my heart that I would never allow such a day to come when Al disappeared on his own.

Then, a small smile played on Lord Elbert’s lips.

Elbert: I have no way of knowing whether my blood is compatible with Al’s or not.

E: ...But, if it is, then I win. And if it isn’t, then I lose.

I assumed his blood was drawn from his left arm, because Lord Elbert gently rubbed over it with his fingers.

And those eyes seemed so tense that they could have snapped——

Kate: Me too...

I felt his heart might break and shatter to pieces as if it were made of glass, scattering about,

and words escaped from me, gushing out.

Kate: I made a bet with Alfons, too. That if he woke up, he would try to return my feelings.

Elbert: ...Al? He had made such a promise...?

Lord Elbert seemed surprised to hear, as his eyes widened.

Kate: I can’t say I have the greatest luck when it comes to bets... but I like to say I’m pretty strong when it counts... so that’s why...

K: Your blood will be compatible, Lord Elbert — I’m more than sure of it.

K: Let’s both win this together and make Alfons wave a white flag in surrender...

Though my logic was all over a mess, I just wanted to do something to get rid of the uncertainty.

My voice trembled in an attempt to convince myself,

and Lord Elbert gave me a soft smile, as though he were gently taking in my bluff with both of his hands.

Elbert: ...Yes, let’s.

E: And, to tell you the truth, between Al and I, I have never once lost a bet against him as well.

——In the end, Alfons’ surgery ended only after dawn had broken.

I asked if I could go down to the basement until Alfons regained consciousness...

But taking into consideration the risk of infection and my fatigue, Roger had said he ‘couldn’t allow it,’

stopping me in my tracks, so I ended up returning to my room to catch up on sleep.

Even so, though, I got up early the next morning and ran for the basement.

That then continued to the next day, and the day after that. I would go and check to see whether Alfons had regained consciousness——

And when night fell, I would return to my room, feeling as though my heart had been pierced through. That was my every day.

——That was, until something strange suddenly occurred.

(What the...?)

When I ran at the break of dawn down to the basement——it was empty.

The bed Alfons had been using was now clean and neatly done, without a trace of a person having used it at all to be seen...

Kate: Wh—h-huh...?

(Did... did he wake up...?)

(But then, even so, what is this feeling...)

——Something felt oddly off.

(If he woke up, then why did he let neither Roger or me know?)

(And, even if he had woken up, would that really mean he would be able to move freely around?)

(Yeah, there is definitely something off...)

With a sense of unease piling atop one another at the sight of the empty bed, I dashed in a fret out of the basement.

And when wanting to ask if anyone knew of the situation, I made my way to the dining room, where I knew some of them were——

Roger: Hey there, lil lady, I see you’re an early bird as ever.

Ellis: Morning, Kate. What do you want for breakfast?

There Roger and Ellis were, eating breakfast like nothing was off.

Kate: G-good morning... uhm——

Roger: Hm? Something wrong?

Recently, Roger had looked a bit sleep deprived himself due to watching over Alfons,

but seeing as his expression seemed more clear, I only felt my anxiety grow.

Ellis: Ah, you’re curious about what’s for breakfast? Here, today we have the egg muffins that you said you liked before.

(I mean, yes, it’s true I do think the egg muffins here are second to none...)

(There was something else I needed to know——)

Kate: Is Alfons here...!?

Ellis: Huh...?

Roger: ...? What’s gotten into you?

Both of them looked as though they had next to no clue what I was talking about——and my mind went blank then.

Kate: Wait... huh, but... what...?

(Don’t tell me... did they actually... forget?)

(Like, maybe he had used his ability on everyone again and went off somewhere?)

(That, or——)

“Without leaving your mark on anyone’s memories——”

If he lost his life, he would disappear from any and all memory.

Remembering his tragic fate, I felt the depths of my heart go cold.

Kate: Don’t tell me he... no way, but... how...

(But then, if that were the case, then why do I still remember him...?)

Kate: Uhm, do you really not know!? Where Alfons is, I mean...

Ellis: Well, umm...

Kate: Oh, you know, that Alfons...!

K: Also known as the man who, well, loves to go out to play at night, and for every question you ask he talks so much that he could fit in ten lies in a single answer, and——

K: He’s utterly halfhearted, and has anything but morals, and, and...!

Roger: And that ‘Alfons’ you’re speaking of——he’s standing right behind you, you know.

Kate: ...............He’s what now?

At that moment, I heard a voice from behind me——one I could never mistake for anyone else’s.

Alfons: Now wait just a minute, why spoil the fun so soon like that?

A: I had wanted to look on at her making a ruckus while ever the more panicked, but now that has gone straight out the window, you know.

Kate: Wh-wha...!?

When I turned around, Alfons was there, standing right behind me.

[1] Are you a ghost? (+4 / +4)

[2] Is this real?

[3] Is this an illusion?

Kate: Don’t tell me, are you a ghost?

Alfons: Ahha! Come see for yourself, why don’t you? I have legs, do I not?

He appeared in front of me so suddenly, all I could do was stare at his face in a daze.

Alfons: Even so, how dull your sense must be.

Casting me a sidelong glance, he even gave a dramatic yawn.

Alfons: All I ever did was hold my breath and hide myself, and yet you did not notice even a trace of me... pulling a trick on you was such a bore I just couldn’t help but even let out a yawn, you see.

(It... it’s really Alfons...)

He was awake, he was standing here and out of bed, and he was talking.

I should have long been used to such a scene, but still, my words were lost, and I could only continue to stare at him with unblinking eyes.

Alfons: Come now, you hardly need to stand there in a daze. Why don’t you see if this person before you is your most beloved Alfons or not?

A: And to do so, you must check eeevery inch of my body, no?

He scooped up my hand and brought my fingers to his chest, so that they touched where his heart was.

The moment those fingers felt that warmth that told me he was indeed living, I soundly knew that the ‘reality’ I had sought was here before my eyes.

(This really is Alfons... in the flesh.)

Those lips that were curved into a light smile, those eyes that seemed to see what lie ahead,

that expression that gleamed with a teasing air... everything before my eyes was proof that he was here as an existence before me——

Kate: ——!!

‘You’re the utter worst, pulling a prank like that.’ ‘Stop with these pointless things.’

The list of things I wanted to say to him then and there was endless.

But, all of those things were drowned out by a single emotion.

Kate: Alfons...!

A happiness I could hardly put in words burst within me,

and before I knew it, I was hugging Alfons,

Alfons: Whoops...

and as he caught me, he stumbled back two or three steps.

He was practically sandwiched between me and the wall at this point, but even so, I couldn’t bring myself to let go of him.

Alfons: Hehe... mind you, I am still very much an injured person, so if you would be so kind, could you go a tad easier on me?

Kate: Absolutely not...!

K: You could use a bit of pain to reflect on yourself...

And so, I hugged him tighter.

Alfons: Ow, ow, ow...

His pained voice echoed in my ears.

With my ears pressed to his chest, I could hear his heartbeat.

I could feel his warmth.

(...Alfons is still right here. He hasn’t disappeared.)

And that alone was enough to make me so happy, I couldn’t care less about anything else now.

Kate: ...You remember the bet we made, don’t you?

Alfons: The bet, you say?

Kate: That if you were to survive, in your words, you would love me back to the fullest...

—— Flashback ——

Alfons: ...Then... how about we make a bet... the two of us?

Kate: ...? A bet...?

Alfons: If I die, then I win. I bid you adieu, and have a lovely rest of your life.

A: But, if I happen to survive this ordeal... then you win.

A: And, just as you so wish, I will love you back to the fullest——

A: And tear your life to bits and pieces.

—— End flashback ——

Even now, I could hear his voice, having left its mark in me, so clear in my ears.

Kate: ...I won that bet.

to be continued…

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masterlist🪞 ╱ ko-fi ☕️

꒰ ִ ֺ ⊹ @ tags🏷️ ⊹ ֺ ִ ꒱ @drachonia @.comment, send an ask off anon, or dm to be added or removed!

[lambtotheslaughterr]

Rise : Chapter Sixteen

A Rafe Cameron Series

[THIS STORY WILL CONTAIN THEMES OF NON-CON/DUB-CON, MENTAL-EMOTIONAL-PHYSICAL ABUSE, ETC. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. 18+. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT]

WC: 4k

Dividers provided by @firefly-graphics

CHAPTER FIFTEEN | MASTERLIST | CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

IMPORTANT NOTE* hey ya’ll! just a reminder that my requests are OPEN. please read this POST before making any requests as i have rules in place. there are two spots left (which you will see at the bottom of the linked post). so get your requests in if you’re wanting to use me;p

            You were back where you started.

            In the room where you stayed before moving to Rafe’s, you sat against the furthest wall. Two chains were expertly locked around your ankles & drilled into the wall you rested against. You had tried pulling on them for hours but there was no give. Micah had made sure they would be secure, that you couldn’t escape again.

            You were still in the clothes you were wearing from the night that Bear escaped. You weren’t allowed to leave the room, even to shower. You felt disgusted with yourself but more so with the people who kept you locked in there.

            It wasn’t for another day & a half after Bear’s escape that you saw Rafe. Adrianna brought you food once & you didn’t miss the conflicted look in her eyes, torn somewhere between concern for you & anger for betraying Rafe. You couldn’t care. As long as Bear made it, that’s all that mattered. But they were out looking for him.

            At midday, the plate of half-eaten food forgotten beside you, you were struggling to rest comfortably against the brick wall. The rigidness dug into your spine painfully & you groaned annoyingly. The flimsy mattress you once slept on teased you in the corner of your eyes. It was just out of reach. You had tried many times, straining yourself against the chains to try & reach it. Your fingertips brushed against it many times in mockery.

            The jacket you wore that night was the only source of mild comfort you could find. You often rolled it up to act as a pillow for when you slept or a cushion for moments like this when you tried to remain sitting up. But the fabric was thin & did little to block out the discomfort.

            You were eyeing the rest of the food on your plate, some stale bread & diced potatoes, contemplating eating the rest, when you suddenly heard a door slam in the distance followed by yelling. You knew that yell anywhere, & it was growing closer.

            Immediately you went into defensive position, standing up & bracing yourself against the wall. There was little you could do to defend yourself, that much you knew, but you’d be damned if you didn’t put up a fight.

            “_____!” Rafe yelled, his voice thick with fury.

            A second later the door to your room slammed open, having been kicked in by Rafe. He stormed inside, his eyes set directly on you. He stomped towards you & when he made to grab you by the shoulders, you sunk against the wall, using your feet to kick at his shins. Rafe groaned in pain but still managed to get a fistful of your hair, yanking you upwards.

            He then slammed your against the brick wall, his hands around your throat, “Where the fuck is he?!”

            You couldn’t help the cat-got-the-milk smile that appeared on your face at his question, despite the fact that he was constricting your air. They hadn’t found him. Bear had gotten away. And it would stay that way if you could help it.

            “Where is he, you fucking bitch?!” Rafe yelled against, spats of his spit marking your face. But you only returned it with a smile.

            “I’ll never tell you.” You strained, your voice hoarse from his grip.

            “Ahh!” He screamed again, shoving you against the wall once. Your body dropped to the follow immediately, air rushing to your lungs. You rubbed at your neck, ebbing the pain away, but it was short-lived as Rafe stepped to the side. It was only then that you noticed Micah standing behind him in the doorway.

            “Do it.” Rafe demanded, staring hard eyed at you.

            Your eyes flashed from his to Micah as Micah approached you with a proud grin on his face.

            Micah kneeled beside you, a drill in his hand as he brought it up to where your chains were hooked into the wall. As he reversed the drill, loosening your chains, your eyes went from Micah back to Rafe. What did they have planned? A second later, Micah yanked on your arm harshly, forcing you to stand up.

            “What are you doing?” You questioned, panic settling into your bones. You knew Rafe & Micah were evil in the flesh, but you had yet to see it for yourself. Now, you would be experiencing it firsthand.

            Neither of them said a word as they shoved you out of the room. Micah held onto your chains to ensure you wouldn’t run off, but even if you had chosen to, Rafe had a firm grip on the back of your neck as he practically dragged you down the hallway. Your feet tripped over one another as you attempted to keep up with their fast pace, & it didn’t help that Micah would intentionally yank on the chain to trip you up. You flashed him a glare over your shoulder. He returned it with a devilish smirk.

            They eventually led you to the mess hall. You were disturbed to find everyone there. Waiting. Kai had his head hung low, like he couldn’t fathom the sight before him, but everyone else looked like hyenas ready for the kill.

            “Notice anyone missing?” Micah asked you in a hushed voice.

            You didn’t respond but did take a double look. But you knew all the faces present.

            Before you could think on what Micah was asking, Rafe forced you against one of the support beams in the center of the room. You were forced to turn your head to prevent your face from getting smashed against the wood as Rafe held you front-facing against it. You tried to see what Micah was doing as he kneeled down yet again. The sound of the drill filled the spacious room & you began to feel the chains around your ankles grow taught again. Then Adrianna stepped forward with another set of chains. She avoided your eyes.

            A shocked yelp escaped you when you felt the cold, pinching grip of the chains as they were suddenly around your wrists on the other side of the post. At this point, you were better able to see as Micah tugged on the chains around your wrists until you hissed as he secured the other end of them on a post a few feet away from you.

            “What the fuck are you doing?” Your voice shook with fear.

            “You killed people.” Rafe voiced behind you, “The masses are angry. They want punishment.”

            He circled around until you could see him, “And I do, too.”

            “Killed? I didn’t kill anyone.” You rushed out, your eyes flashing around the faces yet again. But everyone was there! And they couldn’t be referring to Bear…

            “Then where’s Matt? Robbie?” Micah sneered as he secured the chains & approached you & Rafe.

            What? You glanced around again, only then realizing that those two were indeed missing. But I didn’t…

            “When Bear exploded my truck,” Rafe started, his eyes holding yours, “Matt & Robbie were the collateral. Dumbasses were having a couple beers in the cab, too drunk to notice that Bear stuck a rag into the neck of the gas tank & lit it.”

            “Boom.” Micah’s face hardened as he made an explosion with his hand.

            You shook your head but a light chuckle revealed your true thoughts, “Good.”

            Micah growled, taking a step towards you, but Rafe stopped him.

            “Get a knife.”

            Knife?

            You watched with wide eyes as Micah grabbed a knife from the nearby makeshift kitchen & brought it to Rafe.

            “You’re gonna tell us where Bear is, _____.” Rafe said from behind you, a pleased lilt in his tone. “Whether you want to or not.”

            “Fuck you.” You muttered. The neck of your shirt was suddenly pulled tight against your neck but was quickly released at the sound of fabric tearing. Goosebumps erupted over your skin as the back of your shirt was torn in two then effectively ripped away from your body. You were standing in only your bra & pants.

            “We’ll get to that later.” Rafe replied low enough for only you to hear. Your stomach flipped.

            Your bra snapped loose next as Rafe cut through the band. You lowered your arms as much as possible to keep from your breasts being exposed to the others. It was the only moment you were grateful to be pressed against the post to hide your nudity. You felt humiliated, but it was short-lived when Micah appeared in your line of sight with a switch from a tree.

            “Micah.” Rafe gestured for him to stand behind you & Micah was happy to follow his orders. They switched placed & it was then Rafe who stood looking you in the eyes. Unlike Micah, he didn’t have a smile on his face. He continued to carry the rage across his features.

            “This is for Matt & Robbie.”

            Before you could brace yourself, the sound of the switch whipping through the air met your ears just as the thin, offensive object made contact with your back. You cried out, your teeth gritted against one another.

            “Again.” Rafe demanded as he stood with his arms crossed against his chest, his eyes never leaving your face.

            Thwack!

            You cried out loud again, your fingers tugging against the chains around your wrist in an attempt to get away from the assault.

            “Again!” Rafe hollered.

            Micah whipped you again. Tears blanketed your vision as the pain alongside your back spiked & stung with every hit.

            “More!”

            “Harder!”

            “Again!”

            It kept coming, never stopping. Your cries eventually died out as you felt your body go numb. The scent of blood filled your nose & you winced. Micah never let up once, never lessened his strength with the switch. He hit you on the center of your back with pristine placement, ensuring that you wouldn’t be able to lie down or lie against anything for days.

            Micah whipped you once more when Rafe finally raised his hand for him to stop. At this point, you were practically on your knees, your chest heaving, cheeks wet from the tears you unwillingly cried, your shoulders straining from the angle they were positioned at above your head. You felt dizzy, tired, sick, deathly. But you reminded yourself over & over again… as long as Bear got away.

            Rafe kneeled before you then, feigned concern on his face, “Now, where is Bear going?”

            Your lips were cracked & dry as you rested there trying to catch your breath. But you licked you lips to soften the word you knew would only provide you more pain, “Never.”

            Rafe’s eyes fluttered closed as his anger heightened, “Your choice.”

            He then backed away & nodded at Micah who still stood behind you. Micah circled around to the front of you, handing Rafe the switch. You didn’t miss how it was covered in blood, your blood, that dripped onto the floor. A surprised yelp left your already parted lips as you felt Micah yank on your right pointer finger.

            “Ahh!” You screamed in ungodly pain as Micah snapped your finger back, breaking it.

            “Where is he, _____?!”

            “No, please!” You hollered, desperate to escape the torture.

            Micah broke your middle finger.

            “We’ll go until we break every single fucking bone. Tell me where he’s going!”

            “I don’t know!” You lied, spit collecting on your chin as you screamed in pain.

            Your ring finger was next.

            Tears coated your cheeks again as your hand throbbed in pain, the crisp, stiff pain of your back forgotten with the new assault.

            Give them something! You yelled to yourself, Anything! Make it believable! You have to survive, _____. You have to. Desperately, you thought of a way out, a lie convincing enough to get you, & Bear, out of the shit you found yourself in. The map in the office flashed in your mind. Rockingham was south of Asheboro. But another town, one closer, one in the opposite direction, appeared in your memory as you stared at the map in your minds eye.

            Micah snatched your pinkie finger, waiting for Rafe to give the nod, but you lowered your head, blubbering out, “Greensboro.”

            Rafe held out his hand, halting Micah. He stepped towards you, lowering himself to hear you better, “What was that?”

            You swallowed, wincing as your three fingers ached, “He’s going to Greensboro.”

            Rafe narrowed his eyes at you, “Why?”

            You shook your head, biting your lower lip as you put on the performance of your life, “Please, Rafe, just let him go.”

            “Why?” He repeated again, his voice firm.

            “There’s others.” Your voice shuddered as you felt bile rise in your throat.

            “What are you talking about?”

            You finally looked at him, your vision blurry but you could make him out enough as you glared at him, “I heard others on the radio… they’re in Greensboro.”

            He just stared at you, a displeased sigh leaving him, “You kept it from me…”

            Crying, you nodded, “I’m sorry.”

            Rafe smiled but it wasn’t soft, wasn’t kind. He finally looked at Micah, “Take her back to the room.”

            “What?” Micah stood up, his rage matching Rafe’s, “That’s it? She could be fucking lying!”

            Rafe stood with him, glaring him down, “Take her back to the room. Now.”

            It was clear Micah wanted to argue but didn’t. He let go of your pulsating hand, turning his back on Rafe as he stomped through the others who witnessed the torturous assault, “Take her back yourself.”

            Rafe sighed heavily, but didn’t stop him. He then looked to Adrianna, “Take her back, Anna. And fix her up.”

            Adrianna nodded. She was quick to undo Micah’s mechanics of hooking you up to the post. Your body collapsed against hers as she held you up. You held your hand to your chest, too fearful to look at it, knowing that if you did you’d throw up right then & there. The others dispersed & Rafe followed after Micah.

            As Adrianna led you back to your room, you smiled internally to yourself. Let them chase a ghost. As long as Bear got away.

            It was late when you heard the door to your room crank & groan open. You wiped the sleep from your eyes with your unharmed hand as you struggled to sit up. Adrianna had been decent enough to remove the chains from your wrists & ankles entirely. You were no threat as broken & beaten down you were. The flimsy mattress was the only source of comfort you had as you lied on it on your front, sure to keep your right hand out of your own way.

            Adrianna had snapped your fingers back into place, which was just as painful as when Micah broke them, before making splints for them & wrapping them in a cast. She then cleaned & disinfected your back, informing you that you would only be able to wear loose fitting clothes & no bras until the marks healed. You didn’t thank her. Couldn’t. She was just as bad as the rest of them. Then she left you & you finally fell into a deep sleep.

            But you were rudely awoken at the presence of another as they snuck into your room, waking you.

            It was dark in the room, & as exhausted as you were, you were unable to make out just who it was that was in there. You worried that it was Micah, having come to finish the job, but your fears were snuffed out as the sound of a lighter flicking cast a dim glow against the face who held a cigarette in between their lips.

            Rafe.

            You stared up at him from below your lashes, your back too sore to move in a more defensive position.

            “What do you want?” You whispered angrily.

            Rafe exhaled, the smoke filling the air around him. He slowly approached before kneeling down before you. He took another drag, his eyes never leaving yours before removing the nicotine stick from his lips, holding it out to you. Your eyes fell to the burning cigarette, glaring at it before meeting his eyes again.

            “No?” He raised a single brow. When you said nothing in response, he returned the cigarette to his lips before reaching into the pocket of his jeans. The sound of familiar sound of plastic rustling reached your eyes. He then produced a little baggie filled with white powder. You couldn’t help the sharp inhalation you made at the sight of the coke. How did he still have some?

            “I’m no doctor but this will help with the pain.” He dangled the baggie before you.

            Your regrettable desire for the drug coursed through you.

            “What. Do. You. Want?” You repeated, trying to ignore the baggie.

            “I wanted to see you. See how you were doing.”

            You scoffed at that, shaking your head, “Terribly, no thanks to you.”

            “It was all Micah.” Rafe grinned nonchalantly.

            “So much for never letting him hurt me, huh?” You bit back.

            “You hurt me first.” He countered, his eyes darkening in the already dark room.

            Hot, angry tears kissed your eyes as you glared at him through the darkness, “No. You hurt me first. Didn’t you?”

            There was no need to further explain. He knew exactly what you were referring to. The only aspect about your pain & discomfort that helped you see clearly was that Rafe was a liar like you assumed him to be. He revealed as such right before Bear’s explosion. You still heard it clear as day. Nothing I haven’t done already. He said it that night, right before he was going to force himself on you.

            Rafe chuckled darkly, dropping the baggie of coke onto your mattress before you. He took another drag from the cigarette, narrowing his eyes towards you, “What do you want me to say? That I raped you? Fine. I raped you.”

            His admittance, as much needed as it was, only made you feel sicker.

            Tears skipped down your cheeks, “Why?”

            He exhaled a cloud of smoke, licking his lips, “Because I wanted to.”

            You shook your head. Your back ached as you moved away from him, scared of him.

            “How many times?” You asked, & you weren’t sure why you were asking. You had the answer you wanted. The truth. So why did you keep asking for details that would only hurt you more?

            Rafe hummed quietly to himself but his eyes never left yours, “Once.”

            “In the woods.” It wasn’t a question, but Rafe shook his head, grinning. Then he laughed lightly, “No, no. That time you were into it.”

            “What?” You furrowed your brows, “Quit lying!”

            “I’m not.” Rafe responded smoothly, “I’ve no reason to lie anymore. You see me for the monster I am. Why would I lie?”

            He was right, but he couldn’t be. It wasn’t possible. You blinked your tears away, shaking your head, “No. I didn’t. I wouldn’t.”

            “But you did.” Rafe made a knowing face, like he was reprimanding a child, reminding them of their faults, “You were high. You were grieving. And I was there for you.”

            “And,” He moved closer, his hand gently grazing the top of your unharmed hand, “you were there for me.”

            You ripped your hand away from him, snarling out, “Don’t fucking touch me.”

            Rafe’s face went dead then, his eyes flashing to yours. He dropped the cigarette, stomping it out.

            “I’m gonna do whatever the fuck I want.”

            Before you could respond, or put up a pitiful fight, Rafe backhanded you. You slumped to the side. A shot of pain shooting up your arm as you attempted to catch yourself on both hands. Rafe was then quick to shove you face down onto the mattress.

            “No!” You screamed, pathetically reaching back with your unbroken hand in an attempt to stop him as he climbed on top of you.

            “I am so sick of your bullshit, _____.” Rafe growled as you felt him reach under your long & loose t-shirt to tear your underwear down your legs.

            “Sick of protecting you, consoling you, wanting you.” The roughness of his denim pressed against the backs of your thighs as he shimmied them down his own.

            “But I can’t stop.” His breath brushed against your ear as you felt him prodding for your entrance, “I can’t stop doing all of those things because I need you. More than you’ll ever know.”

            You cried out when you felt him tear into you, your walls dry & unwelcoming. You didn’t care anymore about your hand, your back, your trauma, your loss, your shit hand of cards you’d been dealt at the end of the world. You just wanted him off you. Away from you forever.

            “Rafe, no!” You screamed again, thrashing wildly underneath him.

            He was quick to reach around & slap a hand over your mouth as he began to rut into you, his other hand keeping your flailing wrists secured against the center of your lower back.

            “Just shut up.” He groaned pleasantly as he forced your thighs more apart so he could fuck you deeper. “Shut up & take it like the fucking whore you are.”

            Rafe’s whore. That’s what the others referred to you as. Did they know he did this to you? Would they think that then? It didn’t matter. You felt it. You felt like a used & abused filthy whore. Just like how he wanted you.

            “Ah, god.” He moaned, pressing his chest into your stinging back as he rested against you. “I fucking love you.”

            You cried into the palm of his hand, spit collecting there as you tried to ignore the pain he was causing in between your legs.

            “I love you, _____.” He kissed the shell of your ear as he fucked you mercilessly.

            “Stop, please.” But your words were muffled behind his hand.

            A growl sounded from the deepest depths of his chest, reverberating against your back as his movement began to grow choppy. The walls of your cunt were throbbing as you felt his cock begin to swell, stretching you more than he already had.

            Rafe let out a guttural groan as he came, his hips slamming into you as he filled you with his seed. You had stopped crying at this point & were just lying there as he slowly thrusted into you. Rafe removed his hand from your mouth & you felt your head drop onto the mattress, your eyes staring blankly ahead.

            “In time,” he began but his voice sounded far away, “you’ll learn to love me, too.”

            In the corner of your eye, you watched as he pulled out of you, using your underwear to wipe himself clean. He pulled his jeans back up his thighs, fastening them as he pulled another cigarette from his pocket. He lit it, took a drag, then brought it to your lips.

            “Inhale.”

            Numbingly, you closed your dry lips around the filter & inhaled, the smoke filling your lungs. You released it & Rafe smiled, resting his hand on your head like he was proud of you.

            “Good girl.”

            With that, Rafe tucked your hair behind your ear so he could look you in the eyes, but you only stared right through him.

            “Get some rest. We got a long day tomorrow. We’re going to Greensboro. Gonna track down Bear, & you better hope we find him. Or else…”

            Rafe cocked his head, “Well, guess you’ll just see.”

            He said nothing more as he left your room, the lit cigarette on the ground next to the mattress. You watched mindlessly as the cherry of the cigarette burned the length of the stick until it finally died.

            Bear got away. It would stay that way. But you wouldn’t remain here for Rafe & Micah to torture as they pleased. You would get away, too. If it was quite literally the last thing you did, you would get out. You would run & you’d never stop running. And if Rafe caught up to you, you promised yourself then & there, that you would end your own life before it was back in his hands. Because this was a new world. It was eat or be eaten. And you’d rather Rafe starve then devour you himself. You promised it. You swore it.

            If Rafe found you again, it would be your corpse.

another heavy chapter but shit is about to get wild. so prepare yourselves.

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[bitethedevil]

The Virtue of Chastity (Chapter 1/2)

Tags: Corruption, Dark!Raphael, Dub-Con, Nun gets corrupted by devil-trope

TW: Dubious Consent, Depictions of Illness, Death, NSFW Content, Mention of Thoughts of Suicide

AO3 LINK

(Chapter 2)

Summary:

A cleric of Ilmater is mourning the loss of someone dear to her. Lucian, an earlier patient of hers who she loved dearly, had died from his illness, but not before revealing that he had sold his soul to a devil. Destroyed by the knowledge she cannot save him from his suffering in the afterlife, she runs into a strange man by the name Raphael. He says he can fix it all and bring her the soul of her dear Lucian.

He is also oddly fascinated by the fact that she has sworn a Vow of Chastity, and he seems to know an awful lot about her and her relationship with Lucian.

AN: Basically: Nun gets corrupted by the devil-trope. Raphael is a bit of a creep in this one. Not my most edited fic. I wrote this whole thing over the span of a day, but felt like sharing anyway.

It was a warm summer’s day. The birds were singing, and the sun was kissing her tear-stained cheeks, almost as if everything around her was reveling in her suffering. She just could not stop crying. As a cleric of Ilmater she had done everything she could to save Lucian, and yet, it had not been enough. Ilmater had bid her to bear the sufferings of others, but this time she had been robbed of the opportunity to do so.

When Lucian came to the temple the very first time, he had already been sick for months. The disease was taking more and more each day, but it was an excruciatingly slow process. She had gotten to know him well. Despite all the pain he was in, he had always found it in him to make jokes and keep his spirits high in her company. They had become close.

It was clear that Lucian also wanted more, but he did not want to burden her when he knew that he was going to die, and it was not as if she was able to return his love either. She was trying to live up to the virtue name she had taken on after her parents died and she swore a vow. The act of loving someone else in that manner was forbidden. She was not supposed to have relationship or love anyone above others. Her purpose was to serve the Crying God and thus her purpose was to suffer.

Her biggest trial in suffering began when the sickness had started eating at Lucian’s mind. She had gone to his bed to tend to him, as she always had, and one day he did not recognize her. His eyes had widened in fear as he looked at her red skin and the horns on her head, and he had recoiled from her, shouting: ‘No no no, leave me alone, devil! You can’t take my soul! I’m not dead yet! Please!’

Her heart sank at his words, and she knew that he would never find peace, not even in death. Ilmater would not be able to soothe his soul in the afterlife, for his soul had already been given away. Not a tenday after, Lucian died and was then buried in the graveyard outside the temple. She had come there to sit at his grave every time she could sneak out there without any of the other clerics noticing.

She heard a sound behind her and quickly dried the tears from her eyes before getting up in a hurry. She cleared her throat and turned her face downwards so that he would not be able to see that she had cried.

“Forgive me,” she hurriedly apologized and dried off more of her tears with her sleeve, trying to ready herself to face who she thought to be Father Marcus. “I was just getting some sun. I will be in for prayer in a moment.”

“Please, take your time,” she heard some say in a smooth voice that was not Father Marcus’s. “I am in no hurry.”

She turned around. It was a darkhaired man in clothing that looked to be more expensive than the homes of some of her patients. He was leaning on a cane. She lowered her head and forced a polite smile.

“Forgive me,” she said. “I thought you were someone else. Our Martyred Father welcomes you to his temple. Can I help you, Saer?”

The man smiled and then moved closer to her. A pained expression came over his face as he began to walk. She quickly moved over to him once she saw that his legs were troubling him. She let him lean on her as she moved him to sit on the bench. He was wearing some expensive perfume and there was some other unidentifiable smell that violated her nostrils as she did so, though she was too polite to wrinkle her nose at it.

“Thank you, dear,” the man said. “I have come for the ‘alleviation of my suffering’ as so many others do at this temple of yours. I merely wanted to have a look around, when I stumbled upon you.”

That did seem odd. She could not help looking him over again. The temples of Ilmater usually only helped the poor, the old and the unfortunate. This man looked like he did not fall into any of those categories. He was middle-aged and clearly wealthy. He smiled at her expression.

“Yes, I am aware that I may not look like your other patients,” he said. “Though I can assure you that I am in dire need of help, with no family or loved ones to take care of me. Please sit.”

She lowered her gaze. She had not meant to be so transparent in her thoughts. She sat down beside him, leaving some space between them.

“Apologies,” she said. “Any and all who are suffering are welcomed in the temple.”

He chuckled at that.

“My, what an apologetic young lady you are,” he said. “You have not wronged me in any way or sense, dear, so let us put a lid on all the ‘forgive me’s and ‘apologies’. It does get so awfully tiring with repetition in conversation.”

“Forgive—” she stopped herself and sighed before looking at him with a polite smile. “I should go inside, Saer.”

When she looked at him, there was a hint of concern on his features. He reached out and cradled her face with his hand and ran a thumb over her cheek. She froze completely at the touch.

“You’ve been crying,” he cooed. “Poor thing.”

She removed his hand with the wariness of someone removing a knife that was being held to their throat.

“Saer—”

“Raphael,” he said.

“Raphael…” she repeated and gave him a tight smile. “I had thought that Father Marcus might have explained this to you when you arrived, but it is strictly forbidden to touch any of the clerics here. But no worries…You did not know, but please do remember this in the future.”

“My apologies,” he said in a tone that slightly suggested that he did not mean it in the least. “I too have a difficult time ignoring other people’s suffering, I’m afraid. I would assume we have that in common, my dear. What is your name?”

“Chastity,” she said and folded her hands in her lap.

“Chastity…” he repeated, a smile widening on his face “What a lovely name…And why is it that the clerics here are not to be touched? I would assume that you are allowed to touch your patients, or else it would make your mission here very difficult.”

“Some of the clerics here have taken vows,” she explained. “We touch the patients, yes, but they are not allowed to touch the clerics.”

He nodded. He kept trying to chase her eye contact with the angle of his head every time she lowered her gaze.

“Aah yes, I see,” he purred. “There are three different vows that clerics of Ilmater can undertake, isn’t there? Should I venture a guess which category you fall under, Chastity?”

She smiled at his little joke out of politeness.

“You are quite observant,” she said.

“That I am. So, tell me, Chastity,” he said. “Who is this ‘Lucian’ to you? It was his grave you were weeping at, was it not?”

She looked up at him at the mention of Lucian’s name. Her expression fell into one of sadness, but she quickly schooled her features.

“A former patient of mine,” she answered in a quiet voice. “I really should get back inside. There is so much work to do.”

She got up from the bench, and the man’s gaze followed her as she did.

“And things were just getting interesting,” he said in feigned disappointment. “No matter. I’m certain I will see you around. It was a pleasure to meet you, Chastity.”

“And you, Saer,” she replied quickly before rushing inside.

“Chastity, a moment please, when you are done.”

She looked up at Father Marcus. She feared that she was in trouble or that her daily visits to the graveyard had been discovered. She turned her attention back to her patient and gave her a tight smile as she tried to push down her anxiety and finish bandaging her up. Once she was done, she wiped her bloodied hands in a piece of cloth and walked up to Father Marcus.

“Yes, Father?” she asked.

Father Marcus was quiet for a moment too long like he always was. He was looking at her intently, his brow furrowing and the wrinkles there creasing as he studied her, as if he was trying to remember what he was supposed to ask her. He was getting old, so she was beginning to get used to it.

“Oh yes,” he said. “You are going to a house in the Upper City later today.”

She was relieved that she was not in trouble, but she was however confused about his request. They never visited the homes of their patients, as they were always transported to the temple for care instead. She did have a vague idea of who she would be visiting, however. She had only met one patient who seemed wealthy enough to live in that part of the city.

“The Upper City, Father?” she asked. “What for exactly?”

“There is a man who needs alleviating,” Father Marcus answered. “I have the directions written down for you.”

“But Father we never—”

The old man looked away and waved his hand. A gesture she was more than familiar with throughout her time at the temple, meaning: We are done speaking. Do as I say. She sighed. It irked her to have to walk all the way to the Upper City for this patient. They never made exceptions. This was preferential treatment to someone who was rich, and that was not what the temple or Ilmater’s teachings stood for.

She took the scroll from his hand and read it. It contained directions and the necessary supplies she needed to bring. She gathered what she needed and left the temple. She rarely ever left the temple, and she hated walking around in the city. There was so much suffering everywhere: orphans, people who were selling themselves, people without homes… There was enough to fill the temple a hundred times.

The amount of suffering around her lessened the closer she got to the Upper City. Then it was the disgusting level of excess and greed that made her uncomfortable. The people around her were dressed in clothing so expensive that it could feed multiple families in the Lower City. She eventually made it to the grand mansion of her patient. A tiefling servant let her inside and herded her to his master’s chambers.

It was an odd feeling to walk through the halls of the mansion. There were small signs here and there that suggested a larger family with children lived there, and yet, it was completely quiet and empty. Surely, if there had been a larger family living there, Raphael would not have needed the help of the temple. Then again, it could be that he had lost his family or some other misfortune. Father Marcus had always taught her that it was best not to meddle and to keep your mouth shut, so she did.

When she entered Raphael’s chambers, he was seated in an armchair, reading a book. His cane was resting against the chair. He looked up at her when she entered and gave her a big smile before gesturing to the servant to leave them.

“Chastity,” he greeted. “How lovely that you could take the time out of your no doubt very busy schedule to visit me. I would get up to greet you properly, but I am sure you will forgive this rude lack of formality. My legs are aching terribly.”

She bowed her head in greeting. She felt awkward. She had not been in a room alone with a patient ever. There had always been other patients or clerics about somewhere. Not only that, but she was in a room alone with a man. It did something to her nerves. She moved closer.

“I have brought some potions that should help,” she said quietly and fiddled with the bag of supplies in her hands.

He looked her up and down, his gaze landing on her face. He was studying her.

“Is something the matter?” he asked in a gentle voice. “You’re shaking.”

“Forgive me—”

Raphael stopped her with a finger in the air, as if to remind her of their previous conversation and his opinion on her apologetic nature. She shut her mouth and gave him a tightlipped smile.

“This is new to me,” she explained. “We never venture outside the temple unless it is urgent, or we are bringing in a new patient.”

“Ah, I see,” he said and nodded. “No need to be nervous here. I won’t harm you. I can also assure you that this might be a wonderful opportunity for you. I tend to help those who help me, as I am sure your dear Father Marcus can confirm.”

Ah. Raphael was donating to the temple and that was the reason for this preferential treatment. She should have known. It put more pressure on her, because the gods know that the temple needed the gold.

She simply nodded and came closer. She looked at Raphael’s legs and then at his face.

“I’ll need to examine you first,” she said. “This would really be easier if you were laying down. Do you think we can move you to the bed?”

“No, I’m afraid not,” he answered.

She looked him over again and then gave him a little nod. She sat down on the carpet in front of him with her knees under her. She could have sworn she saw Raphael smirk as she lowered herself to the floor. She could feel his eyes on her, though she kept her gaze lowered.

“Please tell me if anything hurts,” she said and gently put her hands on one of his calves.

She pressed slightly to feel for knots or any deformities. There was nothing. His calf was surprisingly muscular for someone who could not move around much, she noticed. She felt his other leg and the result was the same.

“It’s further up,” he said.

She moved her hands to his knee and pressed down gently on it. Nothing.

“Further,” he purred.

She glanced up at him for a moment before moving her hands up to his lower thigh.

“Further…”

She moved her hands up further and he made a show of wincing.

“Yes, right there,” he groaned.

She pressed on his upper thigh, feeling her way around it. She massaged it slightly, making him groan again.

“I don’t feel any knots or anything,” she stated and moved to the other thigh to do the same thing.

As she did, she suddenly noticed the growing bulge in his pants. She looked the other way and continued her work. It was not unusual. This sometimes happened with male patients and often they could not control it, she had been taught. Though most usually had the decency to be embarrassed, but not him. After a few more moments she let go of his leg and got up off the floor. She grabbed her bag of supplies and brought them to his desk.

“I hope you do not mind that I borrow your space,” she said. “In my hurry, I did not have the time to prepare the potions beforehand.”

“Please,” he said and gestured to the desk. “Did I embarrass you, dear? That pretty red skin of yours seems a tad more red than usual, if my eyes do not fail me.”

There was clear amusement in his voice. She turned her back to him as she worked on the potions. She was flustered. So flustered that a reply did not come. He chuckled at her silence.

“Tell me, Chastity,” he said. “What is the purpose of swearing a vow like yours?”

She fumbled a bit with the ingredients in her hands as she was asked that question. By Ilmater’s hands, why was this man making her so uncomfortable? She steadied her hand and took a deep breath before replying.

“Because I want to be of service to Ilmater. Because my parents handed me to the temple when they both got sick and soon after died. I chose the virtue name Chastity and swore a vow soon after. I want to honor them by helping others, like the temple tried to help my parents and I, and the best way to do so is to stay focused on a greater purpose instead of the selfish desires that control us. That is why I took my vow.”

“My condolences,” he said from behind her. “I have always found the odd tradition of tiefling virtue names to seem so limiting. Surely, all of ones goals cannot be summed up so easily…but as long as you are happy, of course …”

She was relieved when he seemed to let it go. She kept cutting the ingredients to the potion in peace, enjoying the quiet despite still feeling tense. She could feel him staring into her back. He spoke again after a long while.

“I hope you will excuse my curiosity, but…have you ever been with anyone?” he asked casually.

“No,” she answered without hesitation. “And I never will.”

“Not even your dear Lucian?” he asked in that same casual tone.

A shiver ran down her back at the question. It was all too personal all of a sudden. She shook her head before looking at him.

“Please don’t speak of him to me,” she warned, though she tried to keep her tone light and cordial.

Raphael ignored her warning.

“His death weighs heavily on you, doesn’t it?” he asked with feigned concern. “Father Marcus told me that he almost did not get a proper burial, since he owes his soul to a devil. How very unfortunate.”

She could feel the tears welling up in her eyes at the mention of it.

“Don’t,” she said. “Please…”

“I am sorry, my dear,” he said in a soft voice. “I did not mean to upset you. I simply meant what a terrible situation that must be. You clearly loved him. You had taken care of him for so long and you don’t even get the peace of knowing that he is in a better place. Instead, you are left here all alone, with no one to hold you or comfort you as you bear the burden of so many on your shoulders. I feel for you, I truly do.”

She was shaking again, but not from being uncomfortable. She was instead trying to hold back her emotions. It was scary how well this stranger knew of her situation. A tear rolled down her cheek and she hastily wiped it away with the sleeve of her robe.

“Shhh-shh-shh, it’s fine, my dear. Cry,” he cooed gently and held out a hand to her. “Come here.”

She stared at his hand as if it would strike out and hit her. She was not supposed to let others touch her. On the other hand, Father Marcus would be furious if she lost them a sponsor that they definitely needed with the way things were. That is not to mention all the people they could help with this man’s money.

She swallowed hard and walked closer to him. He took her hand and pulled her to sit in his lap in one swift movement. She struggled, but his firm grip around her waist did not allow her to move away. One of his hands went up to cradle her head and push it gently to his shoulder, like a parent comforting a child might do.

“Relax,” he cooed and gently ran his fingers through her hair. “I won’t hurt you and no one has to know. It will be our little secret, hm?”

She could not control it. She started sobbing. She had not been held, let alone touched, by anyone since her parents died. She found herself clinging to this stranger that she barely knew. She would crawl into him if she could. The closeness was intoxicating. For a moment she felt safe and cared for.

“Oh, sweet girl,” he cooed. “Let me help carry the burden of all that suffering you have held for others for so many years.”

She nodded. She could barely breathe from crying so much. He nuzzled his nose into her hair and then whispered in her ear.

“You have been so awfully kind to me, Chastity,” he whispered. “Let me be kind to you in return. If you keep assisting me and being so wonderfully obedient, then I promise to rid you of all of your troubles. I will return your beloved Lucian to you so he will not have to suffer anymore.”

She felt a painful glimmer of hope in her heart. She sniffled into his doublet.

“You can’t bring him back…”

Raphael placed a chaste kiss on the top of her head.

“No, I’m afraid I can’t,” he said. “But I can put an end to his suffering. I happen to have some very powerful connections, you know. I can retrieve his soul from the Hells and give it to you.”

She shakes her head and dries her tears. It was too good to be true.

“I don’t believe you,” she said.

He smiled and pulled something from his pocket. A large iron coin. He handed it to her. She could feel immediately that it was not a normal coin. It felt familiar when she held it. It was as if she was sitting at Lucian’s bed, listening to his terrible jokes and laughing with him. The coin felt like him. There was both awe and sadness in her eyes as her breath hitched and tears started falling once again. Raphael gently took it from her hands and stuffed it back in his pocket.

“Do you believe me now?” he asked and caressed her side in a comforting manner.

“How did you—”

“Ah,” he interrupted with a smile. “I cannot tell you, but I am a man of my word. If you serve me, I’ll serve you.”

“Why?” she asked next. “Why me?”

Raphael ran his hand up and down her side as he studied her with a smile.

“Like I said, I find it difficult to see people suffering around me,” he purred and let go off her so she could move off his lap. “Off you go back to your temple, dear…before you have any unholy thoughts. If I see you again, I will take it as an agreement to this little arrangement.”

Her mind was buzzing with thoughts as she left the mansion and the Upper City.

[takadokii]

✴ extra: 2:47 !! ‧₊.࿐

summary Gojo likes speaking to you late at night and smalltalking you to sleep so he can finally mutter the words he really wants to get off his chest. The ones he's far too afraid to say when you're awake. pairing high school!gojo satoru x f!reader tags gojo is annoying (canon.....)warnings little bit of childhood gojo angst word count 1.3k links collection ; taglist

this is an additional chapter of my series "caught in the middle", if you enjoyed this, consider checking it out! 🩵

At first, you confuse the blaring noise with the sound of your alarm, so in a weird way, you're almost relieved when your left eye opens a little to discover the moon is still up, shining through the cracks in your blinds. It was practically full tonight, you note, so close one could confuse it for being full already.

You grin at the thought of having a few more hours of sleep before getting up. That is if, whoever decided to call you at this ungodly hour would make it quick.

You were hoping for a spam call or a wrong number, but when the name Gojo glared back at you, your hope for some rest evaporated in front of your squinting eyes.

"What?"

"Wooow, is that a way to say good morning to your best friend, hmm?"

"It's not morning, nor is it good."

"You didn't deny I was your best friend, though."

You sigh. Placing the phone next to your head, you let yourself fall back into the pillow. It was now slightly colder, something that eased your misery.

"I'm so telling Shoko!"

"Did you need something, Gojo?" You try to get back on topic, knowing that was close to impossible considering it's Gojo. There's a raspiness in your voice that Satoru's lacked, telling you he must have been up these past few hours.

"No, just wanted someone to talk to, and Suguru still has my number blocked!" 

"... that's an excellent idea, actually."

"You wouldn't! Don't even pretend," he smiles. The smugness in his voice would have annoyed you if you were more awake.

"So, how was your day?" He finally speaks, and you can hear his smile.

"Was okay, work was boring, but I didn't have to do much cuz Aki was there."

"Aki…? " You heard him mumble under his breath, deep in thought, "Ahh, I remember! That little brown-haired guy with the big fat crush on you!"

You make a noise of agreement.

"What's up with him? He still into you?"

"Mmm, I dunno, maybe. But more importantly! Today, this guy came in and offered me 3000 yen if I would go and eat with him!"

"No way, that's not enough," Satoru scoffed in disbelief.

"It's really not! And He was like three times my age or something. It was really gross."

The two of you are silent for a little. Satoru doesn't mind. He even thinks you've fallen asleep for a second there. He's sitting by the windowsill, it's not cold underneath his skin, and his bear back against the wall felt as though they were the same temperature. He lets himself get lost in the thoughts of how warm your hands were in comparison, how everything about you radiated a warmth he could never really produce on his own. He longed for it, both to be warm and to feel yours.

The thought that you would probably flinch away at his cold touch made him frown, and he wondered if that was the only reason. Hoped that if his hands were just a little warmer, there would be a content smile on your face instead, and you'd simply squeeze it back.

"How was your day?" You finally ask in return.

His head snaps towards his phone screen, he got so lost in his thoughts he forgot you were still there.

"Good. I've been thinking about your book and... what I said about it. I thought maybe I should give it a try," Satoru smiles, "so I can properly make fun of it, of course."

You hum, "Didn't know you could read."

He ignores your comment.

"But you have to lend me your copy. I'm too embarrassed to have that in my purchase history."

You huff in disbelief. 

"I'm sure you've got worse things in there. Remember when Shoko found your-"

"Okaaay , enough!" he interrupts, raising his voice just enough to cut you off. The little giggle he can hear along with the rustling of your sheets brings a grin to his face nonetheless.

"So that's why you called me? To have small talk and cadge my romance novels?"

The question makes him frown, and he dislikes the thought that you'd assume he'd need a reason to call you in the first place.

He wonders if Suguru sometimes calls you just because, if you fall asleep on the phone together or send each other little updates on your days. He wonders if you would have answered with a more lively tone and quicker if it was his best friend.

He counted five rings when he called.

"I guess…" he begins, but you accept this as an answer already, unaware Satoru was playing with the drawstring of his pants, trying his hardest to mutter the words burning on the tip of his tongue.

"I guess I just missed you," he finally breaths.

He's met with silence and hates it, tapping a rhythm against the window to break it.

"Did you hear me?" He whispers, embarrassment and disappointment washing over him.

You don't respond.

He counts about 3 minutes to conclude you've fallen asleep again, and it's confirmed when he can hear your soft breathing through the phone.

Tiptoeing towards his mattress, he lays down, puts the phone on his pillow and scoots over a little. He doesn't bother putting the blanket over his body, knowing it wouldn't make a difference. He assumes this is how you must be lying right now, and he imagines turning his head, closing his phone and finding you lying there.

Warm and breathing, softly.

"To be honest… I've been having this dream about you lately, and..." Satoru waits, in case you woke up again, in case you were pretending to sleep or actually on the toilet without telling him earlier.

He waits for just about five rings.

"I'm kinda scared I'll have that dream again... I've never really had that, you know."

It must be the almost full moon that makes him so melancholic tonight as he reflects on his life thus far. The empty apartment he stayed in during holidays, big enough for a family of three generations, the one his father had dismissively given him the key to. 

Occupied just by Satoru, the house was cold, even during the summer. It was quiet most of the time, simply lacking the warmth of being lived in, of people. 

He remembered back in middle school, playing tennis for a year and hockey for two after that. He remembers walking home from tournaments, his racket or helmet tossed in the trash on the way somewhere to make space for a trophy he was hoping to hide, putting them at the bottom of his drawer as soon as he entered his room. He'd announce he quit the club on the dinner table and it was met with a hum or silence.

During all this, he remembers training with his mother every evening and with his trainer every morning and noon. He remembers wearing his best clothes on the weekends and sitting beside his aunts as they gushed about their nephew.

"The future head of the Gojo clan." 

He had heard this phrase in a million tones, in a million ways, from a million people.

Laced into their tone was often malice, jealousy, pity and occasionally pride.

"I've never really…" he starts, and he suddenly feels like crying. He remembers a conversation with you long ago, which makes the feeling in his chest even heavier. "... had something to dream about."

His next breaths are shaky, and he's surprised by the sound of them. 

He wonders if you can hear it through the phone.

He stays like that, lying on his back, hand on his chest as he listens to the pounding of his heart matching his uneven breathing.

"Anyway... It's late," he looks at the clock on his nightstand: 3.07, next to it is a picture of the four of you in your first year, Shoko's face pressed against yours, you're smiling brightly one arm around her and the other around Suguru, who holds back a grin as he looks at you. Satoru is standing next to him, arm on his shoulder, eyes closed.

"Too late, maybe," he chuckles drily.

"Goodnight," he whispers, before a bittersweet smile dares to form on his lips, "dream of me too, okay?"

He hangs up before you can answer.

thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoy! If you're interested in more of this dynamic then please check out "Tales of the Cursed!"

Love, jae 🩵

[minimomoe]

Love Bites

Baker Fem Reader x Toji Fushiguro (mafia au)

word ct: 15.1k, 11 Chapters

tags: Fluff, grumpy x sunshine, found family, a little angsty but nothing too bad, marriage proposal, established relationship, (last chapter only: kitchen sex, creampie, oral- fem receiving, other sexxy funtime stuff)

Chapter Eight: Sparkling Juice

“I want you to open my present first!” Yuji shoves his present into your hands. Nobara plucks the haphazardly wrapped present out of your hands and puts her own to replace it. It had crisp edges and was topped with a bow. “She’s obviously going to open mine first, Yuji!”

“The only correct answer is opening mine first,” Megumi says, taking the basket holding your present out of his white dog’s mouth. Both black and white dogs had reindeer horns, but the white dog had Rudolph's nose attached to his snout. You laughs

 as the kids argue with each other, and Toji watches you from across the room. He smiles to himself, adoring the way that you are fully relaxed with everybody in the family. The dogs lay beside your feet, their tails wagging lazily and tongues lolling. Before the kids dragged you to open their presents, you were showing off the christmas sweater you had handknitted to Suguru, which you had made for Megumi and Toji to wear as well. Toji didn’t know how you knew his size so well, and the same went for Megumi, but they both fit perfectly. Forest green cable knit sweaters that had snowflakes carefully embroidered into it. You had shyly presented them to Toji and Megumi along with their other presents, as if you were afraid they wouldn’t like your first gift. He was speechless when he opened the box. How you managed to make them both sweaters and take care of the bakery was a mystery to him. Megumi had taken off his shirt right away and put it on, then tightly hugged you. Toji followed suit and ignored the pestering questions from Sukuna who wanted you to make him a sweater too. 

You open Megumi’s small box first as he wished and you are greeted with a tiny ceramic butterfly. It’s a blue morpho, and in one of the wings your name was painted into it. You gasp and carefully take it out of the packaging. 

“You made this?” You say in a hush voice. 

“Yep. You said butterflies were your favorite!” Megumi smiles up at you. 

“I mentioned that ages ago. Thank you, Gumi-bear,” you wrap your arms around him and press kisses into his forehead. The little boy's face was beet red when you let go of him, but when he turns to face Yuji and Nobara he sticks out his tongue. 

“Beat that!” 

When the gift exchange is over you, the kids, and the rest of the adults move to the dining area to eat. Gojo decided to be the host of Christmas this year, and you could tell that he really loved it. Him and his girlfriend decorated the chairs and seating arrangements with tiny Santas and wreaths. Glasses of non alcoholic, sparkling juice in fancy champagne flutes were placed right in front of the plates and Yuji grabs his and downs it in one sip. Nobara is quick to smack the back of his head and lectures him on table manners. You sit in between Toji and Megumi, and directly across from you sat Choso and his partner. She’s a pretty yet quiet girl, just like you. You give a soft smile and she returns it. Toji grabs your hand under the table and brings it up to your lips. 

“After we eat we can go home. I still have to give you your present,” he says. 

“You got a present to give me, big guy?” Sukuna says from down the table. Toji shoots him an annoyed look but everybody else snickers. 

“Yeah, let me get the right sized boot to shove my foot up your ass. You can keep it after that.”

“Language,” Nanami warns, making the other two men stop barking at each other. He carries a gorgeous honeyed ham baked to perfection from the kitchen. “Do you want ham?” He asked you softly and you nod enthusiastically.

“Did you make this yourself? It smells amazing, Kento.”

He grins and cuts you a slice. “Nanamin is a great cook. He makes a lovely wife,” Gojo pipes up. 

“Being a housewife doesn’t sound too bad,” he mutters for only you to hear and winks. “I poisoned one item on your plate,” he says offhandedly to Gojo. “Eat it if you dare.” 

Gojo gasps dramatically and all the children burst into laughter. The meal was filled with jokes and laughter the entire time. You forgot how wonderful Christmas is when you have people to share it with. 

You and Toji decided to leave once Megumi could barely hold his head up anymore. He had stayed up all night just for the sake of staying up and now the lack of sleep was catching up to him. Toji hauls him in his arms while you carry all the gifts you three received and herd the dogs into the car. Toji safely buckles Megumi in and climbs into the driver seat and immediately holds your hand. 

“You didn’t cry this time,” he comments when he starts the car. You roll your eyes and scoff. 

“I didn’t cry on thanksgiving! I had something in my eye.”

“For thirty minutes?”

“Eyes lashes are tiny,” you mumble and he laughs. “So… do I have to beg for my present or is it waiting for me when we get home?”

“I like it when you beg but it’s already there.” Toji runs his thumb over your knuckles. You stare at him curiously but if Toji didn’t want to explain something you couldn’t get more information out of him. What you did notice is the nervous tapping his forefinger made on the steering wheel, making you wonder what sort of present could make him this nervous. 

Arriving at Toji’s home looked the same as always. You thought maybe he had gotten you a new car but that didn’t seem to be the case. You gather the presents once again and the dogs dash into the backyard. Megumi, bleary eyed and still sleepy, forces himself to walk so that he can see your present too. Toji stills at the entrance into the houses and looks back at you one last time. “This is only one part, but I figured you should see this first.”

“Open the door!” You and Megumi say together, and you drum on his arm and he shakes his head. 

He opens the door and you enter the home hand in hand with Megumi. There was nothing new that you could see immediately. The foyer looks the same, there’s nothing on the stairs or in the living room. You look back to give Toji a confused look and he points to the dining area. You creep over there, noting the way that Megumi’s hand tightens around yours. To your surprise it’s not an object that’s waiting for you in the dining chair, but rather a person who’s back was facing you. The person hears you moving behind them and turns around, making you freeze completely. 

“Merry Christmas,” the man says to you, and tears quickly fill your eyes. 

“Ezra?”

Chapters: I. II. III. IV. V. VI. VII. VIII. IX. X. XI.

M.list || Ao3 || Twitter || Ko-fi

[bluerose5]

Gale: Supper is ready! Anders, put that book down and come eat.

Anders: One moment. I'm almost done with this chapter.

Gale: Now, Anders.

Anders: *ignores him*

Gale: Alright then, I hate that it had to come to this— *takes a deep breath*

Anders: No, no, no. Dont. You. Dare.

Gale: TARA!

Anders: You ass!

Tara: Mr. Dekarios, no need to shout. Tell me, what is all this ruckus about?

Gale: Anders isn't eating dinner.

Anders: I was going to! I was just caught up in reading this book, and I—

Tara, disappointed: Oh, Mr. Anders, that simply won't do! I admire a fellow scholar's thirst for knowledge as much as the next wizard, but you are already as thin as a pole, my dear! You need some meat on those bones. Surely you could spare a minute or two for a tiny morsel, yes?

Anders: ... Yes.

Gale: 😌

Tara: Great! Now that this matter is resolved, you two behave. I must return to sir Astarion's side. We were exchanging stories of our various prey, and he was sharing the most riveting tale about a bear. How exciting!

Anders, waiting until she is out of earshot: I hate you.

Gale, bowl of stew already in hand: No, you don't.

Anders: Can't believe you used Tara against me. That has to be the highest crime imaginable.

Gale: And it works every time.

[leclercsredhelmet]

A Writer and a Driver ✮ Mick Schumacher

A/N: Hi again! I come bearing another blurb, this time inspired by so high school and dear Mick!

“ I feel so high school every time I look at you”

Time was not a concept to you as of this moment, being unaware of what time it was you felt a certain sense of bliss. Your phone had long been discarded in your room since the early hours of the morning. Now that you pause to think about this, it was more than likely that your phone had never left your bedside table back in your shared bedroom with your boyfriend. Surely you had been in this chair for hours, and your back was starting to feel it, but you ignored it and kept staring at your computer screen writing, deleting, and rewriting sentences, all while consulting the beat-up notebook and stray papers around your table.

A long-forgotten mug with what undeniably was cold coffee sat there. Your boyfriend had replaced it before he left, he still wasn’t back or hadn’t called but that didn’t worry you. You knew that he was still training, normally he wouldn’t be out until late afternoon training but tomorrow you’d both be going on holiday in Mallorca and he liked to train for extra hours before taking a trip.

Judging by how the sun's rays were changing color you know it was late afternoon and the sun would start setting soon. Standing up you rinsed the mug and grabbed a water bottle from the fridge, sitting back down to write some more. As you were finishing up the last chapter of the day you heard the door open and close followed by footsteps and a bag being placed on the couch. A familiar set of lips placed soft kisses from your jawline to your lips and you smiled while looking up at Mick. “Hallo, Mein Leibe,” Mick said, “Hola, amor” you replied in your native tongue.

“Stil writing?” he softly inquired, “Yeah, how was training?” you asked. “Good, did quite a lot of miles cycling, I covered enough for the next three days,” he said with a little laugh and you giggled. “Have you eaten since I left?” he asked. “No, I got so wrapped up in writing that I forgot” you admitted. Mick looked at you concerned, “Liebchen, I thought we agreed on you taking breaks to eat.” “I know, I just wanted to write enough to not worry about it on holiday, but I’m done now,” you said and saved your work and closed your computer.

Standing up you hugged Mick, “Don’t do that again, while I’m out. I worry about you” he said softly. “Promise, this is what you got into when you decided to date an overachieving writer, editor, and book publisher,” you said and he laughed. “That doesn’t mean you need to stay hours without food, I know you get hyperfocused but let’s practice taking food breaks please” he pleaded and you nodded. “Have you written outside or were you cooped up in here?” “Uhm, in here,” you said sheepishly. “We’re having dinner on the balcony and going for a walk around town after,” he said. Smiling you kissed his cheek, “Thank you for worrying about me” you said gratefully and he hugged you.

“You do the same for me, I have to take care of my next great novelist,” he said and you laughed, “And I have to take care of my returning f1 driver and endurance racing champion” you replied. “For the record, you’re my favorite writer,” he said pinching your nose and you giggled. “For the record, you’re my favorite driver,” you replied poking his ribs. “Before or after Charles?” he questioned and you laughed. “Always before, you’re my eternal p1, and Charlie’s one of my closest friends,” you replied with a smile. “A writer and a driver make quite a great pair,” he said grabbing your waist and you laughed because it tickled a little. “You know how to drive and I know Aristotle, we just work perfectly” you added.

Mick smiled and led you to your shared bedroom, he motioned for you to sit on the bed while he disappeared into the bathroom. Hearing him shuffle around you figured he must’ve been looking for something.

Minutes later he led you to the bathroom, he had filled the tub with water and bubbles, and prepared the tray with your scrubs and essential oils. He had lit your favorite scented candles and set the robe and warm towel out for you. “Stay there and relax while I make us some dinner,” he said kissing your cheek and disappearing. Chuckling at his gesture you peeled your pieces of clothing off and tossed them into the hamper, staying in the cold bath water you relaxed and when you’d soaked for long enough you drained the water and rinsed the bathwater off.

With a warm robe around your body and a towel around your hair, you put the candles, oils, and soaps away before getting dressed. The smell of pasta filled the hallway and living room, making your way to the kitchen you smiled at the sight. Mick had his back to you and he moved around effortlessly while he cooked, a kitchen towel was hanging by his shoulders. Standing next to him you pecked his cheek and asked if he needed help with cooking, he denied and you giggled before getting the plates out.

The small table on the balcony had been prepared and you brought two wine glasses, and a bottle of white wine to the table. Mick was right in tow with the plates, sitting down you poured the wine and ate while you talked about your plans for Mallorca. “You want more pasta liebchen? I can go get it?” Mick asked noticing your empty plate, “No, I’m good, amor” you replied. “Are you sure? I don’t mind getting you some more” he asked. “I promise, I’m good, thank you” you replied as you reached over to grab his hand. He twisted your hand and started to play with your fingers, you stayed out looking at the stars before going inside to wash the dishes. Mick went to shower and you decided to look for a sweater to put over your shirt before heading out for a night stroll around town.

Hand in hand you walked around town, enjoying each other’s company and the slight breeze. “Are you excited about next season?” you asked. “Yeah, I’m very grateful to be back, but I can’t wait to spend the break with you and do light traveling,” he said. With a smile, you leaned your head on his shoulder and he pulled you in tighter by the waist. “If there’s one thing I’m going to miss is you being near home,” you said. “I know, but hopefully now that your job is more stable you can come with me,” he said. “As long as I can you’ll always have me on your side of the garage,” you replied. “This time wearing a Rosso Corsa cap with my number on it,” he said with a cheeky smile. “Forza Ferrari” you replied and he grinned.

“I never thought they’d take me back, not after being a reserve for Mercedes, and endurance driver for Alpine,” he said. “Amor, it’s not like you’re a stranger to them, you were in the FDA and hey after Lewis’s move to the Scuderia, anything is possible, you’ve worked endlessly to get a seat and you got it. Be proud of yourself, everyone is” you said kissing his cheek. “I love you,” he said. “I love you more,” you replied. “Lewis being retired is something I didn’t see coming until later but at least he’s joining Seb, Mark, and Jenson in the club,” he said, “Our favorite retired grid dads,” you said with a laugh. Mick threw his head back and laughed. Noticing that your favorite gelateria was open you went inside to buy pistachio gelatos and ate them on a bench outside.

Something as simple as a home-cooked meal, a night stroll, and a shared gelato with Mick was your very own definition of happiness. Whenever you looked at him it felt like you were sneaking with him under the bleachers during lunch at high school, it was all so high school.

(all photo credits go to the respective owners)