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rioromanoffroses · 5 months ago

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Ovulation

G!P Natasha Romanoff x Fem Reader

Warnings: 18+ content, masturbating, oral sex (R and Natasha receiving), finger sucking, dry humping, fingering, unprotected sex (P in V), overstimulation

Summary: You're ovulating while on a mission, causing you to be uncomfortably aroused. Luckily, the agent with you is more than eager to help you out...

WC: 4.1k

The motel was just like any other – grey, dusty and lit only by dim off-white. You would only be here for a night and when you pressed your hand against the cold metal of the radiator, you were glad. You debated whether or not you ask the receptionist about it but keeping your head low was key when travelling on an undercover mission. The more questions you asked and the more times your face was seen and captured by CCTV, the greater the risks. You decided against it.

You inspected the bedroom, following safety procedures which included searching for signs of any electronic devices but luckily, there were none. The bed was a small double with beige, striped sheets that were thinner than you would’ve liked. The back wall was taken up entirely by a sturdy, wooden cupboard that matched the tawny-brown, bedside tables covered in dust. You switched on the lamp and ran your hand over the mattress, noting that you would need to wear thick layers of clothing to bed. You assumed the other bedroom was the same but didn’t bother checking. The other agent could do that.

You sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing your forehead with the palm of your hand. One of the things you hated most about being a woman and a spy was the problems it caused when it conflicted with your cycle. Missions on your period were uncomfortable, draining and painful. Ovulation week was also a mess; you had no way of dealing with the surge of hormones it triggered while on a mission. You made a mental note to take a cold shower after the other agent arrived.

You read over the intel for the upcoming mission while you waited for them, straining your ears for the door. It was a complicated mission; you had to infiltrate the base of a growing terrorist organisation and hack into their systems to gather as much information about them as you could. S.H.I.E.L.D. knew scarily little about the organisation so you were going in almost blind – anything could happen.

The plan was for two agents, including you, to blend in as one of the terrorists to get into the base. You were unaware of the identity of the agent you were paired with. You were curious to know if they were someone you’d worked with before or a complete stranger. You assumed the latter – you were still young and hadn’t been assigned to many difficult missions yet. You tightened your arms around yourself, shivering as the light outside the window was sucked from the sky, the moon blocked out by an array of dark, restless clouds.

“You look cold.” You jumped and leapt on your feet, spinning around to see a woman standing behind you. Her face was painted with a smirk and she looked at you with her hands on her hips, her jade eyes travelling up and down your body. You swallowed. How did you not hear her come in? S.H.I.E.L.D. weren’t exaggerating when they said she was the very best they had at espionage. You didn’t realise you were staring at her until she brought you out of your thoughts, “Cat got your tongue?”

“Uh, sorry,” you said, clearing your throat, “Yeah, I am. East Europe is always freezing at this time of year.” You could feel sweat trickling down your neck. Not only were you ovulating on a mission but you were stuck with an extremely attractive woman during it. You were so fucked.

“Mm, it is,” she said, stepping towards you and offering out her hand. You noticed the electrified branches of azure and emerald running down her arms up to her fingers, pushing up against the skin, your heart thundering against your ribcage. You quickly pulled yourself out of your trance. You were a spy for goodness sake, not the nervous wreck or helpless whore your elevated levels of estrogen were making you feel like. You shook her hand.

“It’s nice to meet you,” you said, “I’m Agent Y/l/n.” You pulled your hand away from hers before she could pick up on your clammy palms but unbeknownst to you, she’d already felt them.

“I know,” she said, “I’m Agent Romanoff but to you, it’s Natasha.” You could feel your breath hitch in your throat. Natasha. You could already imagine how those three, pretty syllables would feel falling off your tongue.

You dismissed your dirty thoughts immediately, feeling ashamed of yourself. She was a stranger and your teammate; you seriously needed to pull yourself together. She nodded to the file in your hand, “I see you’re already prepared for the mission.”

“I was just double-checking all the details,” you said. The tight, black shirt and jeans she was wearing hugged her in all the right places, her sculpted arms in full view to you. She must take her training seriously, you thought, I wonder how often she goes to the gym.

“Good,” she said, dropping her bag on the floor, “I already know I’ll enjoy working with you.” You placed your hands behind your back so she couldn’t see your fidgeting fingers. Your gaze fell onto the bag and you frowned.

“Oh, were you planning on sleeping in here?” You said, “I’ll move to the other room then.” She held her arm in front of you as you stepped towards the door.

“There isn’t another room.” You felt your heart drop. You realised the other door must be to the bathroom. You couldn’t imagine how your situation could get any worse, “Are you unhappy with that arrangement?”

“No, not at all,” you lied, “I just didn’t expect it, that’s all.” You swallowed, hard. You started moving towards the door, “I’m going to take a shower,” you mumbled, not waiting for her answer. You fumbled with the handle, cursing under your breath and slammed the door shut behind you.

You didn’t waste any time taking off your clothes and turning on the shower, sighing as the cold droplets collided with your burning skin. The water only offered you a few moments of relief, however. The more you thought about the redhead and how close you’d be together that night, the more you fed the raging arousal between your legs. It became clear that there was only one way you were going to calm yourself down.

You covered your hand with your mouth as you touched yourself, your mind overwhelmed by images of Natasha. It didn’t take long for you to reach your climax and you were certain that the sound of the shower and your hand had muffled out all your moans. You cleaned yourself before stepping out, drying yourself with a towel and getting dressed, praying that your body would be satisfied for the night. When you returned to the bedroom, Natasha was on the bed facing you, resting a pillow on her lap.

“You’re even prettier in real life than you are in your pictures,” she said, the unexpected compliment drowning you in butterflies. You noticed that her cheeks were flushed a bright red and her breaths seemed more laboured than before.

“Really?” you said in disbelief. You had never seen yourself as unattractive but you didn’t think you were anything special either. You were nothing compared to the Goddess in front of you, that was for sure. She chuckled.

“You’re a humble one,” she mused, “How cute.” You couldn’t quite believe her words. Natasha thought you, of all people, were humble? You searched the room, looking for any kind of escape from the conversation and spotted a clock hung above the bed.

“It’s getting late,” you said, trying to hide your stutter, “I’ll sleep on the floor.” You knew it would be uncomfortable but anything was better than being next to Natasha. You’d slept in awkward places before so you’d just have to deal with it.

“No you won’t,” she said, shuffling to the other side of the bed and lifting the sheets, “There’s room for both of us, see?” The amount of room wasn’t the problem – it was the proxemics between you and the internal chaos your body was experiencing. How were you supposed to explain that to Natasha though? You noticed the moment your eyes fell on her that her autonomy wasn’t the same as yours so she wouldn’t understand your dilemma.

“Uh, okay,” you said, knowing you had no choice. You never sounded nervous or vulnerable, not even with your close family and friends. If embarrassment was a type of poison, you’d have collapsed in agony by now. You climbed into bed beside Natasha, turning your back to her. You were reminded of how small the bed was when you shifted slightly and felt her hand brush against the small of your back. You took a deep breath. You were in for a long night.

She switched off the bedside lamp and to your horror, you could hear her unbutton her jeans and discard them on the floor. It was almost as if she was doing it on purpose. You tensed your muscles, forcing yourself to stay as still as humanely possible so there was less chance of you accidentally making contact with each other again.

“That’s better,” she mumbled and you felt her leg against yours as she adjusted her position to make herself more comfortable. You didn’t know how long it took for you to fall asleep with her body so close to yours, her breath creating goosebumps along every part of your skin that it hit. Unfortunately, you found out the hard way that your head was the worst place to escape to you in your current state.

You woke up, gasping and blinded by the darkness around you. You pushed yourself up, feeling the slick on your thighs from the filthy dream you had just experienced. Natasha’s head had been buried between your thighs and you had been an absolute mess beneath her. You could honestly die from humiliation – how could your mind conjure up something so vile while you were sleeping next to her? As you were about to move off the bed and sprint into the bathroom, a light was switched on and you felt a hand tighten around your wrist.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Natasha said, a dark rasp accompanying her words, “You are not going into the bathroom to fuck yourself again.” Your eyes widened and you felt a tide of heat rush to your cheeks. She’d heard you.

“I’m so sorry,” you said, “I shouldn’t have, it was really inappropriate of me…” She silenced you by straddling your hips, trapping you beneath her on the bed. Before you could react, you were distracted by the feeling of something hard against your stomach. You looked down to see Natasha in only her boxers, the bulge pressing against your abdomen straining in its confines. Your jaw dropped. It had never even occurred to you that there was a chance she’d want you too.

“I was going to let you make the first move,” she said, “But you took too long.” From how the other agents described you, she had been so sure your boldness and confidence would’ve caused you to spring onto her immediately. She was annoyed that she’d had to listen to you pleasure yourself in the shower without her but at the same time, Natasha loved that her presence had changed your demeanour so much.

You gulped and looked up into her eyes, seeing that her iris had shrunk into a thin line around her blown pupils. You drunk in the sight of her on top of you, placing your hands on top of her bare, supple thighs, her skin like velvet beneath you.

“Fuck,” you breathed. She tilted up your chin, running her thumb over your bottom lip, wanting a better view of you.

“Tsk tsk. Such a dirty mouth.” You knew you shouldn’t be letting her walk all over you but you were enjoying it more than you wanted to admit. She lifted herself off your body so she could move her other hand to the waistband of your trousers. She hooked a finger underneath the material, “Can I?” You nodded and she dug her nails into your chin, “I want to hear you say it.” You weren’t used to this power dynamic – you were always the more dominant one.

“Yes,” you said, “You can. Please.” She grinned at your obedience and slipped her hand into your pants, feeling you drip onto her fingertips. She groaned.

“Oh God, you’re so wet already,” she said, “I could stuff you with my cock right now if I wanted to.” She removed her hand from your underwear and brought it to your mouth, pushing her fingers past your lips. You sucked her digits hungrily, tasting yourself on your tongue. The sight only drove Natasha even crazier but she also felt a pang of envy, wishing it was her cock in your mouth instead. You felt so good around her fingers.

After pulling her digits out of your mouth, she lowered herself onto your body and she didn’t hesitate to connect her lips with yours, sending a jolt of electricity through your veins. Her lips moulded against yours perfectly and you moved in sync with her, your kisses becoming more and more desperate. She could taste your sweetness as she kissed you and she forced herself to forget about breathing, not wanting to pull away for even a second. Her hands cupped your face and you reached up to tangle yours in her hair, her lips staining yours with garnet lust.

You pulled her even closer against your chest, your mind a buzz of her and her only. You let her tongue slide between your teeth when you felt it press against your bottom lip, making no effort to fight against it with your own. She swallowed your whines, her crotch grinding against your thigh. You had never hooked up with anyone before; you weren’t that kind of person. But you were willing to break all your rules for Natasha and give every part of you to her without hesitation.

Her mouth moved to your jawline, littering your face with kisses, her hands trailing down your arms. You shivered under her feather-light touch, gasping as her teeth sunk into your neck, intending to leave a bruise that everyone else would see. She tugged at the hem of your shirt.

“Take it off,” she said. She leaned back to give you space to pull it over your head and unhook your bra before she pounced on you like an animal. She traced her fingers over your collarbones before venturing further down to your chest, her fingers circling your nipples. You arched into her touch as she caressed your breasts, her movements sending a spark straight to your core. You reached down to cup her bulge, noticing the wet patch on her boxers but she slapped your hand away, “No touching,” she snapped.

“Please, Natasha,” you said, “I need you; it hurts.” She tutted.

“Patience,” she husked. She pulled away from you and started taking off her clothes, freeing her aching breasts before pushing down her boxers. Her erection sprang out from the material, the tip inflamed and ringed by an enraged red, pre-cum dribbling onto the sheets beneath her.

She led back onto the pillow, giving you a full view of her body and you took a moment to admire her. Everything about her was a masterpiece – her facial features, her muscles, her curves. Her crimson hair was a mess around her shoulders and the front pieces had fallen forward, framing her face, “I want to fuck that pretty mouth of yours.” You shook your head.

“No, Natasha,” you pleaded, “It’ll feel so much better in my pussy, I promise…” You fell silent as her eyes burnt into you. You reluctantly crawled over to her on all fours, hesitating before wrapping your mouth around the tip. You tried to irk her, moving as slow as possible but she grabbed a hold of your head and started pushing you down on her cock.

“Suck.” You gagged around her length as she started bucking her hips upwards so she was fucking your mouth but the sound only drove her more. It didn’t take long for you to start moving your head up and down her cock without any guidance, guttural moans escaping Natasha’s mouth from the warmth and skill of your tongue, “Fuck, that shut you up.”

Tears spilt down your cheeks as she hit the back of your throat over and over again, the vibrations of your whines sending even more waves of pleasure through her body. She lifted her legs onto your shoulders so you could grab onto her thighs, spurring you on even more, “I’m so close,” she breathed. Her thrusts were messy and out of rhythm by the time she came undone, spilling her cum into your mouth. You made sure to swallow it all.

She pulled her cock out of your mouth, a mixture of cum and drool coating her length, some of it dribbling down your chin, “You did so well. Such a good slut for me.” She took a moment to catch her breath, watching with eagerness as you pulled down your trousers and your panties that were positively ruined, throwing them on the floor. There were tears of white running down your legs and your clit was visibly swollen. She smirked wickedly, “You want me that bad, huh?”

“Please, I’ve been a good girl,” you whined. You tried to reach for her again but she caught hold of your wrist, stopping you in your tracks.

“Lie down.” You went to lay on your back but she grabbed your shoulders, her nails indenting crescent-moons into your skin before pushing you down onto your stomach. You gasped as her hand pressed against your cunt, her fingers running through your sensitive folds. Her movements were slow and deliberate, intending to increase your need but not give in to it.

“More,” you begged as her thumb massaged your clit. The smell of sex was heavy in the air and your senses were intoxicated by the vanilla and brown sugar fragrance of her perfume. She gave your clit a sharp pinch in response to your pleas, causing you to inhale a sharp intake of breath.

“You’re insatiable,” she said, “You’re begging to be fucked by a woman you just met. Like a whore.” You started rubbing your crotch against her hand, your motions erratic and frantic.

“More, please,” you cried, your thoughts becoming incoherent as the need between your legs started to burn, “Please, Natasha.” She pushed two fingers inside of you, stretching out your entrance but making sure to avoid your g-spot.

“Tell me what you want.”

“I want you inside of me,” you groaned as she added a third digit to your cunt. Natasha started to play with her breasts using her free hand; she was burning for you just as badly as you were for and the sound of your begging only worsened her desire. It took all the strength in her body to hold herself back and not ruin you right there and then. She was so glad you couldn’t see her.

“I am inside of you.” You whined.

“I want your cock. I need it inside of me, please.” She grabbed hold of your hips, smirking. As much as she enjoyed seeing you so needy for her, her patience was wearing thin.

“Then you’ll take it all.” She suddenly rammed inside you without any warning, not being able to resist you for any longer and you cried out in shock. Your initial discomfort was drowned by explosive bliss as Natasha filled you to the brim, hitting places you didn’t even know existed. She was met with no resistance as she rutted into you despite her size which stretched you out deliciously. Your pussy was so much better than she could’ve ever imagined.

She flattened herself against your back, needing to feel more of you. She grunted against your ear as her hips slammed into your ass with each powerful stroke. You were dizzy with pleasure as her speed increased, your moans intensifying as she started to pound into your sweet spot. She was older and more experienced than anyone you had been with before which was evident in how she was making you feel. Your body was coursing with more pleasure than you thought was humanely possible.

The knot in your stomach was tightening fast and the sounds of your wet cunt were echoing through the room, “Oh fuck, you’re so tight,” Natasha said, not caring about her dignity anymore, too lost in the sensation of your warmth clenching around her cock, “Tell me how you feel baby.”

“I feel so, so good,” you said, “Please, don’t stop.” You looked back at her and she tilted her head so your lips could connect for a moment before her mouth moved to your shoulder. She sucked on the soft skin there, slowing down so she could sink deeper into your cunt. She could feel your legs trembling beneath her own as you pushed back in rhythm with each of her thrusts.

“How close are you?” Natasha didn’t want to admit it but she was already teetering on the edge, struggling to hold back from how well you were taking her. You could feel her movements become sloppy as more and more of your juices gushed from your entrance.

“So close,” you said, your walls clenching even harder around her cock. It only took a few more thrusts before you could feel gasoline flood your bloodstream, ready to be set on fire, “Natasha, f-fuck…” You didn’t even have to say it.

“Let go for me,” she commanded. You let the knot in your stomach unravel, screaming her name as all the nerves in your body were electrified, sparks of searing light shooting across your vision. No drug could replicate the state of euphoria you were both lost in as your walls were drowned by white, your cunt milking her cock dry until there wasn’t a single drop left to give. You had never experienced an orgasm so strong, so prolonged, so incredible. You expected Natasha to stop after fucking you through your high but instead, she picked up her pace again. You whimpered.

“Natasha, that’s enough…” She pulled out of you and flipped you onto your back before slipping straight back inside of you. Your eyes widened.

“What’s wrong?” she mocked, “You begged for my cock, slut. Isn’t this what you wanted?” She smirked when you didn’t give her an answer, already drowning in ecstasy again despite the building ache between your legs. You were losing your grip on reality as the new angle gave her access to more places inside of you and you knew it wouldn’t be long until you were overstimulated.

She didn’t take her eyes off you, wanting to see your reaction to everything she gave you. You were growing more sensitive by the second and you could feel her cock throbbing against your walls each time you squeezed her, drops of perspiration gleaming on every inch of your skin. You reached up to cup Natasha’s breasts, the extra layer of stimulation pushing her towards yet another climax in record time.

She started to rub your clit, hoping to speed up your release but it was becoming evident she’d have to release without you. You wrapped your legs around her waist, pulling her even closer and for a moment, she forgot your pleasure, getting too lost in her own. She tore her eyes away from you and threw her head back, panting like a dog.

“Cum inside me,” you said and at the sound of your words, she didn’t hesitate, letting her orgasm crash into her body with full force. She moaned your name between gasps as she was hit by waves of bliss that slowly decreased in intensity as the milliseconds passed, pulsing through her entire body. She finally pulled out of you and collapsed on the bed. You both gasped for breath, your thighs and the sheets beneath you stained with lust. You were glad you hadn’t climaxed this time – you didn’t think you’d have survived it.

“That was fucking incredible,” Natasha admitted, turning her head to face you. You nodded in agreement, too fucked out to form a sentence, your limbs still shaking from adrenaline.

That morning, Natasha woke you up with her cock between your legs, already hard and ready for another round. Her hands only left your body during the mission and three days later after its success, she didn’t hesitate to fuck you senseless until you passed out.

A/n - I have an idea for part two so let me know if that's something you'd like.

#natasha romanoff #black widow #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff x y/n #natasha x y/n #natasha x you #natasha romanoff smut #marvel #mcu #marvel smut #mcu x you #mcu x reader #mcu x y/n #g!p natasha romanoff #g!p natasha x reader #g!p natasha

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cheeseceli · 10 months ago

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When you have plushies

Pairing: Ot8!skz × Gn!reader (individually)

Genre: fluff, reactions

Request: so if skz had a partner who sleeps / collects plushies??? maybe also add a little where the reader is a tad bit embarrassed of it?

Warnings: none

A/n: if you saw this when I posted it for the first time no you didn't!

Bang Chan

Y'KNOW THAT LAUGH OF HIS

The one that's so adorable and it looks like a giggle while his eyes are like crescent moons

THAT ONE

It's the one he gives you while he tries to understand that somehow he is dating the most adorable human being in the whole world

He literally has no problem if you want to sleep with them, will reassure you when it comes to that

"Do you think I can take one of your plushies with me for the tour? It'd make me feel closer to you"

Lee Know

Of course he will tease you

That's like one of the things that are included in his boyfriend package: relentless teasing

He will stop immediately if he sees that you aren't feeling it though

Will take a picture of you cuddling your favourite teddy bear and set it as his phone's wallpaper

AND will buy you some plushies and put them in his dorm

So you can feel more comfortable even when you're away from your own collection

Will never admit but he cuddles with it when he misses you

"Dori was sleeping with the plushie I bought for you. I'm going to send you a pic"

Changbin

Now that he knows, there is nothing stopping him from buying you thousands of plushies

Your collection will double in less than a month if you let him (please let him)

Might even buy some matching ones so you guys can share something in common

But he'll feel a little betrayed if you don't cuddle him to sleep and instead hug the teddy bear

"Why are you cuddling a plushie when you have me right here?? Like, c'mon now!!"

Hyunjin

You know those things where you can make a teddy bear from scratch and then gift it to someone?

He would do that for you😭

Would probably gift you a personalised plushie in your first valentine's

But overall he finds it adorable

Laughs endearingly every time he sees you sleeping while cuddling one

But will not lose the opportunity to replace the plushie and hug you throughout the night

"Would you rather have a dog or a bear as a plushie? No specific reason"

Han

Wants to give names to some of them lmao

And finds you 200% cuter because of it

Like, he knew you were adorable but you always surpass his expectations somehow

And if you get embarrassed abou it he finds you even cuter

But will make sure you don't have a reason to be embarrassed

He will throw himself in the pile of plushies, feeling like he's in heaven and making sure you knows he likes this side of you as well

"This one looks just like you! Oh my God, it's literally you"

Felix

HE LOVES IT

And he would be so casual about it as well??

Like, you'd be kinda scared of his reaction but then he's just the kindest about this

Wants to know about their names and stories you might have about them

The kind of guy who'd stitch one of them if they need to get repaired (I love him btw)

Tries to win plushies for you in those claw machines

"Which one do you want? I'll win it for you"

Seungmin

Is kinda intimidated at first lmao

Like I can see him just standing still while an army of plushies stare at his soul 😭

After the initial shock though I think he'd find it cute

Especially if there is a plushie who kinda looks like him/his skzoo

If that's the case he'll just tease you (while finding it so endearing)

"You should name this one 'Minnie'"

"I'm not naming every single one of my plushies after you"

"Why not?"

I.N

I think he wouldn't react at first, but mostly because he doesn't know what to do

Will you get sad if he teases you? Will you get embarrassed if he says it's cute?

He ends up not saying anything lol

Acts like he sees a huge collection of plushies every day

Might give you some plushies as gifts after finding out

"I just bought a very cute teddy bear in Japan. I'm giving it to you once I come back home."

Dividers by @cafekitsune

Reblogs and feedback are always appreciated!

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eoieopda · 7 days ago

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triple-dog dare | lsm

“Bambi.”

The sternness of his tone surprised both of you, so much so that when you snapped to look at him, both of you froze. Your moon-sized eyes were further proof that your childhood nickname still rings true to date, although your being the deer made him the oncoming car in this scenario.

He didn’t love that analogy.

Recovering quickly, he pulled the Ace from his sleeve: the surefire way for one of you to get the other onboard:

“I triple-dog dare you to come with me.”

pairing: lee seokmin x reader summary: when you're left off the guest list to seokmin's parent's thirtieth anniversary party, you're content to keep your questions to yourself and stay home. seokmin, on the other hand, is not content. in fact, he pulls the one card he knows will always win. au: childhood best friends to lovers genre: fluff, angst, smut type: one-shot rating: 18+ only. minors do not have my consent to interact. wc: 13k cw: pov switches, complicated sibling dynamics (seokmin’s), there is in fact one (1) bed, halmonis gone wild, stupid childhood nicknames, fingering (v), oral sex (m receiving), multiple orgasms, implied penetrative sex (p in v). reader notes: afab, uses she/her pronouns, wears a dress/heels to the party, is implicitly an only child. the setting is intentionally ambiguous, so she's not implicitly korean and/or asian. there are no descriptions of body shape/size, complexion, etc. a/n: thank you to the incomparable @daechwitatamic for beta-ing this! it's been a long damn time since i've written anything, so this might not have seen the light of day without jo, the hype-man. on that note, i suck at summaries; just read the fic, lmao. svt masterlist. svt permanent taglist. multi permanent taglist.

For being the walking disaster that he is, there have been shockingly few moments in Lee Seokmin’s life where he’s needed to shove his oversized foot into his oversized mouth.

Prior to the incident at your apartment, the last time he’d embarrassed himself like this was when he’d asked his oldest sister, Soyeon, in earnest whether or not she was pregnant, only to learn that she was just bloated; and he’s just an ass.

To your credit, you’re far from cruel when he slips up, but that almost makes it worse. You visibly deflate when he asks his well-intentioned but ill-fated question, rather than letting him have it the way his two siblings would have done.

The day in question went like this:

He asked, “Did you reserve your room yet for the 31st? If not, we can double up. It’ll be a lot cheaper.”

And you blinked, stunned like you’d been slapped. “Have I what?”

It dawned on you both at that moment that, for whatever reason, his parents’ thirtieth anniversary party was in fact news to you. Two things then happened at once: you tried to hide your surprise and the twinge of pain that comes with being excluded; and he racked his stupid brain to find any explanation for why you had to feel either one of those things.

The best option he found was to gently toss his middle sister, Seonmi, under the metaphorical bus.

“Seonmi’s been working on something special for them. You know how she gets,” he waved dismissively. “So obsessed with finding the perfect napkins — ” He wiggled his fingers for emphasis. “— and creating custom cocktails, that she misses the forest for the trees.”

You didn’t look convinced. Likewise, you didn’t look any less uncomfortable.

Fuck.

“I’m sure it was an honest mistake.” To drive his point home, he reached from his spot on your couch to give your knee a reassuring squeeze. “I have a plus-one, so it’s not like it’ll be a logistical problem. You belong there as much as we do.”

And he meant it, wholeheartedly.

All his life, the running joke has been that Soonyi and Minseok Lee have four kids: two biological daughters, a younger son, and his otherwise unrelated twin, who spent more time sleeping on his top bunk than in her own home next door.

The way he saw it — and the way he’s sure his parents would see it — is that no family gathering is complete without you. That’s a hill he’d die on if need be.

You shifted in your seat, which caused his hand to slip off your knee, whether or not you meant for it to happen. Glancing uneasily out your window, you worried your bottom lip between your teeth, mumbling, “I don’t know…”

Seokmin frowned. You didn’t see it, though, and therefore weren’t moved by it. Instead, you cycled through your anxious thoughts at high velocity. If he was still touching you, he’d be worried that your sparking brain might catch him on fire.

“What if it’s not a mistake? I mean, what if it’s a couples thing?”

He couldn’t even classify these questions as rhetorical because he wasn’t meant to hear them in the first place. Though you asked out loud, each one of them was for your ears only. From his half of the couch — miles away — his frown deepened, unbeknownst to you.

“You know, Seonmi follows me on Instagram; she’d know that Kai and I broke up a few months ago. Maybe she doesn’t want me to feel awkward? Even if I went, and I didn’t feel weird about that, her expecting it to be weird might make it weird, right?”

Fuck.

You’d spiral all day if Seokmin didn’t stop you. As much as he loves how thoughtful you are, he knows better than most that you have a tendency to take it too far, inflicting that relentless consideration on yourself until it wounds.

“Bambi.”

He didn’t love that analogy.

Recovering quickly, he pulled the Ace from his sleeve: the surefire way for one of you to get the other onboard:

“I triple-dog dare you to come with me.”

Begrudgingly, you’d conceded, just like Seokmin hoped you would. You sat with him while he figured out travel plans to the mountain resort, helped him visualize what the hell he needed to wear to an event like this. When the time came, you sent him half the cost for the room he booked, even though he repeatedly insisted that you didn’t need to chip in.

Now, that unsolicited sum sits untouched in his Venmo balance. You sit next to him on the night train out of town.

Sit, he thinks, is a bit of an understatement. You’re barely upright, so exhausted from your work day that his shoulder and side are bearing most of your weight. His arm went from tingling to numb an hour ago, but Seokmin doesn’t mind. There isn’t a burden he wouldn’t carry for you, up to and including you yourself.

Besides, he’s not worse off for being left to his own devices. In fact, he keeps himself thoroughly entertained by taking selfies of the pair of you. The aftermath will stay securely in his camera roll — largely because you’d kill him if you saw how squishy your face is, pressed against his coat, or how your little pout trembles slightly, almost as if you’re trying to talk through your sleep — but he still finds it worth the risk. This mochi-cheeked version of you is one of his favorites.

When Seokmin has amassed enough silly photos to comprise a dossier, he tucks his phone back into his pocket with a self-satisfied smile. You’re still out cold, so you don’t stir at his subtle movements or the sound of the concession trolley rattling your way down the aisle.

The girl manning said trolley is significantly outweighed by the thing itself. She hardly looks old enough to have graduated high school, he figures, and he can’t imagine how it is that she’s working at this hour — or how she got stuck doing this job, when it takes all she’s got to maneuver the giant metal contraption through all the train cars.

“Anything, sir?” She asks politely, albeit slightly out-of-breath.

Even though she’s speaking to him, her gaze is directed squarely at his hat, leading him to believe that she may also be too shy for her job. Nonetheless, it’s been two entire hours since his dinner, and he’s on the brink of starving to death, so he coughs up a few bills in exchange for several different snacks.

She could do him the kindness of assuming his massive pile of food is for sharing, but she doesn’t. She gestures to you and whispers, “Anything for your —?”

Seokmin intercepts the question, knowing exactly where it’s headed: in the same direction as the million others like it that he’s heard over the years.

“— parole officer?” He supplies with a smile, “No, this nap is fueled by a lot of crab rangoon. She’ll be out for the duration, I fear.”

Both halves of his response seem to stun her, which means he has to cover his inevitable laugh with a fake cough.

This bit of yours will truly never get old, although the implications that prompt it did a long time ago. It was a stroke of genius on your part, dodging inaccurate references to your relationship status by offering up something too absurd to converse around.

“You two make such a cute couple,” an Uber driver once told you.

“He’s not in a relationship,” you’d politely corrected him. “He’s in witness protection. I’m duty-bound to keep him and his identity safe.”

The silence turns awkward, so Seokmin thanks the girl and gives her a smile he hopes says, “you’re allowed to run away from me now; I won’t take it personally.” She bows her head a little too eagerly, then skitters off with a grimace, like she pulled something in her neck.

Alone again with you, he wiggles gently upright in his seat so that you can rest more comfortably against his pectoral, rather than his shoulder bone. Even though you’re still asleep, Seokmin swears he hears a quiet mmpfh, as if you’re expressing gratitude. He bites his lips to keep from smiling, knowing that smiling in your proximity is one step away from laughter: the only thing you’ve never been able to sleep through.

Instead of giving into the urge, he murmurs, “You should get paid royalties whenever we use that joke. Being as smart as you are should pay off.”

Now, he knows he’s not simply hearing things because you’re just barely loud enough to overcome your own mumbling.

“Agreed,” you sigh on an exhale before slipping to sleep off again.

“Well?”

There are two beats between his first question and his next: the unfilled gap you’ve left in the conversation and the cab’s trunk shutting firmly. “‘s that cool with you?”

Seokmin stares at you, staring at him. His expression is soft, like your lack of responsiveness is something to be fond of, rather than annoyed by. It’s unexpectant, too, leaving the door wide open.

You blink. “Sorry — I — What did you say?”

Hitting him when he least expects it, you shift your suitcase from your dominant hand so you can gesture properly to the bright, poorly crocheted bucket hat flopping over his forehead. “It’s a bit hard to hear you. That hat is so loud.”

His quizzically raised eyebrows drop in an instant. Likewise, that airy smile of his flattens into a straight line.

Bullseye.

“Is it me that you hate?” He asks, tone dead serious as he points his finger towards his own chest. “Or is it the very concept of whimsy?”

You’re too busy biting back a grin to protest when, without being asked, Seokmin reaches out and takes the handle of your suitcase into his own hand, as well as the garment bag you’d draped over your arm. Before turning away to abscond with both sets of luggage in addition to his own, he shoots you an incredulous look. It dissolves entirely before his face even disappears from view.

“This is an objectively delightful hat,” he mutters, nonetheless, in furtherance of the bit.

He spots a member of hotel staff standing on the sidewalk directly outside the hotel’s double doors and pleads his case to them. “She made me this hat, you know,” he announces, gesturing back to you with a nod.

The valet’s uniform hat casts a shadow under the lamplight, but it doesn’t do enough to hide the expression on their face. It is abundantly clear — even in the dark — that they didn’t hear a single word Seokmin said before he offered up that bit of trivia, seemingly apropos of nothing. They muster up a customer-service smile that doesn’t reach their eyes and tell him it’s a wonderful hat. Meanwhile, you roll your eyes from behind because nothing either of them just said is true.

That hat is the byproduct of delusions of grandeur and innumerable skeins of color-conflicting yarn. You made it for yourself, believing that you were the kind of cute and kitschy person who could pull it off; and inconsolable weeping Christ, were you wrong. It was — no, is — your greatest fiber arts failure.

Frankenstein’s floral monster would be in a secondhand shop somewhere if you’d had any say in the matter. It isn’t because you didn’t. Seokmin “rescued” it from the “to donate” pile on your bedroom floor. Since then, he’s worn it at every — public — opportunity, season be damned.

Admittedly, he’s exactly the kind of cute and kitschy person who can pull it off, but you’ve decided out of sheer pettiness to keep that appraisal to yourself.

You take your time catching up to him, both because his long legs make it hard to keep pace; and because the room is reserved under his name. After all, he’s the welcomed guest, not the reluctant party-crasher. The receptionist is already handing him a white keycard when you finally reach the desk. Seokmin holds it up between his index and middle fingers, closed-eye grin sparkling in a matching shade of ivory.

Though the journey up to your shared room is long, the real trip is being confined to an elevator with mirrors for walls.

No matter how hard you try to avert your eyes, you manage to keep finding some new, horrible angle of your stale, post-train state. It’s torture. Three versions of you stare back with deep, dark undereye circles; and all you can think about is how dull your complexion is — especially in comparison to Seokmin, who may as well be bioluminescent with the way he glows from the inside out.

It’s joy, you know, his primary state of being and something he radiates like no other. He’s happy to be here, happy that you’re here, and happy to be happy. Whether or not he means it to be, it’s infectious. Now, you feel yourself starting to smile, too.

Despite your quiet observation, you must have missed him looking at you. Seemingly out of nowhere, he carefully sets down your belongings, raises his now-empty hand, and cups the right side of your jaw. Unaware that you’ve frozen solid, he swipes his thumb carefully over your cheek, tilting his own head to the side and frowning.

“I got you bad, huh?”

You blink.

“The zipper on my coat,” he explains, laughing. “Looks like it took a bite out of you when you used me as a pillow on the train.”

For reasons you can’t possibly explain, the only word to roll off your tongue is a sheepish, “Sorry.”

For a second, Seokmin is just as confused as you are about whether you’re needlessly apologizing to him or his coat. He chuckles quietly at how easily distracted you both are, then he gets back to the point: “Does it hurt?”

“No.”

Your response comes unnaturally quick. Your pulse does, too, when you finally make eye contact with him. After clearing your throat, you give him a half-hearted smile, ignoring whatever medical event you seem to be experiencing. “I didn’t know it was there until now.”

He hums in acknowledgment, then rescinds his hand. You watch in silence while he re-encumbers himself with your luggage and turns back to face the elevator doors, which open almost immediately.

Seokmin steps out easily, like the weight of your respective burdens doesn’t mean a thing. “I’d say this way, please, but I’ve already forgotten the room number,” he admits with a sheepish laugh. “The keycard��s in my pocket.”

You take his cue and reach into the front, right pocket of his coat for the keycard. As soon as you see the room number, you snort.

“You booked room number 218 because that’s your birthday, and then… what? You forgot your own birthday?”

“I’m deeply flawed.” He sighs, put-upon. “Now, let’s go, Bambi. It feels like you packed a week’s worth of bricks.”

There’s no time to point out that you never asked him to carry your suitcase or bag for you in the first place. Likewise, there’s no opportunity to ask exactly how many bricks is a week’s worth. He’s on the move again before you can blink, energy evident in each step regardless of how late it is.

Once again, you follow Seokmin’s lead. Despite the signage, which is clearly visible on the wall, he walks confidently in the wrong direction, prompting you to grab him gently by the elbow and steer him the opposite way. His smile doesn’t falter; he plays it off as if he was just testing how closely you’re paying attention.

It takes several turns down several additional hallways before the pair of you reach your target. When you come to room 218, you tap the keycard against the reader, causing the lock to click open. You turn the handle, push the door open into the room, and step awkwardly out of the way so your personal bellhop can get by.

“This is what I was trying to tell you when you so viciously insulted my favorite accessory.” Seokmin nods his head towards the center of the room. “All of the rooms Seonmi included in the reservation block have a king-sized bed — singular. The rooms outside the block are criminally overpriced for ski season.”

It’s far from the first time you’ve doubled up, so you shrug. “Just like old times, right? Like, when you thought your house was haunted, and you forced your way into the top bunk with me?”

“First of all,” he says as he sets both of your suitcases down and places one hand on his hip, the other pointing at you. “We were six.”

After locking the door behind you, you toe off your shoes, smirking at him from over your shoulder. “What’s your second point?”

“It was haunted —” He insists. Then his stern expression melts into something smug, the way it always does when he’s about to blatantly rewrite history. “— and you asked me to come up there because you were scared.”

A laugh slips out of you automatically, but you selflessly decide to let him have this. Crossing to him, you pat him on the bicep, patronizingly simpering all the while, “You are the brave one.”

Even though you’re both cowards, and he knows it, he pockets this little victory with a pleased hum and a grin.

Turning away from him, you make a beeline for the closet area near the door. There, you shuck off your coat and hang it up, out of the way. While you do, Seokmin passes you both your garment bag and his. From there, the pair of you work in efficient silence: you, pulling your respective formal wear from their bags and smoothing out any wrinkles; him, tucking away your extensive collection of toiletries in the bathroom.

When everything is in its place, you turn back around and notice for the first time how beautiful the room actually is. Though the shades of the floor-to-ceiling windows are almost completely drawn, the snow-covered mountains are at least partially visible through the gap in fabric. If you had the time, you’d spend all day tomorrow sitting on the forest green, velvet chaise directly in front of the window, staring at frosty peaks so massive, they feel close enough to touch.

To your right, an electric fireplace heats the room, while a portrait-framed television hovers on the wall above the mantle, flipping through famous artworks as a screensaver. In between flashes of Van Gogh’s Almond Blossoms and Klimt’s The Kiss, you catch a glimpse of Seokmin’s smile reflecting on the black screen.

Awestruck, you turn to him and sigh, “Don’t let me get used to this.”

He jerks his thumb to his right, gesturing towards the bathroom. “Don’t judge me if I steal one of the bathrobes. They’re probably more expensive than half the shit in my apartment.”

“I won’t, but they’ll bill you for it when they figure it out,” you warn him. “On that note, do you need to shower or anything before I start my skincare side quest?”

Seokmin shakes his head, causing the crocheted abomination to flop. “All yours. My hair’ll get weird if I don’t deal with it tomorrow before we head out.”

And with that mental image of his insurmountable cowlick, you quickly grab your pajamas and shuffle off towards the bathroom.

The first few seconds after you close the door are spent gawking at the insanely intricate, geometric tile pattern in the walk-in shower. Thinking of how much time it must’ve taken to lay each one of them, you set to work on your own tedious task: your ten-step regimen of cleansers, toners, serums, and moisturizers. Seokmin says otherwise, but you don’t think any of them truly make a difference. As stupid as you know it is, the routine itself is therapeutic, even if your skin is no more bouncy and glowy than it was before.

When it’s all said and done, you emerge from the bathroom to find your best friend stretched out on the half of the bed nearest the door with his eyes fixed on his phone screen. It’s the side of the room he always chooses, claiming that it’s to protect you from any intruders, but you know the truth: he’s too much of a freeze baby to sleep near the window, and he knows you like it cold.

“Feeling refreshed?” He mumbles to the best of his ability; his sweatshirt hood is pulled up and drawn so tightly that it squishes his cheeks and chin, restricting his movement.

Chuckling quietly as you go, you pad over to your half of the bed and slip under the comforter. Like a moth to a flame, the other occupant sends his last text, tosses his phone to the side, and scoots closer to you, eager to siphon whatever extra body heat he can. His head winds up on your shoulder, while your cheek rests against the top of his head.

“Before you tell me that I look it, I’d encourage you to stare long into the abyss that is my under-eye circles.”

When he laughs, it’s merely a puff of air from his nose. “You never look as tired as you feel,” he says distractedly, fiddling with the drawstrings of his hoodie. “Pretty miraculous, given how little sleep you get.”

That comment warms you up so thoroughly, you wonder if he can feel it. Then, you wonder if that was the point. You intend to tease him for that, but then it dawns on you how fidgety he’s being. It’s rare for him.

“You okay, Thumper?”

It feels silly, using that nickname after so long. Your clumsiness stuck around for the ride, continuing Bambi into perpetuity; but he grew out of his companion name when he hit puberty, and his giant feet were suddenly proportional to the rest of him.

He’s certainly no bunny, nor is he a child, but the low ebb of anxiety rolling off of him reminds you of the scared little neighbor boy you used to know. It fits, even if it is silly.

At first, Seokmin begins his explanation without peeling his gaze off his restless fingers. “Apparently, Seungcheol and Mingyu are in town.” Then, his eyes slowly lift up to find you peering down at him. “They want to meet up to go snowboarding before we leave.”

Ah.

There it is: the top-secret look in his eye that only you can decipher. The one he’s been practicing for years, at your insistence, for moments like this, when he needs to be talked into something. When he needs to be brave and avoid missing out on something he’d love, solely because it freaks him out.

You respond the same way you always have; the way you once pinky-promised you always would: “I triple-dog dare you.”

He sighs deeply, neither fully resigned nor relieved, but then he nods. His head knocks slightly against your shoulder as he does. “I’ll do it.”

And that’s that; it’s settled.

Or so you think.

A beat passes in silence, until Seokmin suddenly pipes up again, “But you’re going to have to hold my hand on the chair lift, or I’ll pass out and fall to my death.”

“Deal.”

You grab his hand now in consideration of your promise and scratch affectionately at his palm. Surprisingly, his thoughts haven’t made him clammy. His skin is even softer than usual, likely due to the expensive hotel lotion he’s undoubtedly now harboring in his suitcase. Tongue firmly in cheek, you look at him sideways.

“Just — leave the hat in your suitcase, okay? The snow will be blinding enough.”

Seokmin’s been dressed and ready for at least thirty minutes, but you’re still standing exactly where you have been for the last forty-five. Face pinched, you turn this way and that in front of the mirror, smoothing fabric that’s already wrinkle-free, apparently for the hell of it.

“I’m oh-for-three.” Your exasperated sigh is punctuated by your bare, right foot stomping on the carpet. It doesn’t make the impact you likely hope it will, at least sonically. It does, however, speak volumes about how close to the ledge you are.

“All of them looked good,” he says earnestly. “I think this one is my favorite, though, if that means anything.”

Apparently, this is the wrong answer. Your wild-eyed gaze lifts from your own reflection until you’re staring him dead in the eye through the mirror.

“Why did I even pack this?” You ask, “Do you see this?”

Suddenly, you lift a manicured hand to point at your neckline, from which he’d admittedly been averting his eyes. “This is too much cleavage for a family function, isn’t it?”

As quickly as you glanced at him in the first place, you go right back to fussing with your dress, thankfully missing the way he swallows thickly.

Fuck, now he’s staring — but you’re the one that made him look in the first place — and he can feel heat rising to ears, a dead giveaway. His sudden silence does enough to communicate his struggle. He has no idea how to respond without vaulting over the boundaries of your friendship.

Is it hot in here?

Deciding to rely on his usual tactic, he jokes his way out.

“If you think I’ll ever side against tiddie…” He forces a grimace, shaking his head gravely. “Then you really don’t know me at all.”

You laugh loudly, and whatever one-sided tension filled the room snaps like a twig. Better still, the smile you give him stays on your face while you reassess your dress. Seokmin takes it as a personal victory that you commit to his choice, rather than cycle back through your options for the second time.

While this means that you’ll both be able to hit the open bar sooner rather than later, the biggest upside is that he no longer has to keep excusing himself to the bathroom so you can change again, and again, and again.

You finish up quickly, tossing on jewelry, and then turn to him. His shoulder keeps you steady while you slip into your devilishly high heels. Seokmin pays them little mind now, however; his attention is drawn to the accessories you’ve chosen. Sure, they match perfectly with the rest of your outfit, but that’s not what strikes him. It’s the fact that everything you’ve picked was gifted to you by his parents at one point or another.

Unable to stop himself, he reaches out and gently taps on one of your dangling earrings. “Eighteenth birthday,” he muses to himself.

Then, both his gaze and his hand lower to your necklace. He skims his fingertip along the delicate, gold chain, inadvertently making you freeze up. “Christmas 2019?”

You shake your head slightly, though it barely counts as movement.

“Ah,” Seokmin corrects himself. “2020.”

Sensing that he’s somehow made you uncomfortable, he reels himself back in and clears his throat. “Shall we?” He asks, furnishing you with a bent arm to loop yours through.

You take his cue, link your arm to his, and sigh, “I suppose we shall.”

The walk to the elevator is quiet, in that neither one of you says a thing. Seokmin can hear the gears in your head turning, though, without any conversation to drown them out.

You step inside that glorified, mirrored box; and for a few minutes, he lets you work through the thing he knows ruined your sleep last night. That is, until he hears your breathing come a little quicker than usual.

“Hey.”

It was supposed to be a jumping off point. He was going to go from there and reiterate that you belong here with him. The plan was to reassure you for as long as it takes to get you to believe it, but you look up at him almost helplessly, and his Etch-a-Sketch brain is wiped clean in an instant.

The very best he can do is smile and offer a single word: “Hi.”

“Hi,” you whisper back, eyes twinkling.

Your plagued frown curves slightly back in the right direction. The creeping shroud of doom lightens, if only a little bit.

“That’ll do, pig.” You swat his arm, but he says it again, emphatically, “That’ll do.”

Halfway through you scolding him for quoting Babe at a time like this, the elevator door reopens, ready to regurgitate the pair of you out onto the ballroom level.

Unlike the lobby, which sits only one floor below, this floor looks like it was ripped straight from the pages of a fantasy novel. Everywhere he turns, there’s something new — and vaguely elven — to look at. Fairy lights hang in perfectly spaced arches from the lofted ceiling, delicately illuminating the exposed, wooden beams above. The chandeliers — plural — are crafted out of antlers of some kind, cutting between rugged and highly refined.

As stunning as it all is, Seokmin’s mind snags on a single conclusion. You’re the one who voices it, though, much to his surprise.

“This is the most Seonmi thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” you whisper to him, all without taking your eyes off the extravagance in front of you. “Is this a dress rehearsal for her wedding next year?”

He bites down on his lips hard to keep his laughter to himself. Of course, you’re dead on. Nothing about this space feels like his parents, who are supposed to be the sole focus of this entire event. He already found it odd that they agreed to such a big to-do in the first place — especially when it would require their loved ones to go out of their way, literally and financially — but this is….

“Am I being petty, or is this kind of… selfish?”

Petty, no.

Psychic? Probably.

“You’re right, and you should say it.” Seokmin nods and withdraws his arm from yours so that he can drape it properly around your shoulder. “This way to the beer, please. We’ll need it.”

Merely four steps in the direction to the bar, and a screech rings out from somewhere neither of you can locate. In fact, Seokmin’s head is turned the opposite way when someone launches themself at you, damn near ripping you from his hold.

“Oh, my god! I knew you’d come!”

Soyeon’s relief in seeing you is palpable. Seokmin can practically feel his bones being crushed as she hugs you tight, swaying from side to side. He catches a glimpse of your expression, which barely peeks through the curtain of his oldest sister’s hair; you’re far happier now than you were in the elevator.

His sister kisses the side of your head. “I missed you so fucking much. I love my residency program, but I hate how far away it keeps me.”

A solid minute passes by like this. When it starts to get unbearable, Seokmin clears his throat, hoping to remind his sister that she hasn’t seen him in months, either; and he’s also standing right here.

Instead of greeting him, Soyeon shoots you a wry smile. “Who is he today? A fugitive you’re harboring?”

In tandem, the two of you appraise him with thoughtfully narrowed eyes. See, this he didn’t miss: being both of his sisters’ least favorite younger sibling.

“Oh, no, though I can see why you think that.” You shake your head, then reach out to pat his shoulder patronizingly. “If anyone asks, this is a foreign diplomat, and I’m the interpreter he can’t understand a word without. Best not say hi to him; he won’t know what you’re saying.”

Soyeon nods, though Seokmin wonders if she truly gets what you’re trying to achieve. Not quite, he realizes a moment later. Instead, she covers his chin with her hand so she can squeeze both his cheeks at once.

“He’s adorable,” she coos. “Doesn’t look old enough or mature enough for diplomacy, though.”

Seokmin rolls his eyes. “Well, we can’t all be doctors, can we?”

Again, in tandem, all eyes on him widen with feigned shock. Between overlapping gasps of “he does understand!” and “someone’s been studying!”, he shakes off his sister’s touch and scowls.

“If you’re going to keep bullying me, can you at least do it at the bar? That way, I can numb my suffering with booze.”

At this, Soyeon drops the charade and pulls him into a hug like a vice grip. She holds him so tightly that his vision starts to get spotty. It’s not until he gently pats her back, begging for air, that she lets him go.

“I missed you too, Thumper,” she swears, prompting you to snicker.

Now, he’s annoyed for a completely different reason — one that makes even less sense to him. That nickname hasn’t bothered him in the last decade, so it shouldn’t now. Then again, the only person who’s called him Thumper since middle school is you.

The rules are different for you, if they exist at all.

“And I promise to catch up with you later, but I’ve got five thousand questions for Bambi, and the answers aren’t half as juicy with you around.”

Just like that, his plus-one is subtracted.

As much as you love Soyeon, she’s no Seokmin. With him, talking is easy; he never rushes to fill silences, doesn’t steer the conversation with a white-knuckled grip.

On the contrary, his oldest sister comes forward with a pickaxe, smashing through small talk while she mines for the wild stories she thinks she’s missed out on since moving away.

You don’t blame her, really. If you spent all your hours in a hospital, only sleeping in the lulls between other people’s trauma, you’d probably become just as intense — the human equivalent of a cracked-open fire hydrant — in the search for closeness, too.

In the thirty minutes you sit with her, you brief her on all the cliffhangers you’d left her with the last time you saw her.

Yes, you’re still stuck with your lease in the same apartment; and the old lady next door still regularly sets off the building’s fire alarm by accident.

No, you decided not to stay with Kai and haven’t spoken since the breakup; he needed more of your time and energy than you wanted to sacrifice for him.

No, Seokmin still hasn’t gone out with anyone that you know of in months. In fact, it’s been so long since either of you have touched on this topic, especially compared to how little time he and the last girl were together, that you can’t even remember her name.

Beyond that first, limited fact, you keep your mouth shut about the rest. It’s not your business to share; and it wouldn’t kill her to ask Seokmin about himself for once.

The longer you spend with her, the more frustrated you find yourself getting, although you keep this fact to yourself, too. Soyeon and Seonmi have both spent their lives fussing about Seokmin, talking about him like he’s some helpless baby, without doing much to get to know him.

That’s it.

If you were at all confident that Soyeon would take the initiative, you’d let her find all of this out on her own. She won’t, you know, but maybe it’ll sink in if she hears it from you.

“Seokmin’s doing really well, now that you mention it,” you offer, though she barely mentioned him in the first place. “He got promoted last month; he’s now lead architect on that massive commercial lot downtown. Apparently, it’s still a secret, whatever it is they’re putting there. Must be something special.”

Seokmin is something special, you all but yell inside your head.

Soyeon’s eyes brighten.

Nobody loves secrets quite like she does. You wait for the barrage, anticipating all the questions to which you’ll have to respond with “seriously, I don’t know,” but they don’t come.

Instead, she puts her drink back on its coaster, reaches out, and squeezes your wrist with her slightly chilled hand. “I’m grateful that he’s always had you, Bambi. If he didn’t, I don’t know if he’d lean in to opportunities like that.”

The look on her face tells you she means it. Maybe that’s what makes your stomach sour: that she can sit there, hearing of Seokmin’s accomplishments, and still find a way not to credit him for them.

Anger ignites inside of you. The flames lick up your esophagus, ready to explode, and you suck in a breath with every intention of letting her burn.

But then an arm slinks around your waist. Seokmin’s head bumps slightly against yours until you’re cheek to cheek.

“I hope I’m interrupting something.”

For a second, you think his slight tipsiness caused him to misspeak. Tilting your head to the side the best you can, you look at him out of the corner of your eye and catch his very subtle wink.

Soyeon opens her mouth, but Seokmin makes his wish a reality.

“Sorry, sis,” Seokmin says, entirely unapologetically. “I just found out that the band takes requests; and I’ll be goddamned if Bambi and I don’t show you clowns the meaning of dance.”

It takes no encouragement whatsoever for you to slip off your stool, get to your feet, and inch your way closer to his side. Then, like a starting gun was fired, the two of you bolt clumsily away from the bar, with you shouting “sorry!” over your shoulder as you go.

Your heels skid against the dance floor when you finally reach it, but Seokmin steadies you before you can eat shit in front of god and everyone.

“You’re way too expressive, you know that?” The fact that he’s out-of-breath doesn’t keep him from laughing. “I could’ve seen that grumpy turtle face of yours from space.”

Unintentionally, you prove his point, drawing your eyebrows together and frowning. “I do not —”

“— Also, I lied,” he interrupts yet again.

This, coupled with the everything else going on, leaves you too stunned to speak.

“This band is all trot, all the time. They don’t take requests — trust me, I tried — but if you stay here with me long enough, we can kill two birds with one stone.”

Seokmin doesn’t wait for you to answer because he knows it’s a yes. He doesn’t wait for you to assume your position, either, and instead holds your left hand in his right before placing your right on his left shoulder. This close, you feel the urge to tell him how handsome he looks with his hair parted off his forehead. You don’t, however.

The music swells behind you. Seokmin leads, and you follow, swaying slowly and moving across the floor.

“Two birds?” You remember to ask, one eyebrow arched.

His right arm lifts. “Spin,” he whispers. You step under his arm, then twirl. While you’re facing the opposite direction, he continues, “There. Do you see it?”

“Oh, my god.”

You do.

The bar stool you were just occupying is now filled by Seokmin’s great-uncle, Hajoon, while his new and much younger girlfriend, Yunhee, hovers near his shoulder. Even from this distance, you can see the look of abject distress on Soyeon’s face, totally unhidden by her attempt to seem engaged.

You return to your position in front of Seokmin, your hand accidentally landing on his bicep, rather than his shoulder. Flustered by the deceptive bulk there, you immediately scoot your palm back to where it belongs.

He leans in so that only you can hear him. It doesn’t feel necessary at all, given how loud the band’s horn section is, but you don’t recoil this time.

“They had me trapped over by the appetizers,” he explains, low voice making you shiver involuntarily. “Every time he started a story with when I was your age, I wanted to point out that Yunhee hadn’t been born yet.”

You can’t help the laugh that erupts out of you and therefore can’t pull your head away from Seokmin’s ear in time to save him. Instead of wincing or complaining, he looks at you and breaks into laughter of his own as soon as your eyes meet. The effect doubles, and before you know it, both of you are teary-eyed.

“How the hell did you get away from him?”

It’s a feat you've never once managed. Uncle Hajoon’s inability to read a room is equal parts due to his horrible hearing and his tendency to never stop talking. Even if he did leave space in the conversation for you to excuse yourself, you’d never successfully get the message across.

Seokmin lifts his arm again but not for you. He takes his leave to spin himself, simpering as he goes, “That’s where Yunhee came in handy, actually. I didn’t know she had it in her, but she’s not as much of a dud as we initially thought.”

“Oh?”

“She told him that I should be able to dance with my girlfriend, and he shouldn’t keep me any longer.” He shrugs. “It didn’t seem like the time to correct her.”

All the heat in your body goes straight to your cheeks. Nonetheless, you attribute it to the dancing and choke out, “No royalties for me, then.”

“Not this time.” Seokmin shakes his head. “I said that Soyeon was trying to catch up with everyone and would love to hear his stories.”

You bite back a grin. “You’re a bastard, you know that?”

“Maybe.” He smiles with every single one of his teeth. “But you’re free.”

“Surprisingly so. I haven’t felt the Eye of Sauron on me at all yet.” Just in case your statement serves as a jinx, you glance around the room for Seonmi. The tension you’ve been keeping in each one of your muscles slackens when, once again, your radar is blip-free.

“Dinner was supposed to start ten minutes ago. If I had to guess, she’s either leaving a scathing Yelp review or personally waterboarding the chef as we speak.”

“Both at the same time,” you counter, earning a wry smile. “She inherited your mom’s self-assuredness. If she believes she can, she will.”

After the pair of you dance through two more songs, the band breaks, and the hotel’s battalion of waiters come in, bearing domed, silver trays. Seokmin takes off in a hurry for your assigned table in the far corner of the ballroom, so famished that he barely remembers to tug you along behind him.

Through the meal and all its complimentary wine pairings, you do your best to focus on the conversation. Seokmin introduced you to the few people sitting with you that you haven’t had the occasion to meet yet. While he does what comes naturally to him, charming them with ease, you struggle for the first time to pay attention to him.

A few tables over, Seonmi sits down with her fiancé, joining the company of her parents; Soyeon and her date are there, too, leaving Seokmin out by design. Like an insane person, you can only watch her, rather than Seokmin’s blatant theft of bites from your plate. She laughs at whatever jokes her mother cracks, but you’d recognize that look of veiled angst anywhere. She isn’t happy, you realize. You can’t avoid the feeling that you’re the reason why she isn’t.

Time passes, somehow too quickly and too slowly. The plates are emptied, then cleared away by the wait staff — except for your half-empty glass, which is your third. Much like the other guests at your table, the joyful buzz you’d been feeling so far leaves, too.

All that’s left is you, Seokmin, and that ominous, storm cloud you can’t seem to shake.

“You’ll probably feel better if you talk to her.”

He’s always more observant than you give him credit for. You snap out of your zoned-out stare across the room in order to look at him. You frown. “I doubt it. She already looks pissed. Me parading my presence here despite her isn’t going to help anything.”

“Bambi,” Seokmin sighs, not impatient but gentle. “She’s not exactly warm, but she has always liked you. There’s literally no reason why she wouldn’t be happy to see you —”

You open your mouth to argue.

“— that happened over twenty years ago, and you really need to stop feeling guilty about it —”

You close your mouth, cross your arms self-consciously, and sink in your seat. Despite yourself, you glance over at him and catch the way he’s looking at you. He doesn’t need to say the words out loud for you to hear them.

It’s either the unspoken dare, his reassuring, soft-eyed smile, or all the blasted merlot that does you in. You’re not sure which of the three was the coup de grâce, and as you slink off towards her table, you realize it doesn’t matter. For one reason or another, you’ve decided that fear isn’t going to get the better of you this time.

Seonmi somehow senses you coming. Even without the band underscoring your movement, your timid steps across the mahogany parquet should’ve been impossible for anyone to pick up on.

Must be an older sister thing, you think, being doomed to keep a perpetual eye on others.

She doesn’t say anything when you slip into the chair next to her, which doesn’t bode well but isn’t a deal breaker, in and of itself. The important thing is that she doesn’t get up to leave. You tell yourself that this is a good sign. The knot in your stomach begs to differ, however.

Say something.

Say anything.

“Everything’s… lovely, Seonmi, seriously.” You gesture around you, smiling, but she only gives you a cursory look. “You’ve really outdone yourself with this one.”

Seonmi takes a sip of her cocktail — something bitter, the petty voice in your head assumes — and lets the corner of her mouth rise slightly. If it’s the closest thing you’ll get to a smile, you’ll take it. She hasn’t granted you a proper one in the decades since you got gum in her favorite Barbie’s hair.

“Thanks, kid,” she sighs, setting the drink back down on her personalized, cardboard coaster.

You can’t remember the last time she called you “Bambi”, let alone your real name. Just like Seokmin, you’ve always been a child to her. Apparently, you always will be, no matter what you do.

Her grip around the glass remains rigid, not unlike her overall posture. Condensation weeps under and around her manicured fingers, uninhibited. You watch those droplets soak through the coaster’s design, darkening her parents’ initials and wedding date, while you mull over whose turn it is to talk.

Ultimately, as is usually the case, Seonmi makes this decision for you. Without so much as a glance at you out of the corner of her eye, she muses, “It was a lot of work, getting all the details ironed out.”

You pick up on the subtext immediately. One of those details would’ve been the guest list; another, the invitations. Seokmin assumed it was all an accident and said as much to you no fewer than a hundred times, but this little comment from his sister blows his assurances to smithereens.

Your exclusion wasn’t an accident at all.

Suddenly, somehow, the room is twenty degrees colder. You shoot a panicked glance over to where Seokmin was just sitting, wanting nothing more than to slink back to his warmth with your tail between your legs; but he’s not where you left him. In fact, he’s nowhere to be found.

Fuck.

“Ah,” is the best you can do.

And then the two of you sit awkwardly in silence while the seconds age in dog years.

You should’ve brought a drink over with you so you’d have something to do with your hands. Or your phone — except you left it on its charger, you idiot — or a time machine, so you can revoke your bullshit decision to walk over here in the first —

“He deserves that, don’t you think?”

The combined suddenness of her voice and the switch in topics makes you jolt ever so slightly. You try to pass it off, to pretend that you’re simply adjusting the skirt of your dress, but your efforts go unnoticed. Seonmi is too busy pointing casually ahead, drawing your focus to the center of the dance floor.

Like absolutely no one else is watching, Mr. Lee twirls around his laughing wife, his heart-shaped smile beaming so brightly that it almost hurts your eyes. The love of his life has to hold one of her hands over her mouth to keep her laughter from bursting out; the other hand is raised with the rest of that arm, allowing her husband to spin himself underneath. When he’s halfway through, she surprises him, drops her arm down, and embraces him fully, giggling all the while.

It almost makes you tear up — Mr. Lee’s unabashed, silly love, and how much it reminds you of his spitting-image of a son; the way Seokmin’s mother’s eyes sparkle in the same blissful, radiant way his do. Maybe the same can’t be said for his older sisters, but it’s abundantly clear where Seokmin came from. It’s even clearer where he should end up.

“Yes,” you breathe, and it almost sounds like a laugh because of course, he does. Before you can stop yourself, you ask, “Is that really a question?”

No, you realize too late, it’s bait.

Without batting an eye, she counters, “Is it really so hard for you to let him have that?”

Seonmi turns her head to look you dead in the eye. Confusingly, despite her words, there’s nothing in her tone or gaze that reads like malice. If anything, the slight furrow of her brow shouts concern.

Your mind is spinning too fast to keep up with. Whatever her next move is, you’re too dizzy now to see it coming and too disoriented to follow it. With the knot in your stomach tightening further, you stammer, “Is — what?”

“God,” Seonmi drops her face into her hands. “You don’t get it, do you?”

A fish on dry land, all you seem to know how to do is open and close your mouth. You may not be literally flailing, but with the state your mind is in, you may as well start.

“Seokmin loves love.”

She says each of these words slowly, like she’s trying to hammer each nail through a thick skull.

“It’s the one thing he’s wanted most since he was a kid, yet I can count on one hand the number of short-term relationships he’s been in. He doesn’t ever bring anyone home to meet us; he doesn’t bring anyone to weddings, or parties, or holidays; he just brings you.”

Of course, you’ve been right there through all of his situationships. He’s always scant on details when they end — and you’ve never pressed for any — but you know better than anyone that nothing has stuck long-term.

You’ve never thought about how odd this really is, but with Seonmi spelling it out for you now, you can’t come up with a single, good reason why someone as objectively incredible as Seokmin can’t make these things work — or why, even as you rack your brain, the only constant you can find in his life is you.

She glares now, as if she’s daring you to speak; as if you’ve got anything she’d deem worth adding. The bulldozer revs up again, whether you’re ready or not: “You’ve always been the only person he saves space for, whether or not there’s a place for you, and he has no room left in his life for someone to love him like that —”

Seonmi points again to her parents, who are circling slowly on the dance floor, talking softly to one another.

“So, what is it? Do you truly not see what he’s missing, or are you choosing not to because you like his attention?”

Your eyes burn with tears, but you can’t let them fall, and you can’t wrap your head around why that is.

Who are you hiding them from: Seonmi or yourself?

The longer she stares at you, the muddier it gets. You don’t want her to be right. You don’t want to be the kind of person she’s describing; but there’s something awful whispering in the back of your mind, saying that you might be.

You’ve left every relationship you’ve been in, telling everyone who asks in the aftermath that you like being on your own better. But that’s bullshit. It’s not your own company that you keep when you’re single; it Seokmin’s.

He makes sure that you never spend a day feeling alone, that he’s always available over the phone in the rare times he’s not physically with you. As his best friend, he treats you better than every single one of your exes ever has. Like you’re worth more than anyone else will credit you.

What kind of friend are you if you feel relieved whenever his relationships expire?

Seonmi’s hand drops, landing half-heartedly clenched on the tabletop. Just the same, her voice drops until it’s almost a whisper.

“I am begging you,” she pleads, eyes narrowing desperately as they search yours. “If you don’t want him, someone else will. Please just — get the hell out of their way.”

By the time you reach the elevator, all you’re left with is a blur. You’ve already forgotten how the conversation ended, or which one of you was the first to get up. If she said anything else to you, it was drowned out by your own hammering pulse and a looping chorus of voices validating your biggest fear, stating in no uncertain terms that you don’t belong.

You’re shaking when you reach your floor. Heels clicking under unsteady footsteps, you make for room 218; and as you go, you shove your hand into the well-concealed pocket of your dress for the keycard Seokmin forgot to grab himself on the way out earlier.

He’s certainly not in the room when you finally step inside, although you have no clue where he’s gone. It’s for the best. The door closes behind you, and with no one to see it happen, you burst into tears.

All rational thought flies out the window, shaken off by the tornado of utter confusion tearing through your brain. You grab your suitcase, needing nothing more than to be anywhere else, and begin haphazardly throwing your things back inside of it.

Why did you still come with him, knowing it wouldn’t end well? It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve told him no; he would’ve listened if you truly meant it.

If you didn’t mean it when you initially tried to squirrel your way out of this, why not? Was it just your friend asking sincerely that won you over without a fight; or was it because you knew, deep down, it’d hurt to see him bring someone else?

Why would it hurt?

The answer to that will crack the foundation of everything the two of you have built, but only if you admit it to yourself. It can’t threaten you if you don’t say it out loud, don’t make it real.

So, you won’t.

You’ll bury it deeply enough to forget about, repour the concrete, and tiptoe through the rest of your life with your best friend still at your side.

That is, if your friendship survives the weekend — rather, your sudden departure from it — at all.

“Halmoni, it’s time to go back to your hotel, okay?”

He coos this, as if he’s pleading with a toddler at bedtime, because that’s exactly what it feels like to wrangle the drunk, 80-year-old clinging to his arm.

Physically, she needs to hold onto Seokmin to keep herself steady. Mentally, she’s ready to run and has made several attempts to do just that when she thinks his guard is down. It’s no wonder the hotel staff cornered him and begged him for help; she’s too wily for those who don’t know her.

The manager had at least done him the courtesy of hailing a cab. It sits out front, warm and waiting, while he shepherds his grandmother through the lobby.

“— and another thing!” She slurs.

There is never not another thing. She shouldn’t bother concluding her sentences in the first place; she’s never done talking.

“I told your sister — I said, Sunny —”

Seonmi, he dares to presume, although he doesn’t dare to correct her.

“— you can’t have stuff like this —” She gestures animatedly, albeit vaguely around her. “— in places like this and expect retirees to pay for it! I said — oh, what did I say? — Ah, I said, ‘find me the cheapest motel in the area, or I’ll be staying in your room with you’ —”

Her kitten heels hit the brick outside with an angry thwump.

Seokmin can’t help himself. “She didn’t go for that?”

“No!” His grandmother squawks.

The driver sees the ball of a woman wobbling his way and quickly exits the cab, skirts around it, and flings the back door open for her.

“I can’t imagine why, halmoni,” he lies through his teeth, which shine down on her in his best, least sincere smile. “You’re a blast in a glass.”

She roars with laughter, even while two grown adults work together to pour her into the backseat without bumping her head on the doorframe. “Glast in a blass!”

“Exactly. Can you —?”

He gives up before he finishes voicing his request; it’s no use. Instead, he bends down to hug her and finagles the buckle of her seatbelt while she’s too distracted to fight him off. That click is the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard, after the clunk of the door shutting her in.

By the time Seokmin turns to the cab driver, his grandmother is fully slumped in her seat, pilled peacoat rising and falling with every wine-laced breath.

“I am so sorry.” He sighs, which devolves into a sheepish laugh, and fishes all of the cash out of his pocket. No tip could possibly cover the emotional toll of this ordeal, so he does his best and gives the driver everything he has.

The driver’s eyes widen. Seokmin gets the impression that he doesn’t quite understand the task he’s undertaking.

Poor bastard.

Seokmin continues, “My grandfather is at the inn already; he didn’t feel well enough to come here, but he’ll be ready to get her inside once you drop her off.”

“Sounds easy enough.” The driver smiles and holds out his hand to shake.

Seokmin reciprocates, and he declines to explain just how wrong that assessment is. He thanks the man and chirps a quick goodbye to his grandmother before rushing back inside.

Walking into the ballroom, he hopes to find you and Seonmi laughing about whatever misunderstanding had gotten in your way before. At the very least, he expects you to still be sitting next to each other at the same table. That would be good enough, he thinks; he could assist in repairing the situation from there.

The problem, it seems, is beyond his help. Neither one of you occupies the same table. If his quick scan tells him anything, you’re not even in the same room.

No matter which way he turns, he can’t spot you. His sister, on the other hand, is near the far corner, having what looks like a nightmarish conversation with their parents. There are approximately five billion things Seokmin would rather do than get in the middle of that, but you don’t have your phone on you, and he has no other way to find out where you went.

Above the heads of the two women, Seokmin’s father catches sight of his approach. They lock eyes; there’s something insane in his father’s gaze. The older man shakes his head, mouthing “no.”

Seokmin stops short, raises his hands with the palms up to get across his confusion, and mouths back, “Bambi?”

In response, his father extends a single finger and points upwards. He then makes a shooing motion with his hand. His wife and daughter are so engrossed in their argument that neither of them catches the pantomime or Seokmin’s quick exit, back the way he came.

On the elevator ride upstairs, Seokmin worries. The most likely explanation is that you went to find your phone so that you could find him – but you haven’t texted or called him in the time he’s been looking for you, so he supposes it isn’t likely after all.

Maybe, he thinks, the wine caught up to you. You’re not as strong a drinker as you think you are. While he walks down the hallway to room 218, he steels himself. Even though you both hate it, he’s ready to hold your hair if he walks in and finds you with your head in the toilet. That dress looks too good on you not to be expensive; he’d rather talk you out of your embarrassment tomorrow than have you shell out for dry-cleaning.

You didn’t deadbolt the door behind you, which strikes him as odd. In fact, you didn’t even close it properly; it isn’t latched. All he has to do is tap on it for the door to open.

“Bambi?” He calls out before stepping inside entirely, thinking it’s only decent to confirm in advance that he’s not an intruder. “Sorry for disappearing. I had to pour my grandmother into a cab – it was exactly as awful as it sounds.”

The faint rustling sound he hears isn’t coming from the bathroom, which is both dark and unoccupied. Part of him wants to take this as a good sign, but the rest of him wonders if he’s walking in on a burglary. That flicker of fear is followed by a stupid sense of validation:

You always laugh at him when he cites this as his reason for choosing the bed closest to the door; you claim it’s statistically unlikely. Finally being able to say “I told you so” after a robbery wouldn’t make either of your belongings magically reappear, of course. That said, it might make him feel a little better.

But the figure rooting through your suitcase isn’t a bandit at all. It’s you with your coat on.

“Um,” he starts, unintentionally startling you. “What is��.”

His question peters out when you look up at him. There are broken mascara tracks down your cheeks, as if you tried to wipe them off without actually looking at them. Above them, your wide eyes are wet, like you’re seconds away from crying all over again. Even worse, you’re trembling.

Seokmin’s only instinct is to reach for you. Before he can wrap his arms around you, you jerk away from him. “Please don’t.”

So, he stops, though he doesn’t understand why. This is quite literally the only time in your life that you’ve pushed him away.

“What’s going on?” Ideally, he’d project calm at a time like this. He just sounds desperate. “What happened with Seonmi?”

“She — um, she didn’t — It wasn’t that bad; I’m just… You know how sensitive I get when I drink wine.”

Like a switch flips, a half-hearted smile takes over the bottom half of your face. It’s not real; if it was, your eyes would light up and crinkle at the corners. Whatever that look is, it’s bullshit.

Seokmin gestures to your suitcase, where everything you brought with you has been unceremoniously shoved. “Sensitive enough to, what, run away? No. I’m not buying it. She said something — or did something — to make you this upset. Bambi, what happened?”

His urgency is selfish, he knows it. Seonmi’s always been way too intuitive for her own good. There’s no way she hasn’t noticed the way he looks at you when you aren’t looking; how god-awful he is at acting platonic.

He tries — has been trying, for a long time now — to shake these feelings off because he knows you’re not emotionally available. Because he knows who he’s supposed to be for you, and how devastating it would be if he threw your friendship away.

That devastation is right in front of him now; and it’ll push you out of his life forever if he doesn’t shut it down. He has to get in front of it.

You strike first, though. “Seokmin, why didn’t you bring anyone else?”

There are two ways for him to interpret that question: with the emphasis on anyone, meaning not you; or as an escape route. For your sake, he chooses the latter.

“She gave me a plus-one, not a plus-two,” he says softly.

Despite his tone, it must hit you like a punch. You nod curtly, once. “Got it. Basic math. Thanks, Seokmin; that was never my strongest subject.”

Foot, meet mouth.

You immediately set back to work, reaching for the lid of your suitcase to close and zip. Before he thinks once, let alone twice, his hand darts out and flattens against the mesh inner pocket on the top, preventing you from doing so.

“No.” He shakes his head firmly. “Not happening.”

You don’t scowl at him the way he expects, nor do you even stop to look at him. It’s far worse than that; your eyes start swimming, focused helplessly on your suitcase.

When you speak, your voice cracks. “I shouldn’t have come in the first place. I knew that this invitation shit wasn’t an accident; I knew I wasn’t welcome to —”

“— You came anyway.” Seokmin doesn’t mean to snap at you, but the point is moot. Softening at the edges, he quickly continues, “And I’m glad that you did because I don’t want to be here with ‘anyone else’.”

It’s not the whole truth, so it may as well be a lie. You know him too well for him to get away with it; it was stupid of him to try. Your head turns, and the slight narrow of your eyes says it all.

I triple-dog dare you to tell me the truth.

This fork in the road has two dead ends. His only options are to do just that or double down and lie straight to your face, while you see straight through him. Either option pulls the pin, he figures, so it’s no longer a question of who gets hurt; it’s who gets hurt worse.

Seokmin jumps on the grenade.

“I don’t want to be with anyone else!”

It comes out too loudly, startling you. In a way, it’s angry, too. He wishes could project that anger onto Seonmi for starting shit, as usual, but the person he’s maddest at is himself for putting you both in this position.

For the first time ever, he can’t decipher the expression on your face. He’d shove his foot into his mouth to try and keep himself quiet, but his adrenaline is firing on all cylinders, and he can’t seem to stop shouting.

“And I’m really fucking sorry to say it because I know you don’t want to hear it, not from me or anyone else. So, you can leave, alright? I’m not going to stop you.”

The force of the surprise almost knocks the air out of him, so quick that Seokmin can’t process what’s happening until his back is flush to the wall behind him — until your hands, flat against his white button-up, curl to grip the fabric, and you kiss him so hard that he sees stars.

You’re surprised too, it seems. When you pull away, chest heaving, you freeze in the same way he does. Eyes searching the other’s, unsure of what to do now that twenty-plus years’ worth of boundaries have been blown to bits.

You whisper, “Are you still sorry?”

Of the five million feelings swelling inside of him — fear, kind of; joy, yes; fucked up by your blown-out pupils, definitely — regret isn’t one of them.

Actually…

He cups your face in his hands like water from a spring, drinks down the sight of you in this new and perfect light. “I’m only sorry that it took me this long to tell you,” he confesses before kissing you back twice as hard.

You’d ask Seokmin to pinch you and prove to you that you’re not dreaming, but the fear you feel at the thought of waking up is too overwhelming.

Even if it wasn’t, he can’t help you, can he?

His hands are far too busy.

Your pretty dress is long gone now, having been shucked off and tossed somewhere out of sight. In its place, it’s Seokmin’s body that now drapes over yours, warm in touch and tone, like molten gold.

His middle and marriage fingers curl inside you, working you up again; and all you can do is cling desperately to his hair, whimper, and wait for the fall.

“I take back what I said earlier,” he murmurs between nips and kisses at your neck.

You can’t ask him to elaborate. You’re too close to careening over the edge for the second time tonight; too busy babbling fucking nonsense.

His simper against your throat reverberates all the way down, lights up your every nerve in tandem like a switchboard. “Only an idiot would tell you to be less expressive.”

The pad of his thumb swirls over your clit; its movement synchronizes with his middle finger inside of you, targeting your weak spot. He presses down on that spongy patch of nerves, and your hips buck involuntarily, a hallmark of your body begging for you while your words fail.

“You were right, though.”

You summon all your concentration. “I’m always right,” you counter. Seokmin pulls his mouth away from the underside of your jaw just to look at you pointedly. “You’ll have to be more specific.”

He picks up the pace of his ministrations, pulling no punches. You’re teetering on the ledge with no real ability to lift your own neck; your head crashes back against the pillow as you wail, clenching and gushing around his fingers.

“I do know how sensitive you get,” he snickers before slipping his fingers from you and sweeping down to kiss you sweetly.

The ringing in your ears has barely subsided, but you’ve decided not to take anymore of his teasing laying down. Slipping your fingers from his hair, you move your hands to his shoulders; and with whatever muscle control you still maintain, you flip him off of you, onto his back.

“How long —”

You climb over his lap and straddle him, placing your palms flat against his chest. It’s as much a show of dominance as it is a carefully disguised trick for balance.

“— have you been waiting to say that?”

Caught red handed, Seokmin shoots you that trademark, heart-shaped smile. His cheeks were already flushed from the effort he just expended on you; that perfect pink only deepens when he blushes and laughs, “What, you think I can’t come up with killer lines in the heat of the moment?”

You scratch your nails gently down the lines of his abdominal muscles. “Nope,” you purr.

Sitting up on his elbows, Seokmin tilts his head to the side and narrows his dark eyes at you. You’re nowhere near used to seeing him look at you like this, like you’re something to be devoured. The feeling of being wanted so badly makes your stomach flip.

“Give me some credit, won’t you?” He asks, voice low. “You’re a knockout; you’re naked in front of me for the first time; and it’s a miracle I can talk at all when I feel this concussed.”

When you lean in, he licks his lips expectantly. You’re close enough to kiss him, of course, but you stop a few millimeters shy of your mark and watch him fight the urge to pout. His eyes search yours, almost pleadingly.

“Is that why you’re still not naked?”

Seokmin’s next move is to reach for the black briefs he’s still got on, but you stop him, encircling each of his wrists with your hands.

“Ah, ah, ah,” you tut with a patronizing shake of your head. “You’re fired. I’m in control now.”

If the little sigh he lets out is any indication, he is very much on board with your self-promotion.

He takes your cue and reels himself in, allowing you to move further down his body, your fingertips hooking under his elastic waistband and tugging as you go. When his length finally springs free, you duck your head to take him into your mouth, beyond eager to feel his weight on your tongue.

“Oh, my god,” he groans, eyelids fluttering, while you swirl your tongue around his head. “Feels s-so —”

The rest of his sentence gets stuck in his throat; you take what you can of him down your own throat, working whatever remains with your hand.

Seokmin wants so badly to watch, you know he does, but he’s sensitive, too. His head tips back, eyes closed and mouth hanging open.

It’s messy, the spit dribbling down your chin and the sound brought forth by the suction of your mouth around him. The obscenity of it all spurs you on. Nothing inspires you quite like Seokmin’s breathy whines and low moans, though. Above all else, it’s his reaction to you that slicks the inside of your thighs.

You’d give him the ending he deserves, right down the back of your throat, but you feel his fingertips graze your shoulder, beckoning you to look up at him.

Voice rough, he pleads, “Come here.”

With his steadying hands on you, you move back into your original position with your bent knees on either side of him. You immediately spot the indent his teeth have left on his lower lip, which is now slightly swollen. Delicately, you brush your thumb over the mark. “Oh, you’re a goner.”

Seokmin looks at you pointedly. Though you tease, you’re even worse off: drunk on the taste of him, as much as the sight of him underneath you, wanting you just as badly.

“Alright, alright,” you concede. “I am, too.”

The hand you use to wave dismissively at him then reaches down between your thighs, fingers wrapping around his cock and lining it up with your entrance.

“But I’m taking you down with me.”

And you do.

So thoroughly that you barely recall him staggering off to the bathroom when all is said and done, the wash cloth he returns with to clean you up, or the way you slump into his waiting arms before promptly falling asleep.

You sleep so soundly, in fact, that you don’t stir when the sun blares through the open curtains. Likewise, when Seokmin carefully maneuvers himself out of the tangle of your limbs and places your head on a real pillow instead, you’re none the wiser.

What finally gets to you is the clatter of the expensive, hotel-issued shampoo clattering against the floor of the shower, echoing off the tile like a sonic boom. You sit bolt upright in bed, staring bleary-eyed in the direction of the bathroom.

As if on cue, Seokmin pokes his head out of the doorway to see if you managed to sleep through the noise. Damp hair splays over his forehead, hanging just as loosely as his lazily-knotted bathrobe. If you weren’t still too sleepy to function, you’d love nothing more than to grab him by that tie and drag him back to bed.

“Shit. I’m sorry, Bambi,” he coos, though his mouth is full of both toothpaste and a toothbrush in a distinctly greener shade of blue than usual.

You merely point at his mouth with a half-powered look of distress, otherwise unable to put your suspicion into words. He doesn’t get it; he glances down at his chest, looking for what he assumes is a stray glob of paste.

When you finally do speak, it’s a prayer: “Please tell me that’s not mine.”

Seokmin blinks at you, then down his nose at the toothbrush he’s using. He cocks his head to the side, opens his mouth to assure you it isn’t, and finally, when the realization makes his eyes widen, he groans.

You wail, “Noooooo!”

Memories of your last trip together clash before your mind — specifically, attempting to navigate a drug store in a foreign language while you shopped for the replacement toothbrush Seokmin is currently holding.

Ears bright red with embarrassment, he ducks back into the bathroom. Immediately, you hear a rush of water from the tap, which nearly drowns out his feeble cry of “I’m sorry!”

“I know it’s an honest mistake, but how do you make it twice?”

You collapse back onto the pillows and bury your face in your palms; and you stay that way, even when you hear him padding softly over to you. The mattress shifts under his weight as he makes his way, one knee at a time, until you feel him looming over you. His hands reach out and gently pull yours from your face.

Before you can get any ideas, Seokmin flattens himself on top of you; a weighted blanket, smelling like vanilla and spearmint. He folds his arms across your chest and props his chin up on the top of his right wrist, bright eyes sparkling as he peers up at you.

Suddenly, you find it very difficult to be annoyed with him. The worst part is that none of this is by design. He always just looks at you this way, not to get out of trouble but because you’re you.

Your hand reaches out of its own accord and brushes the remaining damp strands off his forehead. When your touch lingers, Seokmin leans into it, warming your palm with his cheek.

“Hey,” you say, after failing to come up with anything better.

He beams. “Hi.”

“Why are we awake at this hour?”

That smile of his evaporates slowly, giving way to a grimace you’ve seen before. “Seungcheol and Mingyu want to meet up at the ski lodge before the post-brunch crowd gets there,” he explains. “And I told my parents we’d get breakfast with them first, since yesterday was… well, mostly a disaster.”

“And it will conveniently provide you with time to think of a way out of snowboarding?” You chuckle quietly and pat his cheek.

Seokmin shakes his head firmly, then stretches his neck enough to kiss you.

“No,” he mumbles defiantly against your lips. “I never back down from a triple-dog dare.”

448 notes · View notes

sooniebby · 10 months ago

Note

Alr bro I am BACK from the Malevolent Kitchen- So this whole thing takes place in the Heian era, when Sukuna was at his strongest and walking around as a four armed, tall monster of a man (he has two massive dicks I am not being told otherwise don't even play, lad)

Reader (do I even gotta say it? I'm real predictable let's be fr 💀) as Sukuna's favourite shrine keeper- as he's speaking to some sorcerers (prolly begging for mercy or smth), he calls the reader over and commands him to strip and warm his (massive) cocks, all the while the poor sorcerers are just fucking sitting there. Eventually, he gets tired of the reader just warming his cocks and commands him to start moving, scoffing when the reader is too slow for his liking- ultimately he just grabs the reader's hips with his lower pair of arms, using him like a fleshlight,,,,,,,

ALSO if and only if you are feeling up to it,,,,, skip to modern day when Sukuna gets incarnated again and is immediately like okay where the fuck is reader (he's been alive with Uraume, which is why he hasn't physically aged, either) so he can drag the reader into his innate domain and get his dick wet after centuries of no bf :((( kinks- degradation, sadism/masochism, size, double penetration, exhibitionism

ఌ 𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀 𝐑𝐘𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍

꧁ 𝙍𝙮𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙣 𝙭 𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙨 𝙢𝙖��𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 ꧂

w.c. › 9.1k

Warnings › first time ever writing Sukuna. Reader is trans male and he has breasts. Use of breasts and chest is interchangeable. Pussy, cunt, and hole are also used. Sukuna is still very mean but I made him just a little bit nicer, cuz romance lmao. Mentions of suicide. Boku is the JPN male version of I. Reader slurs his speech a lot

Kinks › degradation, sadism/masochism, size, double penetration, exhibitionism, nipple play, creampie, breast/chest play

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

Wakizashi.

That’s what your dad called it. A Wakizashi. Shorter than a katana, larger than a dagger. The only weapon a civilian could handle in broad daylight without being seen as a threat. Many used it as a way to commit suicide.

He told you to use it for that reason.

It was the only good thing you could do.

The Fujiwara clan was powerful. No doubt about it. And while your father wasn’t the strongest, he was well respected. Many were excited when his wife was pregnant with you. Even when you came out as a girl, they weren’t too disappointed. Even a woman could be a strong sorcerer.

But you never did.

You had a curse technique.

But it was weak. It was fully based on defense.

The technique to manipulate shadows. But it was only your own. You could hide well but how does that help you in combat?

Didn’t help when you started spewing “nonsense” of not being a woman.

That earned you multiple whippings.

Everyone in the clan stopped paying attention to you after that moment. Your back covered in scars.

And the one large scar across your face.

Your Wakizashi flickered in the soft pale moonlight. The gold casing shining proudly. You took great care of it.

The harsh patters of feet caught your attention. You stood up from your makeshift mat, shuffling over to the small crack in your dilapidated cabin. It was practically a box. You glanced out, seeing multiple assassins hurriedly rushing out.

It looked to be the entirety of the Sun, Moon, and Stars Squad and then Five Empty Generals. Odd.

You shrugged it off, going back to lay down. You turned your attention back to your Wakizashi. It was the only thing you had in this box. You flicked your wrists, practicing your technique.

Even though you were weak, you still practiced everyday. With a sigh, you collapsed onto the bed. The rebellions you used to do as a child seemed so silly now. Cutting your hair, bathing with men, wearing male kimonos. Just to be locked away in the corner of your own home.

The door was unlocked but they made sure to make you fear even pushing it open.

Your mother took pity on you, being the one to deliver you food. You were sure that if she didn’t, you would’ve starved to death. But she seemed to be late today.

The soft sound of wind creaked against the old box. It shook slightly, always threatening to just collapse over you. Your eyes fluttered closed, clutching your Wakizashi close. It was only a few minutes later when the sounds of screaming caught your attention.

“He’s here!”

“Do not run away! We are the Toh!”

You sat up, staring at your door as the screams women, men, and even children reverberated through the cabin. Your grip tightened around the Wakizashi, bringing it up to your chest. Slowly, you crawled over to the door, pulling it inward to peek outside.

The sight… was horrific.

Blood. Blood everywhere. Weapons scattered. Arms detached. Heads rolling off bodies. Even a few bodies didn’t have the upper half. Many sliced into pieces.

You wanted to vomit. Who was doing this?

The Toh… was defeated.

You stepped outside the cabin, your bare feet touching the soft grass. The grass was colored red as you walked over to the piles of bodies. Your eyes scanning them, being able to name at least a fraction of the corpses. Underneath one, your mother’s eyes stared right at you.

Your breathing hitched, your hand clamping around your mouth. Despite the cruelty they gave you—it was difficult seeing them like this. The further you walked to the entrance of the Toh estate, the more gruesome each body became.

A few just being blood splattered against the floor.

“(Name).”

You shrieked, feeling a hand grasp your leg. It wasn’t someone you knew but her eyes were filled with fear. Blood trickled down her face.

“Run…. For your own sake.” She whispered.

Your eyes trailed over her body before you backed away.

The lower half of her body was gone.

Her arm fell down as her eyes closed.

You needed to run. If people as powerful as your clan were dropping like flies, you’d be killed immediately if this thing came to see you.

You began to run. Ignoring the bodies you had to jump or step over. You kept your eyes straight ahead. The Wakizashi tight in your grip. You hoped and prayed you would make it out free.

“Sukuna, is there any you want for dinner later?”

A horrid gasp left your body as you skid to a stop.

Your dad’s head hung from the grasp of a person. They were dressed in a kimono, short white hair. They held your father’s head up to a… thing behind them. The thing took your father’s head and examined it before tossing it aside.

“Not that one. Look for another.”

Its voice shook your body. The two of them were speaking as if they were looking at meat. Did they eat humans? But the white haired one looked like a human. You didn’t get the chance to think further when they suddenly turned over to you.

“Was something there?” The white haired one asked.

They saw nothing. The spot you once stood was empty, the only sight being corpses. They turned over to the thing, Sukuna.

“Go look for acceptable meat, Uraume.”

“Yes, Sukuna.”

Uraume began to move a few of the bodies about, looking for one that was acceptable for Sukuna. Sukuna hummed, cracking his neck as he looked around. His staggering form covered in blood. He stared in the direction of where you once stood.

You kept silent, staring right back at him. You had hastily summoned your curse technique, making yourself invisible to the naked eye. Your curse technique allowed you to hide in the shadows and even manipulate your own to hide yourself.

But it wasn’t strong, you could never hold it for longer than five minutes. And you haven’t eaten all day, you were weak. Hiding yourself physically didn’t hide any noises you made. So you clamped your lips shut, trying to not breathe, hoping he’d look away.

If you moved, he’d surely hear your footsteps, especially with how quiet it was. Your knuckles turned white as you clamped tightly at your Wakizashi.

Unable to hold it any longer, you let out a soft huff, pulling in as many air as possible.

But that was enough for Sukuna.

A large puff of air attacked you as you lost control of your technique, suddenly becoming visible. You collapsed to the ground, crying out in shock as you stared up at Sukuna.

He was large. Four arms and two faces. His eyes narrowed at you, glancing over you as he began to smirk. Blood covered his body. You knew your father and mother’s blood was mixed in there.

“How could I have missed you? You puny little thing.” He reached over to grab your hair but it went right through your body. Sukuna huffed, slightly confused on what just happened.

Your other ability, besides just becoming one with shadows, was the short ability to make your body unable to be touched. Sukuna pulled back clamping his fist before thrusting it into your chest.

It went through, but he didn’t kill you. Sukuna pulled his arm away, his head tilting. He didn’t look angry, on the contrary. He looked amused.

You quickly pulled the sheath off your Wakizashi and stood up on shaky legs. You had never fought. Never even used the Wakizashi against a real opponent besides a tree.

Sukuna chuckled. “Do your best.” He said, grinning. It was no encouragement. He didn’t even move into a fighting stance. Just from a look at you, he knew he was going to win.

“Domain Expansion: Moonlight Paradise.”

Dark matter spilled out from the ground as it formed into an orb around you and Sukuna. Your domain wasn’t strong. It wasn’t anything that helped you win fights.

It was a paradise.

A crescent moon shined, adding light to the otherwise dark domain. Spider lilies grew from the ground, surrounding you like a barrier of protection. A large sakura tree sprouted from the ground, growing tall as it quickly blossomed.

You shivered as you looked up at Sukuna. A feeling of bile filled your throat as you doubled over and coughed out blood. Sukuna looked at you with disgust, the hell was this?

“Is this your best?” He asked, stepping over to you. He was hoping for some sort of fight. But this was all you had to offer? A piss poor attempt at a domain.

You held out your Wakizashi, handing the hilt to Sukuna.

“If… die…” You winced, unsure of how to explain yourself. You weren’t taught to speak. Not after your whipping at age 9. And with everyone no longer speaking to you, you hadn’t spoken in years. Your voice was hoarse, struggling to work after years of being dormant.

You made the effort to write and read. But you stopped speaking. You hated your voice. This female voice that wasn’t yours.

Even now, just hearing your voice made you angry.

It’s a shame you were going to die with this voice.

“If…I…must die…You…willdo..bymy…Wakizashi.”

“Boku?” Sukuna muttered, staring at you. His eyes roamed your body. You weren’t a man. Not by the sight of your ample chest. You were wearing a female kimono. But your hair was cut short by a blade, judging by the jagged ends.

“Boku!” You screamed, glaring at him. You weren’t going to die being misgendered. You were going to die with the pride of being a male.

Sukuna grabbed the Wakizashi. It was small in his large hand. He lazily spun it around, making you slightly worried that he’d break it.

“You call yourself a man but you give up so easily?” He tossed the Wakizashi to your feet. “Pick it up. You have a technique, use it.”

You bent down, picking it up. “Nouse…strongerthan… me.” You could tell he had a bit of trouble understanding you, but you didn’t care. You just wanted your death to be over with.

“Why the domain?”

“diein…pretty…place..”

Sukuna glanced around. Your domain seemed to be just for aesthetic. There wasn’t any hint of anything else brewing inside. Nothing that was waiting to attack him. You really seemed set on dying without a fight.

You knew your place quite well.

He liked that.

“Domain Expansion: Malevolent Shrine.”

Your own peaceful domain was torn to shreds as red covered the sky. A large Buddhist shrine grew out of the ground behind Sukuna. Skulls decorated it. It looked to be human skulls. The ground beneath you became dark water.

But your spider lilies stayed alive. The crescent moon still shining down on you.

Sukuna sat down on his throne, his leg resting against the arm. He stared down at you, his eyes roaming you from his new position over you.

The Sakura tree died, disappearing like a puff of smoke. You collapsed to the floor and coughed heavily, the toll of opening your domain already affecting your body.

“Are you from the Toh?” He suddenly asked.

You mutely nodded.

“Look at me when I speak to you.”

You glanced up, trying to ignore the growing pit of fear in your belly. He smirked, leaning forward. One of his hands resting on his knee. The other holding up his chin.

“I find you interesting. I’ll allow you to live, as my shrine keeper. Once I’m bored, I’ll kill you.”

“inmy…domain..?”

“If that’s what you desire.”

Despite the voices in your head tell you to not accept, you nodded. You knew at most, this curse would only let you live for a day or two before he kills you. At the very least, you’d get to enjoy Earth’s beauty in the fullest.

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

“You’re filthy.”

A basin of water poured over your head as you shivered outside, fully nude. Your arms tightened around your chest as you were soaked twice before a rag began to rub against your body.

It was Uraume. They weren’t impressed that Sukuna had chosen to keep you alive. You were weak, what did Sukuna gain from keeping you?

But Uraume didn’t question it. They knew their limitations.

“When was the last time you bathed?”

You winced, being roughly manhandled to face Uraume as they kneeled down, scrubbing between your legs.

“River…bathein..River.”

Uraume hummed. Their hand trailed upward, unabashedly scrubbing your pussy before moving to your ass. “What’s your technique? Or were you not blessed with one?”

“Shadows.”

“How does it work?”

You bit your lip, unable to stop the slight giggle when Uraume moved up to your ribcage. They stopped for a second, believing they had hurt you until you gave a slight smile. They huffed and continued on, making sure no part of your body was left untouched.

With the moonlight shining down on you, you glanced down at Uraume’s shadow. You reached out and gently poked the shadow’s cheek. Uraume stopped, looking up at you with wide eyes.

You couldn’t help but grin. You grabbed the shadow’s hair, twirling a strand. A strand of Uraume’s hair began to twirl as if a finger was doing it. But there was nothing holding it up.

“You can manipulate shadows?”

“Mhn…justtouch.” You slurred. “Can’t…domuch…wasn’t…taught.”

You stepped away, shyly smiling as you slowly disappeared into your own shadow. Uraume hummed, nodding themselves as they watched you come back up.

“Can’t…hidefor…long. Noise…canbe…heard.”

“Do you have no offense attack?”

You shook your head. “Touch…couldbe…offensive…buti…can’t… can’t handle…weapons..too…weak.”

“I don’t believe that. Every curse can be offensive. You simply wasn’t trained properly.” Uraume walked over, grabbing the basin filled with water. They brought over your head and dumped it, ignoring your slight shriek at the cold water.

“It won’t matter now. Sukuna more than likely won’t let you live longer than a day. It’s a shame.” They draped a small towel over your body. “Use this to dry off. I’ll retrieve your clothing.”

As you dried off, you thought about what they said.

Was that true?

Could you use your technique for offense?

It made sense. You were never taught to try as you had quickly mastered hiding first. And then the whole problem of your stunts of being a male, it’s no wonder you stuck to defense.

It was the only way you could protect yourself from such hatred.

It didn’t matter now though. You were going to die in a day, anyway.

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

It’s been months.

It’s been months and you were still alive.

It was shocking. After the first day, you were so sure you were going to die. But Sukuna didn’t even pay attention to you. He walked right past you. He hardly talks to you at all.

You stuck to cleaning his shrine, most of the time.

Even Uraume seemed surprised you even made it to a week. But soon, they started to treat you… decently? They showed you how to cook certain meals and if they were up to it, taught you ways to use your curse technique in an offensive manner.

“Speak slowly.” Uraume said, sitting across from you in the small room. You and Uraume lived in a small minka, just a few feet away from Sukuna’s shrine. He seemed to have two shrines, one in his domain and the other here.

You sighed, nodding your head. Uraume would sometimes hold speaking lessons. They had gotten tired of having to listen to your almost incoherent way of speech.

“I…wield…theknife—”

“—The. Knife.”

“The…Knife…”

“Continue.”

“The…Knife…to…cut…meat.”

“Good enough. Go bathe.”

You nod, grabbing your Wakizashi and walking outside. Since the minka was small, the shower area was just outside the home. Your robes pooled around your feet as you filled in the basin, yawning to yourself.

“You’re still here?”

A chill rushes up your spine as you look back, gasping in shock. It was Sukuna. He stood only a few feet away from you, his eyes trailing down your nude body. You blush, using your hands to cover your crotch and chest from his gaze.

“whatdo…you..mean..? Why…wouldi..leave?”

Sukuna smirked. “You have no sense of free will. You had multiple attempts to run away. Uraume can’t sense you when you use your technique. Yet you’re still here.” He walks over to you, kneeling down to your level. You gulp, wondering if this is the moment of your demise.

His hand reaches out, coming into close contact with your face.

Your eyes clamp shut, leaning away.

But he doesn’t hurt you.

You feel a hand squeeze your right breast. You open one eye and look down. Sukuna’s hand squeezes your breast as he hummed in satisfaction.

“It’s soft.” He said.

“Mngh?!” You shriek, unable to really move in fear he’d tear you in two.

Two of his hands grasp both of your legs, spreading them open as you cry out. You were practically manhandled, spread open for his eyes to see. Your hands flung to his chest, embarrassment filling your chest as you tried to calm down your heavy breathing.

“If you wish to keep living, become useful to me.”

“Useful…?”

“I already have a cook. I need pleasure in other ways.”

A feather like touch teased your cunt. You gasped, looking down to see his one free hand slightly teasing your cunt. You’ve never touched yourself down there. It felt odd. You didn’t understand how this could give him any sort of pleasure.

Sukuna seemed to notice your confusion as he chuckled lightly, manhandling you to rest on your back, legs still held up high.

“I will simply train you to handle me.” Two fingers sinked into your tight heat. You felt your body thrash against his hold, believing he was somehow killing you. It felt strange. So strange to have something inside you.

Was this apart of his technique?

Would you explode if he curled his finger?!

Sukuna chuckled, enjoying your fearful expression. “Relax. Pleasure will soon consume you.” The fingers began to slowly move in and out, rubbing against your wet walls. You gasped, toes slightly curled as something weird began to burrow in your belly.

His thumb rubbed against your clit, causing you to cry out. That seemed to be your weakness. For the next few minutes, he slowly teased your cunt open, occasionally rubbing your clit. Your body stopped thrashing but you couldn’t help but arch your back, biting your lip as screams threatened to live your throat.

“eeeeh…pee..pee..!” You cried out, tears welling in your eyes. Sukuna’s fingers didn’t stop, instead they continued. Even as you continued to cry that you were about to piss, Sukuna only laughed.

Your cunt clamped tightly around his fingers as you felt your body spasm. A moan left your throat as something washed over you. You felt…good?

What was this? Why did you feel so sleepy?

With what little strength you had left, you grabbed your Wakizashi and held it against his chest, glaring up at him. Sukuna released your legs and grabbed your hand, simply having to squeeze it to have you release the Wakizashi.

You felt too sluggish to actually put up a fight.

“You orgasm but still have the energy to use a weapon.” He laughed to himself. “You truly are interesting.”

He stood up and walked away, leaving you on the floor, legs spread open.

Just…. What the fuck was that?

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

Orgasm.

It was an orgasm.

And Sukuna had been giving it to you constantly.

He appeared more frequently at the minka. He grabbed you whenever he pleased, even if Uraume was in the area. Spreading your thighs as he fingered your heat. He would sometimes squeeze your breasts, always commenting that it was his favorite body part of yours.

You were even forbidden from wearing underwear.

Easy access, apparently.

Uraume didn’t seem to comment or care about this new development. They simply helped you bathe whenever you were too tired. You still had your occasional lesson on speech and offense but you weren’t making much progress.

But somehow, the crazy murder, Uraume was encouraging. Believing it was just difficult for you to let go of old habits, especially in speech. You still couldn’t believe that they were a ruthless killer by how nicely they treated you.

It had been close to a year now.

You still thought about your clan. The massacre that happened right in front of you. But you couldn’t mourn them. Not after how they treated you. Such cruelty.

Sukuna and Uraume treated you like a male.

How could monsters treat you so well but not your own family?

There were days Uraume and Sukuna were gone. Those days you knew they were killing some other clan. Killing any sorcerers that dared stumble onto their path. But you never ran away.

Despite the amount of times you could.

You just never did.

Your fingers traced against Sukuna’s shrine, making sure there was no dust collecting on it. This was one of the rare occasions you were in his domain. But there were other sorcerers here—they were on their knees, pleading for their life.

You didn’t look at them at all, not wanting to be reminded of their humanity. To be reminded that Sukuna was a ruthless killer. That you were lucky you could stand near him and not fear death.

“(Name).”

You glanced up, looking over to see Sukuna motion for you to come over. Your bare feet pattered against the dark water as you went over to him, standing up straight as you waited for whatever he could want.

“Sit.”

When you moved to kneel, Sukuna grabbed your arm and pulled you onto his lap. You cried out, feeling your body freeze at the sudden closeness. You’ve never been so close to him. Being able to feel his breathing. The slow swell of his chest.

He began speaking to the sorcerers again but you didn’t pay attention. Hypnotized by this new position. Your hand slowly rested against his chest, your head leaning on his shoulder. You looked so small against him.

You couldn’t help but sniff the air, wondering if he had a scent.

He didn’t.

You stayed on his lap for a moment, wondering if he had just wanted you to cuddle him but you felt something twitching against your crotch. It was thick. Being strained by his robes. You wondered if it was just his knee but it kept twitching.

It was strange. It pressed against your cunt, earning a whimper from you. You had gotten so sensitive down there, easily orgasming when Sukuna touched you.

There was a tug at your robes as it was pulled down, causing you to gasp. Your breasts plopped out but you quickly covered them. It was luck that you had your back facing the sorcerers. Though they seemed to have stopped talking—only their soft whimpering and cries heard.

Sukuna didn’t say a word as he pulled open his own robe, two cocks springing free. You stared at it in shock. You’d never seen anything like it. It’d been years since you saw male genitalia. Did all males have two? That seemed a bit much.

You were glad you didn’t have any. It looked to be a pain to have to walk with something so huge between your legs. They pressed against your pussy—teasing your entrance. You backed away a little, only to have Sukuna grip your waist with his two lower hands.

“I trained you for this.” He simply said before turning his attention back to the pitiful sorcerers.

Training?

That training was for this?

Is that even safe?

You felt nervous. That… thing was supposed to go inside you? It wouldn’t kill you? You slowly sat up, hesitantly hovering over his cocks. The thought of putting two in so quickly, you didn’t think you could handle it. So you settled for one at a time.

The bottom cock slowly nestled inside your cunt as you eased it inside. It wasn’t painful but you didn’t like the feeling. It was odd, different than Sukuna’s fingers. His hands squeezed your waist once you finally bottomed out.

You glanced up, seeing his eyebrow raised. It was easy to tell that he was amused you could only fit one. You pouted, burying your face in his chest. He couldn’t blame you. You didn’t even know cocks could go inside a person! How could you fit two in the first try.

His second cock rested against your tummy. It looked a bit dejected. You kinda felt bad.

Sukuna and the sorcerers continued their conversation. You couldn’t pay it much attention. Your pussy clenching tightly around his cock. Your fingers clutched at his robe as you took deep breaths, beginning to feel weird with the thick cock spreading you full.

The sound of someone screaming caught your attention, but when you made the effort to turn around, Sukuna kept you still. He pushed you to rest against his chest, face smushed against his shoulder.

Someone was killed.

It was silent for a few more minutes before the remaining sorcerers began to speak about festivals they would hold in Sukuna’s honor. Sukuna’s cock twitched inside you. Huh, he must find that arousing.

Your eyes fluttered, sleep almost taking you over until Sukuna’s hands tightened around your waist. You felt your body be lift up until he slammed you back down. Your back arched as you screamed out.

The pain of the sudden movement somehow made you feel good. He bounced you on his cock as if you were nothing but a plaything. His grunts filling the domain. You were so happy he couldn’t see the sorcerers eyes on you, watching as you were used by the King of Curses for his own personal pleasure.

The thought of anyone in your clan knowing too brought fear inside your heart.

Any sort of pleasure you were feeling left. Your eyes fluttered closed as you just allowed Sukuna to take whatever he pleased. The reality of your situation had hit. You were nothing.

A toy for Sukuna.

Pitiful.

You were fucking pitiful.

Something warm erupted inside your heat, coating your walls. You let out a shuddered gasp, unable to ignore the small amount of pleasure that brought you. There was something white coating your tummy from his second cock.

Was this sperm?

It didn’t matter.

You couldn’t live like this anymore.

You proved your father right.

You were only good for one thing.

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

Wakizashi.

The Wakizashi was smaller than a katana, bigger than a dagger. A weapon civilians could carry around safely.

A weapon many used in suicide.

It was midnight. The moon shining down at you. You stood deep in the forest, bare feet touching the soft grass. You always loved the beauty of nature. The one thing that couldn’t be tainted.

You wore the female kimono you were forced to wear in the Toh. Despite the trauma, you still held the kimono close to you. It was made by your mother.

Your Wakizashi was held tightly in your hand. Its sharp blade glistening in the pale moonlight. You slowly widen your stance, arms gently moving into position as you whispered those faithful words.

“Domain Expansion: Midnight Paradise.”

The paradise soon engulfed you. The familiar spider lilies blooming around you. Sakura petals fluttering from the makeshift sky. It was peaceful.

The ground, however, was dark water.

You’d never done that before. Sukuna must’ve rubbed off on you. A bitter laugh left you. You really allowed a curse to take you—allowing it to plant itself into your heart.

The Wakizashi felt heavy in your grip. Even as you placed the blade against your neck, your hand shook. It rattled in your hand as tears streamed down your face. You didn’t even know why you were hesitating. Sukuna didn’t like you.

He used you for pleasure—he said it himself.

You were simply doing him a favor.

Your grip tightened as you sighed. It would be okay. This is what you always wanted.

Maybe, you’ll be born to a happy family.

The blade cut clean through your throat, blood oozing out. You dropped the Wakizashi as you collapsed. Your eyes fluttered closed as you accepted your death.

Only for you to realize you weren’t bleeding anymore.

You reached up and touched your throat, feeling a scaring instead of the open wound. It… healed?!

“Domain Expansion: Malevolent Shrine.”

“You humans are amusing.” The calming paradise bursts—Sukuna’s shrine appearing in front of you. The spider lilies stayed, curling around you as if it was comforting you. “You seem to have forgotten you belong to me.”

Sukuna appeared on the throne, staring you down with a glare. “I choose when you die. I will grant you the freedom of death. Now, come here.”

You slowly sat up, staring at him in shock. You had so many questions. How? Why? What did he do to make you live?

“Come here. Now.” He said, his tone stern. You stood up on shaky legs, slowly walking over to him. His body seemed larger than before. His eyes narrowing at every movement you took.

Sukuna grabbed your kimono as soon as you were close enough and tore it open. It ripped to shreds, falling to your feet in minutes. You held back your tears, keeping your eyes on the ground.

“(Name), you will look me in the eye when I speak to you.”

You glanced up, feeling your body hiccup as your tears began to flow. Sukuna simply stared at you, his eyes roaming your nude body. He stood up and gripped your face, moving your face upwards.

You expected anger. His cruelty to show for your actions. But his thumb gently traced the scaring across your face. It was from the whipping back then. It was jaggeder, covering your left eye to your right cheek. It was pure luck that you could even see from that eye.

“This body,” his hands trail down to your throat, tracing your new scar across your throat, “isn’t yours anymore. It’s mine. If you wish to die so badly it’ll be my hands.”

His grip tightened, causing you to gasp, your hands clutching at his arm. He stared you down, eyes showing no sign of any heart. But he didn’t strangle you. He moved down, grasping your right breast.

“Humans are insignificant. You should be grateful that I keep you alive. Your only purpose is to please me.” He pushed you into the ground as you gasped out, staring up at him as he kneeled down, tearing off his own robes.

You parted your legs, not even attempting to fight back. But you didn’t want to fight back. You wanted him.

Sukuna smirked. “Some man you are. Whoring yourself so easily.”

“itsokay…becauseits…Sukuna…” You whispered, giving him a soft smile through your tears. Sukuna froze for a moment, staring down at you as he grunted in anger. His hands gripped your waist and pulled you close, rubbing his cocks against your pussy.

“You know your place now?”

“Mmmmh. Sukuna’s…”

Sukuna chuckled, his lips slightly tugging into a smile. It was odd. You felt safe in his presence. The dark thoughts swirling in your brain felt like nonsense when you were near him. But you didn’t know why.

It felt counterintuitive to feel safe in the arms of a man that committed a massacre.

His degradation felt like care. He used a technique to save you.

He must care about you.

Even if the way he showed it was cruel.

Perhaps you weren’t mentally sane.

More than likely.

You reached over, grasping two of Sukuna’s hands and bringing it to your breasts. He easily squeezed them both, pulling at your nipples. A shuddered breath left your lips as you whimpered.

“You must be punished—for damaging my possession.” You feel his cocks teasing your pussy. There was no getting out of it. You’ll be taking both at the same time.

Slowly, inch by inch, his two cocks sinked into your pussy. It was painful—nothing you could have ever imagine. Your breathing shuddered, hands gripping at his shoulder for some form of relief.

How could anyone like this?

Two of his hands gripped your breasts while the other two held your waist down, keeping you still. You wanted to thrash around, pull away due to the pain but he was too strong. But even though it was so painful, your cunt clenched around his cocks.

Your hands moved downwards, tracing his abs as you giggled to yourself. Being so close to him, you could finally take a good look at him.

The black markings all over his body. The second face. His four large arms.

He looked better in the moonlight.

Your hand moved away from his chest, reaching over to grab your Wakizashi. With a swiftness, one of Sukuna’s hands grabbed your wrist.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“Wakizashi.”

You managed to pull your wrist away and grab the Wakizashi. You used your other hand to grab one of his and place it over the other gripping the Wakizashi. Sukuna’s eyes stayed on you, his eyebrows raising as he watched you with curiosity.

“Myheart…and….Wakizashi…belongto…Sukuna…Ryomen.”

A childish grin spread on your lips as you leaned up and gently kissed Sukuna’s hand that gripped yours. You looked up, unsure if Sukuna understood you. He seemed to have trouble understanding your form of speech.

But the look he gave you was scary. It was as if he was angry but also… lustful?

He released his grip on your hand and reached up, grabbing the back of your head as he smashed his lips onto yours. Your eyes widen, your hand releasing the Wakizashi. It clattered onto the floor before being pushed away by Sukuna.

You didn’t know curses could kiss.

You never thought a curse would be your first kiss.

But you eagerly kissed back, wrapping your arms around his neck. He manhandled you to lay back down your back as two hands lifted your legs. You almost forgot all about his cocks inside of you.

His hips moved back before slamming forward, causing your body to jostle from the force. You screamed out, nails beginning to claw at his back as he took you.

The sounds of skin slapping and your stuttered moaning filled the domain. Sukuna’s cocks stretched you full, reaching so deep inside you worried he’d spilt you open. You glanced down, seeing the soft tell sign of something bulging against your stomach.

From the inside…

Was that his cock?

Curses were insane.

It didn’t take long for you to reach your orgasm, your cunt clamping tightly around his cocks. But he didn’t let up, using you like a sex toy. Though it didn’t bother you this time—you liked it.

Sukuna’s hips slammed into you as the warm sperm began to coat your inner walls. That was fast.

You glanced up at Sukuna to see him looking away, as if he was also shocked he came that fast. A cocky grin appeared on your lips as you giggled, pressing kisses on Sukuna’s cheek.

“Wasi…thatgood?” You asked, looking up at him with eyes that resembled a puppy. Sukuna didn’t answer, simply pulling away from you despite your whines.

“I’m hungry. Go tell Uraume to cook me a meal.” Sukuna bluntly said, standing up as he slipped back into his robes. You simply wrapped an arm around your chest and clamped your legs closed for decency.

You reached over to grab your Wakizashi when it was quickly taken from you. Your eyes nervously turned over to Sukuna, watching as he lazily flipped the weapon before hiding it in his robe.

“Uhm….my…”

He smirked, “did you not say that it belongs to me now?”

You frowned. Well now you regretted that.

“You’ll earn it once you learn your place. Now go.” His eyes trailed down to the new scar on your throat. You could never tell what Sukuna was feeling but you could’ve sworn he seemed… upset at the sight. But his face quickly became neutral as he walked back to his shrine, sitting down and getting comfortable.

Your fingers gently traced the scaring on your throat. You’ve never seen the technique Sukuna used. It wasn’t something anyone taught you. But it must’ve been a strong one.

And he used it to save you.

Was that….

Love? ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

You haven’t gotten your Wakizashi back.

Sukuna would occasionally taunt you with it, threatening to snap it in half. But he never did. He seemed to enjoy your panicked responses.

He kept it close though. It was always tucked inside his robe. You wondered if he ever used it when he went on his sorcerer killing sprees. Not that he’d ever need to. He could kill towns in minutes.

But it felt nice to have him hold it.

Your speech was still terrible. Uraume was the only person who could understand you, especially when you spoke longer sentences.

“Andi…sawthe…bunnyrush…awaytothe…burrow..! Butigrabbed…thecarrots…itstole!”

“You should’ve killed the bunny.” Uraume responded, handing you a bowl of miso soup. They gave Sukuna a plate that looked to be human meat. You had gotten used to ignoring the smell.

Sukuna stared at you from across the table. “The bunny ran where?”

“Theburrow.”

“Uraume, I thought you were teaching him to speak clearly,” Sukuna said. Uraume shrugged as they sat down beside you.

“Teaching takes time. (Name) is twenty two, it’s harder to change habits by this age.”

It practically became a habit for you to constantly repeat yourself when speaking to Sukuna. Other times he’d tell you to stop speaking. He was still rude and a bit cruel.

But he certainly changed. Judging by the fact he’d occasionally kiss you. Though it wasn’t soft and romantic kisses. Most kisses would leave you breathless with bruised lips.

He still took you whenever he pleased. Having you ride him in front of people. That was still embarrassing. But you learned to live with it.

You were sitting outside, the moon shining down at you as you slowly weaved a bracelet with flower stems. There were three others scattered beside you, dawned with small chrysanthemums decorating them.

The thin robe you wore hardly covered you properly causing you to shiver at a particular rush of cool breeze. You grinned, holding the finished bracelet in triumph. They were larger than your wrists, having been made as large as possible.

As you grabbed the other three, two hands grasped your breasts, harshly squeezing them. You gasped, almost dropping the bracelets as you looked back to see Sukuna. He used his other two hands to lift you up, just as his domain opened around you both.

He sat at his shrine, settling you onto his lap. His hands pulled your robe off as you clutched the bracelets tightly, making sure to not accidentally drop them.

One of his hands trailed between your legs, easily teasing your pussy. You shivered, resting your head on his chest as he slowly teased you open. His large fingers slipped inside your cunt, stretching you out.

“Sukuna…” You mewled. “Gotyoupresent…”

You felt the loud reverberation of his grunt through his chest. It was somehow comforting that he had such human bodily autonomy. Your hands slowly opened, holding them up for him to see. Four brackets with red and white chrysanthemums in the center of the flower stems.

Sukuna grabbed one of them, examining it as his finger continued to stretch you open. He chuckled slightly, placing it back into your palms.

“I don’t need gifts from you.” He said, earning a frown from you. Your lips parted as you tried to argue back only for him to lean down and nip at your lips, kissing you with as much softness as he could possibly muster.

“I already own you.”

Your breathing hitched, staring up at him in shock. You eagerly kissed him back—moaning as he began to feverishly finger you open.

“Takeme…please.” You whispered, placing the brackets onto the ground as you moved to properly straddle him. Your hand pulled his robe open, allowing his cock to freely press against your thigh.

You shyly grinned, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Useme…Sukuna Ryomen.”

Sukuna smirked, two of his hands instantly gripping your hips. “You don’t get to complain later.” He said before slamming you down onto his cock. You screamed out, the painful stretch bringing you a pleasure that you had learned to love.

He bounced you up and down on his cock with reckless abandon. Your sweet, high pitched cries being music to his ears. The sight of you was intoxicating. Your breasts bouncing in tandem with his thrusts—your cunt clenching around his cocks like a vice.

And to think… he was going to kill you that day.

He would’ve missed out on such great pussy.

Whatever he felt for you, he wasn’t sure. But what he did know was that he loved fucking you.

His hand reached down, kneading your ass. He leaned over and began to suckle on one of your nipples, earning a whine from you. You would always end up cumming more than twice, the least.

His name left your lips like a prayer, your nails digging into his shoulder as you wailed out.

You reached your first orgasm in minutes. He could always tell whenever you did. Your nose would scrunch up, lips curling into a frown, as your body began to stiffen. Your cunt would always tighten as well, practically begging him to fuck his cum into you.

The effect you had on him was different. He could last longer with random woman he found but with you… He always found himself releasing faster.

He bit down on your nipple, causing you to shriek at the pain. Despite the cries and whimpers you gave whenever he would intentionally hurt you. Twist a nipple too hard. Spank your ass a bit too red. You would always come back for more.

Fuck… just what have you done to him?

He pulled away from your breasts and pulled you closer, claiming your lips with anger. You helplessly kissed back—unable to really take any sort of control in the kiss.

You pulled away from the kiss to breathe, hiccuping as you nuzzled your face into his neck. He continued to bounce you on his cocks, getting you closer to your second orgasm.

It was unreal. To be so connected to a curse. The King of Curses no less.

You felt the quick swelling of his cocks, indicating he was about to cum. Your cunt tightened as much as it could, earning an animalistic grunt. He began to use you with no regard whatsoever to the bruising his grip left on your body.

He slammed into you just as his cocks began to cum deep inside you. You pulled him close to give him a kiss, reaching your own orgasm.

You didn’t know if what you felt for Sukuna was love. But you certainly didn’t want to live without him.

It’s a shame this would be the last day you saw him.

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

It was interesting to see Japan grow so much.

You didn't know that you would’ve been alive for so long. To not age at all. It was a blessing and a curse. You certainly stopped getting to know people, tired of seeing them grow old in age or even die by unfortunate events.

You would occasionally see how the sorcerers were doing. But you never got close—knowing you were technically a betrayer. Uraume was still with you though they would occasionally disappear to meet a man named Kenjaku.

Other curses still disgusted you so you never made any effort to speak to them like Uraume did. They kept speaking as if they could bring back Sukuna but you didn’t really believe it.

No, it was more so you didn’t think it would be a great idea. You’d lived longer than you’d been with Sukuna at this point. And while you still love him, you knew deep down humans were doomed if he were to come back.

The soft breeze gently flew past as you sat in the woods. Moonlight shining down on you as you moved to lay down.

Something felt off, but you had pushed the feeling away. Being able to live for so long should’ve been a blessing though you would occasionally wish to die.

But you never got your Wakizashi back. You assumed Sukuna died with it.

You didn’t know if that made you feel better or not.

People were nice. Many calling you a man. It was like a dream come true.

It was like two sides fought inside of you.

The need to protect human lives.

The want to kiss and hug Sukuna.

Why couldn’t you have fallen in love with someone normal?

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

“You shouldn’t come to Shibuya tonight.”

The soft hums of the television almost entirely drowned out Uraume’s voice. You looked over at them, watching as they grabbed something from the closet. Shibuya?

“I haven’t been to Shibuya in a while.” You said, glancing back at the tv. Your style of speech was more coherent after centuries of practice. Though you would sometimes revert back when emotional.

“Why? Is something going to happen in Shibuya?”

Uraume simply hummed. “Could your body handle Sukuna today?”

You got up from the couch and walked over to Uraume. “Hm? Handle him?” Your hands rested against the countertop of the kitchen as you thought for a moment. “No. I haven’t had sex in centuries. I’m a virgin again.”

You giggled at your own joke while Uraume rolled their eyes.

They turned over to you, their eyes trailing over your body. “Your chest is bigger.”

You glanced down at your chest before glaring at them. “I just gained weight.”

“That’s a good thing.” They patted you on the back. “Bigger is better. I’ll be back.”

You mutely waved as Uraume left, humming to yourself. Bigger is better? You were pretty sure you had seen porn ads with that as a slogan. But there was a weird feeling your tummy. Why did Uraume suddenly ask you about Sukuna?

It been forever. Did they….

No. You pushed the thought away. You’d become a stuttering mess if Sukuna appeared in front of you.

But you were sure you’d kill him.

Just for leaving you.

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

“You’re okay keeping your face like that?”

“For now. If I’m going to be fighting amongst sorcerers, it’s better to maintain this kind of appearance.”

…..

“Where is he?”

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

Uraume hasn’t been back for a while now. You didn’t get too worried, they had a habit of doing so. It mainly worried you that things seemed off. A massacre happened in Shibuya.

It felt too similar to his work.

You shrugged it off, knowing just how difficult to was to reincarnate Sukuna.

But what if…

You groaned in frustration. You needed to go visit the forest. Your favorite forest was all over the place. You would always change it whenever you felt tired of another. This forest was beautiful with a large crystal blue lake.

Small baby ducks floated about while its mother watched. You sat down right next to the lake, putting your feet in it for some cool water against your skin.

The pale moonlight shunned down on you, always being a comforting blanket. It would always calm you down. Your legs slowly treaded through the water, sending small waves to the ducks.

A giggle escaped your lips as you watched the baby ducks scatter at the sudden movement.

You leaned over and stared at your reflection, gently poking it with your index finger. Soft ripples carried across the lake.

Your mind began to blank as you yawned. The ease of distractions began to push away any worry you had before. Until you felt… something was off.

The forest was silent. No more soft rustle of the wind. Crickets. Birds. Even the ducks on the water were long gone. Something was wrong.

You slipped out of the water, glancing around. You slowly stood up and tried to ignore your own wishes for your Wakizashi. You’d get through without it.

But nothing happened. It was still—nothing came out and attacked you. You shook your head, scratching at your scalp as you turned back to face the lake.

“Domain Expansion: Malevolent Shrine.”

Those words.

That voice.

The familiar black water pooled your bare feet. The same shrine covered in human skulls. The memories of cleaning it. Sitting on Sukuna’s lap while he taunted helpless sorcerers.

Spider lilies began to bloom around you, forming a circle. The moon was still shining down on you. You didn’t want to turn around. In fear of just how you’d react to seeing him.

Would he look the same? Did he still like you?

Did he ever like you?

You felt young again. The young and naive (Name) rushing back in. Who couldn’t speak properly. Who couldn’t fight to save his life.

Two hands suddenly appeared from behind you and spun you around.

He was still taller than you. His markings still all over his body. But his hair was black this time. He didn’t have two arms either. You almost didn’t believe it was him until a smirk spread on his lips.

Yeah… that’s your Sukuna.

Your body felt stiff as you slowly stepped forward before leaping into his arms. His arms immediately wrapped around your waist, holding you close as you began to wail. Your hands gripped at his body—making sure this wasn’t a dream.

He was real. He was real.

“You’ve missed me, huh?” He teased, his hand trailing downwards to grip your hips. His thumbs sinked into your skin as if he was now checking if you were real too.

“Mhm….missedsukuna…solonely…” You whined, cursing when you noticed you couldn’t speak properly anymore. Now that was just embarrassing.

You continued hugging him, leaning in as close as humanly possible. Your hands gripping at his shoulders while you buried your face in his neck.

You really did betray your clan, cuddling with the murderer.

A sudden squeeze at your breasts caught your attention. You pulled away a bit to see Sukuna squeezing both of your breasts together. He smirked, his thumbs rubbing against your nipples through the shirt.

“They’re bigger.”

You glared at him. “Stopit. Youcanttouch…meuntil…iget…Wakizashi!” Sukuna rolled his eyes but complied, pulling away as he reached into his robes. Slowly, he pulled out your Wakizashi. Its gold sheath somehow still shining proudly.

Your hands practically snatched it away from him as you held it in the air, letting the moonlight shine down on it.

As beautiful as you remembered.

It looked recently cleaned. You glanced back at Sukuna, biting your lip. He kept it safe. He kept your Wakizashi safe.

Which meant…

He kept your heart safe.

“Do I get a reward for keeping that pathetic excuse of a weapon safe?” Sukuna asked, crossing his arms across his chest. Despite his words, you knew he took its protection seriously.

You mutely nodded. “Didn’t….sleepwith…anyone. Not since…youwere…gone.” You slowly placed the weapon on the floor as you stepped over to Sukuna.

“Kept myself just for you.” You managed to say before looking down in embarrassment. “Istill…belong…to…sukunaryomen.”

A grip on your chin caused you to flinch as he forced you to look up at him. Sukuna stared down at you, his eyes roaming your face. The same whip scaring on your face almost gone in its entirety. The scar on your neck completely faded.

“I see I have to remind you of the rules.” He said, forcefully tutting your head around as he continued to look at you. “Let’s sey that cunt of yours can handle me.”

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

You missed this. His fingers thrusting into your pussy as he stretched you. Roughly kneading your breast with his free hand. It was weird being only touched by two hands—you couldn’t wait until he got his normal body.

Your back arched, soft mewls leaving your lips. You were fully nude, sat atop of Sukuna’s lap as he sat on his throne. Your cunt was tight. You really haven’t touched yourself ever since Sukuna left.

“Were you waiting for me?” Sukuna suddenly asked, his thumb teasing your clit as you whimpered. “Waiting to be used as my whore again?”

“Nghhh…”

“I was waiting to fuck this pussy again.” He slowly spread your pussy open. “Squeezing your tits. All I had was that fucking Wakizashi of yours.” He muttered bitterly, slamming his fingers deep into your cunt. You cried out, your hips moving upward as you tried to catch your breath.

He didn’t care that it had been centuries since you had sex. He seemed to enjoy that you were so loyal to him that you practiced celibacy.

“You’re lucky I need to feel your pussy around my cock—you deserve a punishment for not fulfilling your duties.” He pulled open his robe, his cock springing out. Your shuddered, feeling it rub against your pussy.

“What…duties…?” You whispered.

Sukuna harshly squeezed your breast, pulling at the nipple. You cried out in pain—your body squirming in his grip as his cock began teasing your pussy.

“You must’ve forgotten your place.” He whispered into your ear. “No matter, I’ll remind you of it.”

His cock slammed into your pussy, ignoring your scream of pain. He was harsh and unforgiving. Your body spasmed as it tried to get used to the harsh thrusting. It’d been so long, you already felt yourself feel close to an orgasm.

Sukuna’s hands gripped your thighs, pulling them upward as he thrusted into your tight cunt. The sound of skin slapping and your stuttered moaning filled the domain.

Despite the pain, you couldn’t help the slight smile on your lips. You missed being used like a toy for his pleasure. A groan left you as your pussy clenched around his cock. Even as you orgasmed, Sukuna didn’t let you, using you to reach his own.

You felt his cock suddenly pulsate in you as warm cum filled your insides. A shuddered moan left your lips. You almost forgot just how warm sperm could be.

But you began to feel yourself being moved up and down. His hands moved to grip your waist, easily bouncing you on his cock. The overstimulation instantly caused you discomfort but your whines fell on deaf ears.

“I’ve been without your cunt for centuries.” He said, grunting as you clenched around his cock. Your hands gripped at his thighs. You couldn’t hold back your moans, they were on the verge of screams. It was so much for what was essentially your first time.

Sukuna grabbed a fistful of your hair and pulled your head back, smashing his lips into yours. You eagerly kissed back. The kiss reminded you of all the past ones. The bites on your lips. The feeling as if he was stealing your breath away.

As you pulled away, he gave you a lustful smirk.

“I intend to make up for lost time.”

You weren’t going to be able to walk for years.

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

wowowo….my first fic at 10k words…. Jesus! I hope I did Sukuna justice <3

tag list: @the-ultimate-librarian @chill-guy-but-cooler @iwishtobeacrow @tehyunnie @flurrina @mello-life69 @ofclyde @smellwell @tomoeroi @remdayz @rhetorical-conscience @love-kha1 @star-3214 @kiiyoooo @ac3ifix

#bottom male reader #x male reader #sub male reader #uke male reader #mlm ns/fw #sukuna x male reader #sukuna #sukuna x reader #jjk sukuna #jjk x male reader #ftm mlm #mlm nsft

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peggyao3 · 9 days ago

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Crossfade

PAIRING: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x f!Reader x Benny Cross

SUMMARY: Benny comes home after a week on the road and has things to make up for, to his brother Feyd-Rautha and their sweetheart.

TAGS: AFAB she/her reader, no use of y/n, third person POV, threesome - F/M/M, explicit sexual content, penis in vagina sex, oral sex, anal fingering/sex (f receiving), double creampie, overstimulation, spit kink, slight degradation kink, touch of breeding kink, dirty talk, pet names, manhandling, filthy & messy, twincest/selfcest, brotherly rivalry, dirty stray puppy benny, domestic cat feyd, porn with minimal plot

WORD COUNT: 4k

A/N: Frothing at the mouth, barking at the moon, moaning like a slut, I've been wanting to write this for ages and here it isss 🥹❤️ (after blueballing @sebastianswallows with it for like four months asdfg)

Ao3 | Masterlist 🖤

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

"Look what the cat dragged in. If it isn't my lost brother who has come home to have his laundry done."

The embers of a late summer day still cling to Benny's hair and jacket as he glowers at the scene before him — His twin brother sprawled out on the king-sized bed, big enough to fit three people, legs propped up and spread apart so that the first thing that Benny was forced to see when he walked in was Feyd-Rautha's cock filling out their sweetheart's pussy from root to tip.

She's on his chest, her legs raised and held apart by veined, pale hands, tits bouncing with each obscene upwards thrust, lungs fighting for enough air to formulate a greeting as Feyd carves her insides out. The creaking of the slatted frame is unhealthy sounding, dark wood slamming against the tapestry, the ever same spots crumbling under the force of the bed posts. The cotton sheets are rumpled under their bodies.

"And you've grown into a fully domesticated house cat?" Benny grits his teeth and throws his gloves on the chair, annoyed to find both armrests occupied by Feyd's shit. Who wears a fucking dressing gown at home anyway.

"One of us has to stay home to take care of our poor darling. We don't want her to feel neglected and leave us, do we, brother?"

Benny clenches his jaws and glares. He does not want that.

"I wasn't gone that long." The blonde man squares his shoulders, cheek and forehead still streaked with residue exhaust gases and dirt from the road.

"It's been over a week," Feyd coos promptly, his voice like rattling chains, being calmly dragged across jagged stone. "And you didn't come across a single payphone during your adventures."

Coming home is never not an aching duality. Guilt burns in his guts, a bitter taste at the back of his throat. He always waits for their darling to raise her voice and kick him back out on the street, but she never does. Benny's chest grows lighter, young heart pitter-pattering against his ribs.

Coming home is also like getting candy at a carnival. It never stops being exciting when he wraps his hand around a bag of treats, and he will always moan when the cotton candy melts on his tongue.

"D-Don't provoke him," their darling finally gasps, trying to heave herself into a sitting position on Feyd's abdomen. She might as well have tried to sit still on a Bucking Bronco. The jerky undulations of his pelvis thrust her right backwards, spine colliding with the hard velvet planes of his chest again. Unyielding hands spread her knees that bit further back, tugging her to the sweet edge of discomfort.

"I should have known you would side with him, sweetling," Feyd purrs and Benny catches a glimpse of his brother's ink black canines and incisors that give him the guise of a hissing serpent. "I've been playing far too nice with you lately."

"I'm not siding with anyone, I'm just - ahhh - glad he isn't dead. G-God, Feyd, can you slow down?" Her head lolls sideways, nose and lips sliding against the cords of his neck as her chin settles in the hollow above his clavicle.

"Contrary to other people in this room, I take pleasuring you very seriously, so be a good darling now, yes?" Feyd is by no means done with this demonstration that has Benny’s aching hard-on pressing against his battered jeans. He's a fucking idiot for for being away from home and missing out on this — and leaving her in the care of his psychotic brother for so long.

"I'm sorry," the blonde man grits out, blue puppy eyes framed by long lashes. He's so ridiculously pretty, Feyd has always hated him for that.

"Make yourself useful, brother. You have something to make up for."

Benny doesn't even slip his boots or jacket off before climbing onto the bed like a dog whistled to heel. Leather creaks and the sharp smell of gasoline and cigarettes melts into the heady bouquet of sex, sweat and perfume. The mattress dips under the added weight and soot-stained hands glide over their sweetheart's jiggling ass, pinning her down against Feyd's hard abdomen and hip bones. Calloused thumbs tug her labia apart and his entire torso is forced to move along with his brother's unrelenting lesson to make him jealous.

"There you go," Feyd coos when their darling moans out, pussy clenching like a vise around his pale, milky shaft as soon as Benny's plush lips wrap around her swollen, little nub.

That's what makes it so great to share her, they all get something out of it.

Benny grunts his wordless apology, hot breath puffing out of his nostrils while his tongue gets to work, feasting on the sweet juice of homecoming. Benny is always so eager when he has his face stuffed between her legs, blue eyes begging for forgiveness as if he thinks he hardly deserves to be here in the first place. She can never stay mad at him for long even though she's sworn she will, god knows how many times.

The aching pressure of Feyd's thick cock sinks into her navel and her channel grows tight, every nerve end prickling overwhelmingly, lit by a match that only burns when both of them have their cocks and mouths on or in her.

The strength of two men holds down her squirming thighs and she can only throw her head from left to right, tear on Benny's curls or scratch Feyd-Rautha's hard flank bloody, but nothing can stop the white-hot orgasm from careening up to her.

The truth is, she can't climax so easily when she's worried and worry eats at her most of the time when Benny is away. She feels sorry for making Feyd work so hard for it when he's on his own, sorry to be cumming so fast now when Benny has only had his lips on her for a minute.

Moan after moan bubbles from her throat like beads off a snapped string and her convulsing body bears down on the man below her, hips bucking against the face of the man above her. Feyd-Rautha chuckles, calls her a filthy toy and the crude words prolong her climax for painful seconds. She feels wetness against her cheek and has to claw her way back out of the quivering daze to realize it's neither sweat nor tears, it's Feyd's tongue licking a stripe from her cheek to her temple.

Benny feels the pulsing of her cunt under his tongue, the contractions of her muscles radiating all the way to her swollen clit, and that's all he gets for now. Jealously, he peeks down at his brother's balls and cock, sheathed and snuggled and milked by their darling's squishy cunt. Or — about to be milked. His twin brother has an obscene amount of stamina when he wants to, probably because pain gets him going and nothing hurts like being edged.

Benny's jeans strangle him while he helplessly ruts against the sheets, like a mutt in heat that they had scraped off the road. He has far less self-restraint. His leather suffocates him and perspiration glues his shirt to his back, but he wouldn't take his lips off their darling's perfect little cunt even if a gun was held to his head.

The thick base of Feyd's cock slides repeatedly against Benny's chin. Spit drips out of the biker's pink mouth and down the coarse beard stubble which leaves Feyd's pale shaft with a prickling rash from the bristly friction. The fair-skinned brother hisses, muscles tensing in his glutes as he slams upwards.

Benny has something to make for to both of them.

One calloused palm remains on her thigh, the other slides to his brother's, hard fingertips kneading into white, smooth flesh. Feyd snarls, thrusts growing short and pointed, punching breathless yelps out of their toy's throat. Benny's hand then trails to Feyd-Rautha's smooth, hairless sac that bounces with each upwards slam. He flattens his palm against it and squeezes hard until Feyd hisses a curse in their mother tongue.

One never knows with Feyd-Rautha's fickle moods and Benny doesn't want to risk a blade against his neck. That's their darling's thing, not his. In truth, he only wants his brother to cum faster, so he can finally have his turn.

"Benny," Feyd-Rautha growls in warning and the blonde man removes his fingers, finding a more interesting target between the slick mess of slapping flesh.

"Benny!" Their darling yelps, feet kicking adorably in empty air.

"What's he doing, sweetling?"

"He's—"

"Playing with your cute little ass, isn't he? Well I can't stop him."

The biker's finger slides in deep and she's painfully aware, yet awfully indifferent, that he didn't wash his hands. His long, thick middle finger sinks down to the last knuckle and the cool metal of his ring bumps into her puckered muscles over and over. His pink mouth suckles messily on her clit, Feyd's cock pounds the air out of her lungs and her center twists itself so tight that the pleasure of it cramps up her entire lower half.

She climaxes once more with a wailed, inhuman sound, thrashing her head from left to right. This time, Benny can feel the contractions of her hole around his finger. He smirks stupidly against her pulsing clit as juice from her cunt drips over his dirty hand, giving him the means to wiggle a second, thick finger inside that cute little hole.

Her sweetly pain-stricken tone is what finally makes Feyd-Rautha cave into the milking contractions of her cunt that pull him in as if to secure his seed inside her womb. And who is he to deny her. While Benny is the dirty street dog in the relationship, Feyd regards himself as a sophisticated animal, relinquishing every drop of himself only with utmost control.

He holds himself firm against her cervix and the shivers of his peak roll down his pale, twitching muscles. Their sweetheart whines quietly against his throat with spit-wet lips, hands folded limply over her stuffed belly. Feyd's cock gives one last greedy twitch when Benny's tongue slides hotly over his balls, lapping at this leaking seed.

"Filthy dog, that's not for you," Feyd rasps but doesn't command his feral twin away.

Impatiently, one tan, broad hand sprawls across their darling's ass cheek and shoves. Her pliant body scoots up Feyd-Rautha's abdomen until his cock slips out, together with a filthy squelch and a rivulet of frothing cum. Two fingers are still working her tight little channel open, easier than ever with so much gushing lube.

"She's gonna need a third one for your cock," Feyd coos, a drowsy lilt to his severe tone, though his hands still keep her legs bent backwards and her cunt and ass on display like a homecoming buffet for his brother.

"You think so?" Benny's blue eyes twinkle trustfully in the lamplight. Without the crude soundscape of Feyd's hips shattering the slatted frame, the disheveled pair finally notice the needy rhythm of Benny's pelvis, grinding against the sheets as he waits his turn, a dog held back only by the collar and leash of guilt strangling his neck.

"On second thought, she doesn't. Get up here."

Get your part of the sweet fucking cherry pie.

Benny bounces upright like a whipcord and strips out of jacket and shirt. Sweat glistens on tan pectorals and a few beads have gotten caught in the sparse, blonde hair sprinkled across his chest and the trail down his taut abdomen. Her eyes follow the frantic movement of bruised fingers, unbuttoning his jeans and shoving them down just enough to free his flushed cock, jutting out from blonde, messy curls. It bobs obscenely and smacks on her abdomen as he crawls over her, already wrapping a fist around himself to angle the blunt tip to her slick, puckered hole.

"Y'smell like a rat died n'your armpits," she tries to joke, though her tongue feels like a sluggish thing, stuffed and forgotten in her mouth. Reaching up, she curls her palm gently around Benny's hard bicep and her hand shakes ridiculously. The boy smiles stupidly at the comment, proud of himself. Feyd snorts and takes pity on his twin. If he had a tail it would be wagging.

"You can have her cunt too, brother. I warmed her up for you. I know you like it warm and messy."

Even when they were kids, Benny was always the one who loved playing in the dirt. Wetting his cock with his brother's cum only makes him harder. It's just the rotten cream on top of his slice of sweet cherry pie.

"But I— Aahhh!" Her cute complaints are forced back into her lungs as the air is battered out of them. Her cunt is stretched well enough from Feyd's cock to take Benny's to the hilt in one smooth glide. He had probably expected more resistance and found none. The blunt, thick tip of him slams into her cervix, full force.

She hisses through her teeth, staked on the thick, hot lance of his cock. Without delay, he snaps into action, pulling back only to slam back in even quicker. He fucks like he rides — fast and with little care for damage, for the thrill and for the joy of it.

Benny eclipses the lamplight, caging her between his brother and himself. One palm braces himself against the mattress, the other slides softly over her cheek, neck and bouncing chest, happy to find her nipples standing pert against his calloused palm. His fingertips are so gentle, but his pace is not. Her cunt aches, yet pleasure blooms through the blunt, burning pain of being stretched out and used.

"Please, m'so sore." She would have almost preferred to be fucked in the other hole instead.

Feyd's hand curls around her neck, pressing her down against his shoulder. A gentle reminder that any escape attempt will be in vain and also punished.

"Did you hear that, our darling is sore," he purrs in gentle mockery.

"Yeah, I heard that," Benny grunts, blue eyes slipping over her pathetically disheveled face. "Is it too bad, babycakes? I can stop." He slows down, and the slower pace almost aches worse, reminding her every nerve of just how sore they are. It would take him great effort to stop, but it'd be a punishment he deserves.

"She can take it," Feyd purrs, fingers of the remaining hand tightening their grip on the back of her knee, holding her quivering thigh bent and open. "Don't disappoint my brother, sweetness, we've fucked you much worse."

"N-N-Now you're siding with him?"

"Of course, he's my brother. He's been saving up his cum all week. Didn't you, Benny?"

"I didn't cheat if that's what you're asking—hmmph!"

Feyd's hand has abandoned their darling's thigh and curled around his brother's hip, gripping him by the ass cheek just above the haphazardly shoved down jeans, encouraging him to go faster, harder.

"Oh, no, you wouldn't. I'd kill you if you did." Everyone in this room knows Feyd means it.

Encouraged, Benny ruts into their sweetheart's slick, squishy pussy, hard and hurried, taking advantage of the privilege as long as he has it, scared that his baby might kick him off any second. And she could, now that her legs are finally free from Feyd-Rautha's grasp.

But what she does is sling her shaky legs around his hips, heels scraping against the back pockets of his jeans, because she never wants him to leave again.

Feyd holds her steady by the neck, a nice little fuck toy for his brother. Their darling's calf lies over his hand on Benny's ass and his thumb strokes over her pulse. He'll know when it really gets too much for her. She just likes to complain, but at the end of the day, her squishy cunt can't stop weeping for their cocks and her little mouth can't stop drooling for them when they manhandle her and toss her around like a cute, little doll.

Her lungs quiver around the smell of sweat, cigarettes and testosterone, the perfect fucking scent to get high on and chuck the remainder of her brain into the trash. There's nothing to worry about when she's squished between two hard, virile bodies, caged by clenching biceps and twitching abdominal muscles, both of these bodies powered by the strength of their thick thighs and hard shoulders.

The only downside is that she can't catch a break with two of the same kind in her life, but the good thing is that she don't need to worry bout nothing when they're both in her bed, fucking her brain into gummy soup.

"Open, sweetness." Benny's thumb presses against her bottom lip and wriggles into her drooling mouth, tasting of cigarettes and tanginess. Her jaw falls down obediently and Benny grins before spitting on her pink tongue. "Now kiss my brother."

Feyd-Rautha chuckles. "How thoughtful of you."

His pillow-shaped lips descend on her open mouth, her sweaty neck still gently strangled by his palm. Black teeth sink into her upper lip before his mouth slants against hers diagonally, rolling his tongue against the sluggish thing in her mouth with gratuitous saliva. Moans and pitiful whimpers are swallowed by Feyd-Rautha's mouth while Benny's cock pistons into her with hard, slapping rhythm, jolting her body back and forth in the clamp of sweaty muscles.

Sticky flesh rehardens, pokes and twitches against the cleft of her ass. The plump head is nuzzled against Benny's ball sack. Feyd relishes her thunderous heartbeat under his palm, her pupils blown comically wide with fucked-out arousal and fear. She knew this was coming.

"He's already prepared you for me," Feyd coos, pressing wet teeth against the corner of her mouth. "Don't want his efforts to be in vain."

The two men shuffle for a moment and gruff hands pull on her flesh, tugging her in place just how they need her until Feyd finds the right angle to line himself up, evoking snarls and sharp nails in Benny's clenching back when the blunt head of his cock forces her slicked-up ring of muscles to spread open.

"Now, now, don't pretend this is too much. We all know there's enough room for both of us."

"It's alright, babycakes." Benny holds still, letting her pussy flutter meekly around the girth of him. His calloused hand captures her chin, thumb rubbing over the drool-glossy corner of her mouth. He looks so beautiful on top of her, blonde hair frazzled into a shattered lamplight halo.

She pouts at him, grunting when Feyd's cock sinks deeper inside with surprisingly slow, little thrusts. And then, when Benny starts moving again, her holes are stuffed so good, she might just implode around them and never have a single thought in her blanked-out little brain again.

"Ahhh, God, that's so—aaahh~"

"That's it, doll, that's how we like our sweet little thing," Feyd snarls, hand on her neck, arm slung around the small of Benny's twitching back. Benny grins, white teeth among blonde stubble, as if he hasn't been happier in his entire life.

And maybe he hasn't. In his untamable heart, living from sunset to sunset, every day is another adventure as prickling and brand new as the last.

The two of them find a filthy rhythm, viciously in sync like only twin brothers could be.

They are sunshine gold above, chalk white hills and midnight teeth below and yet they are each other's complimentary mirror image, engaged in a brotherly staring and fucking contest and their sweet slice of pie is stuck on the front line between them, moaning and crying their names so good that both of them could go insane and lose their minds in her cute, filthy holes.

"Oh, god... oh, fuck, oh, g-god! B-Benny, ah, Feyyyd—"

"Yes, baby, comeoncomeon!" Benny grunts out, brows scrunching up in despair. His balls ache from a week's worth of cum and desire knots at the pit of stomach, pleasure pulling outwards in a way that he can hardly contain with sheer power of will. He needs his baby to milk the seed out of his cock like she wants to fill herself up with his whelps.

The bed creaks, Benny's sweaty curls grind tirelessly against her swollen clit and Feyd's fingers tighten around her windpipe. Climax wipes out her seeing and hearing for a solid thirty seconds. Both holes clench pathetically around their cocks, drool slips from the corner of her mouth and gathers in the hollow between Feyd's clavicles.

Benny's mouth pops open, string of curses falling out as he lets himself get dragged in by his sweet darling sugar pie's pussy, milking him for all he has, milking him until it hurts and he wants to bury his face in her shoulder.

Feyd watches his brother come apart, gawks at him with parted lips and wickedly twitching smile. Dark eyes gleam and he waits only for one thing, for Benny to look him in the eyes, and when he does, Feyd-Rautha too drains himself into the sweet release of painful pleasure, pumping their sweetheart's ass full of filthy seed.

Three bodies come to rest and time and air stand still. Evening light seeps through the dirty window pane. Dogs bark outside and the stench of sex and sweat is nearly suffocating in the heat. Benny's weight bears down on the both of them as he nuzzles her neck and then his brother's.

"Benny," she sighs, mussing up his greasy strands with gentle fingers.

Pretty, sleepy puppy.

But a heavy one too. Feyd's breath below her is strained and quiet, but he holds out patiently.

Ten minutes. Then, Benny eases off them, cock slipping out of her sore sheathe. Proudly, he gawks down at himself, finding his shaft covered in slick and a lewd combination of cum from root to slit. Feyd-Rautha lifts her gently off his cock and thick dollops escape her clenching hole.

"I'll clean that up for you." Benny darts for the filthy treat between her thighs.

"NOOO, enough!" The sole of her foot splats against his bristly cheek and shoves him off with so much force that he's sent toppling off the bed, landing moaning and groaning on the creaking hardwood floor.

"Kush!" She then smacks at Feyd's bald head and the feline man all but leaps off the bed, knowing that the only thing to save him from a beating — or being sprayed down with a water bottle — is bringing enough distance between him and his sweetling. That and bringing her a warm, damp cloth.

Their baby's sulking with them now, so they better take care of her good.

"Get up, idiot." Feyd-Rautha kicks his brother in the ribs who is still shuffling around on the ground, stuffing his sweaty dick back into his jeans.

"Huh?"

"You know what to do!" Feyd yanks his twin up by the armpits and shoves him towards the hallway door to fetch their darling a nice, big glass of water, like always.

"Sorry, baby~" Benny catches himself against the door frame, looking back to her with big blue eyes that could melt rocks.

"It's fine," she smiles, smirks even, and Feyd tsssks through painted teeth, pale toes tapping on the floorboards.

"Always so lenient with him."

"Can't help it," she giggles. "Look at him."

"Yeah, I know."

"What's that supposed to mean," grumbles a blushing, pouting Benny before stomping out on the hallway as Feyd cracks the bathroom door open, pale, lithe limbs slipping out of view.

Finally alone — at least for a minute — their darling slumps against the damp pillows and lets out the biggest sigh of relief. Finally, things are as they should be again.Tonight, she will sleep sandwiched between the two warmest, nicest pillows in the world, embraced by two pairs of arms and legs and two heartbeats thudding peacefully against hers.

A/N: I want to be their brainless piece of cherry pie so bad 😩💦🥵 I don't rule out writing more random smutty scenarios with them, if inspiration strikes, hehe.

FEYD TAG LIST

@nostalgichoya, @forgedfromthestars, @sweetiee-o, @missbingu, @minedofmoria

@sebastianswallows, @charmingballoon, @flower-frog, @welliah, @aoi-targaryen

@coastalcowgirl35, @esolean, @szapizzapanda, @tatertooted, @sunny747

@ughdontbeboring, @meetmeatyourworst, @gravesdiggergirl

#feyd x reader #benny cross x reader #Feyd rautha x reader #Benny cross x you #feyd x you #feyd rautha x you #dune part 2 #the bikeriders #benny the bikeriders #the bikeriders fanfiction #dune part two #dune #dune fanfiction #austin butler #austin butler fanfiction #peggysuave fanfics #feyd #feyd rautha #feyd rautha harkonnen

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arminsumi · 1 year ago

Note

Can i request megumi comforting reader after a bad day? i need happy comfort fluff today and you words are magic

★ Stargazing with Megumi

★ Pairings : fem reader / Megumi

★ Synopsis : Megumi takes you stargazing. Who knew he was such a space nerd?

★ Content : fluff, comfort, cheesy/dorky flirting

★ Note : 🪄🔮 sprinkling cosmic happiness dust on u rn!! hope u feel better!!

Arms spread out, laid on your back in the cool grass as a humid summer breeze drifts by, looking up at the dusky purple sky as stars slowly start to appear one by one.

Megumi shifts around next to you, trying to get comfortable. He bends his knees, you glance at his legs and note how much longer his legs are than yours.

A soft sigh leaves his nose. He brings his hands together over his midriff and fidgets his fingers while stealing sideways glances of you.

One particular star in the sky has caught your attention. It shines like a jewel. You blink at it, ignoring all the other littler stars that are coming out.

"Megumi, which star is that?" you ask.

"That's Venus."

You stare at Venus. "Why is it so much brighter than the rest?" you wonder aloud.

Megumi looks over at you, his heart throbs, then he looks back to Venus.

"Because it has thick clouds that reflect lots of sunlight." he answers your curiosity, "Uh, and it's the closest to earth. You know, it's also the hottest planet in our solar system — because of its clouds."

He goes on a long, dorky ramble about planets and constellations. You smile and listen to him geek out about space.

⁕⁕⁕⁕

Just a few hours earlier, Megumi had found you lingering gloomily on the steps outside Jujutsu High.

He did a double take and furrowed his brows when he saw your weighted expression. Characteristically, he sunk his hands into his pockets and approached you coolly.

"What's that heavy face for?" he asked.

"Bad day." you shrugged.

"Oh..." he stiffened, "What happened? Do you want to talk about it?" he asked softly.

"No, nothing in particular happened." you replied, "It's just been one of those days, you know?"

He scrambled his brain for ideas that could make you feel better.

What would the others do?

What would Yuji do? He'd crack jokes until you smiled and then infect you with his contagious laughter. What would Nobara do? She'd take you out on the town for retail therapy — and hype you up in the fitting rooms until you felt like the hottest person in the world. What would Gojo do? Probably give you one of those bone-breaking hugs while saying something dumb like "Don't be sad, it's just life, kid."

But joking didn't come naturally to Megumi, and he didn't believe in retail therapy, and he was too shy and reserved to give you a bone-breaking hug, and he was too sensitive as a person to tell you to just get over it.

"Uh, do you want to stargaze with me?" he asked.

That was the only idea he could come up with. Laying in the grass and stargazing was something he did when life exhausted or disappointed him. The stars could call back his calmness.

⁕⁕⁕⁕

"... I feel bad for Mercury, it must be lonely without moons." Megumi finishes his long ramble about Mercury.

"I think I'm Mercury." you joke, laughing at yourself.

Megumi looks over at you, "Then I'll be your moon and keep you company."

Your cheeks warm up.

"Okay, then let's tell 'em to rename Mercury to Megumi and throw a me into its orbit, too."

Megumi fidgets with his fingers more as you and him flirt like dorks.

"... yeah, and then you can orbit around me." he nods.

"Sounds like a good time. I'd love to orbit around you."

His cheeks go red, but the lamps are too far away to illuminate his face and reveal his blush to you. So you just barely see his lips purse together into a smile.

"I'd also love to orbit around you. I could be like your moon admirer."

You burst out laughing at last, and then Megumi feels accomplished; he could actually fix your mood with some stargazing and dorky astral flirting.

For the rest of the night, he teaches you how to spot famous constellations and passionately talks about outer space. At some point, when he's saying something about Pluto, you zone out to his voice.

"... and you know, personally, if I were Pluto I'd be enraged. How dare they."

"You got a bone to pick with NASA, Megumi?" you chuckle.

"It wasn't NASA it was the IAU. And yes I have a bone to pick with them."

"So, why was Pluto downgraded to a dwarf planet?" you ask.

Megumi clicks his tongue, "Uhhh... something about it not absorbing surrounding debris or something? Like asteroids and stuff. But jeez, maybe the asteroids are Pluto's friends and he doesn't wanna absorb them, you know?"

You turn on your side and use your arm as a pillow. Megumi feels you looking at him, so he looks over at you.

"You're quite passionate."

"That's a nice way of calling me a space nerd."

"No, I mean it! I hardly ever see you talking so heatedly about anything. You're usually pretty calm."

Megumi smiles a little. "Bet it's funny to see me heated about big rocks floating in a vacuum, huh?"

"Yeah it's hilarious. Anyways... we should get back before we fall asleep here."

"Have you never slept under the stars? It's a great experience." Megumi says.

"I have not. But it's getting cold so... you better keep me warm."

Megumi tenses up as you snuggle him. The sudden closeness and feeling of your warmth and softness takes him aback and he goes completely silent.

You rest your head in the crook of his shoulder, sinking into him like a pillow.

"Hey Megumi?"

"Yes?"

"Isn't Venus the planet of love?"

"Yes...?"

"Nothing, nothing... just thinking."

His heart pounds.

I do not permit the copying/reposting/translation/plagiarism of my works. Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.

This is fictional work.

#fluff #sfw #jjk fluff #megumi fluff #megumi x reader #megumi #megumi fushiguro #megumi x fem reader #megumi x y/n #megumi x you #jjk megumi #fushiguro megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk x you #drabble #arminsumi

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holylulusworld · 11 months ago

Text

A different kind of Valentine

Summary: Your fiancé breaks your heart on Valentine’s Day out of all days.

Pairing: former!(any male character) x fem!Reader, Mafia!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, break-up, mentions/implied cheating, making out with a stranger, language, drinking, tipsy reader, a little fluff

Promises shouldn’t be broken.

Promises are meant to be kept. Right?

Love should be strong and unbreakable. If you swear to someone that you love and adore them, you cannot take it back so easily.

How could your fiancé take the words he whispered lovingly not months ago back?

“I can’t do this anymore,” he replied coolly when you asked why his suitcases were standing in the hallways. You believed he must go on yet another business trip.

That he wants to leave you never crossed your mind.

How foolish of you to believe that he wants to stay and keep his promises.

Shell-shocked you watched him grab your hand to slide his grandmother’s ring off of your finger.

You couldn’t think, speak, or even whimper. All you saw was the man you loved turn his back on you.

He stuffed the ring into his pocket, murmuring someone else’s name under his breath. You knew the name. Once in a while, he mentioned his assistant.

Of course, he had to turn your breakup into a cliché. He had to bang his secretary and leave you for a younger model.

If not for the tears running down your face, and the heaviness in your heart, you’d laugh at the fucked-up situation. It felt like you ended up in a bad rom-com slash comedy movie. The only difference was people weren’t laughing at the bad joke your life turned into.

“You can’t be serious,” oh, you finally found your voice. “Why are you doing this? Did you get bored? Is it the wedding? We could’ve talked things out.”

“That’s not it.” He grunted in your direction.

“Is she prettier? Better in bed,” you got angrier and louder. “Does she like it up her ass? Is it that?” You threw the next best things at him, making a scene. “What is it? Huh? Is her cunt squeezing you tighter?”

“You’re just not it!” He bit back and threw his hands up in surrender. “Can you not do this right now? How about you don’t throw a tantrum? People break up all the time!”

“Five years and that’s all I get?” You yelled. “I deserve better than a lame excuse! I want to know what happened to us!”

“I love her because I don’t love you anymore!” He yelled back, making you flinch at his outburst. “It’s not only that the sex is better. She’s all I ever wanted in a woman. You got too comfortable and want to cuddle on the sofa instead of going out and blowing me off behind a bar.”

“What?” You huffed. “I was the one trying to drag you off the couch! You only ever went out with your buddies.” He ignored your tears, and that your voice cracked. “I guess this never mattered. You had to fulfill the cliché. So, go ahead. We will see if she can make you happy.”

You stormed toward the door, blindly grabbing your keys and phone. It was impossible to stand there, staring at the gifts you placed on the coffee table in the living room.

“If you are still here when I come back, I’ll stab you right in the face,” you looked over your shoulder at the man who used to be your moon and stars. “If you touch my shit, you are a dead man. I will find you and your whore and turn you into dog food.”

“Another one,” you slammed the glass down onto the bar counter. “Make it a double.” You placed fifty bucks onto the empty glass. “No, give me the bottle. I think I’ll drink it at home.”

“We don’t sell the bottle for you to take it home,” the bartender gruffly replied.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” You glared at the burly guy. “I can drink the whole bottle at the bar, but I can’t pay for it and take it home?” Quirking a brow, you look at the man.

“House rules.”

“Fuck this,” you grabbed the fifty bucks and stuffed the money into your bra. “I’ll get more at the next liquor store. Fuck you, and all of you.”

“All of us?” The bartender asked with amusement.

You glared at him and bared your teeth.

“Assholes with a ding-dong between their legs. You are all the same. Useless and worthless…”

Storming out of the bar, you huffed again. “Fuck Valentine’s Day.” You muttered and walked away, almost running a guy over.

“Hey, watch your step, doll,” the guy snickered when you threw your clutch at him. “Ouch, what do you think you are doing?” The man caught your clutch just in time.

“Fuck you too!” You poked two fingers into his chest. “You are no better than the bartender and my lovely fiancé. All of you are useless and have a limp dick. No man is worth my time.”

You snatched the clutch out of the man’s hands. “Language, lady,” he said, his voice now dangerously low. “If you don’t watch your tongue, someone might teach you some manners.”

“Oh, and you are that kind of man,” you slapped him across the face with your clutch. “Who do you think you are?” Usually, you wouldn’t attack a stranger in the dead of the night, but you were a little tipsy, and still mad because of the events of the day. “Threatening a woman.”

“Sweet cheeks,” he said while rubbing his face. It was still red from the slap, and he considered his next step. “I wouldn’t dare to raise my hand against you.” The man stepped closer to grab your clutch. “I said—” He grabbed you by your throat and slammed you against the wall, “I’ll teach you a lesson.”

“I’ll scream,” your heart began to race. Maybe you messed with the wrong guy. “Get off me.”

“Yeah, you will scream,” he smirked darkly and leaned closer to whisper in your ear. “I’ll make you scream my name, doll. So, what will it be? Do you want me to make you scream, or do you want me to make you whimper my name?”

“That’s not a choice!” You complained. “I have had enough of selfish men believing they can toy with me and my heart. I’ll cut yours out if you dare to touch me.”

“A cocky one,” he dropped his hand from your throat and pressed his hand against the wall, right next to your head. “Tell me, doll. Who hurt such a sweet girl?” He looked you up and down, hungrily roaming your body with his eyes.

“He—” You looked away and blinked a few times. “You’re not my therapist, and I’m not your problem.”

“You made it my problem when you attacked me because a douchebag hurt you. So, again. Who hurt you, doll?”

God, he smelled so good, and his lips tenderly pressed against your earlobe. You didn’t know what got into you, but you grasped for the stranger, taking him by supposed when you pressed your lips to his.

His hands grabbed your face, gently cradling it while he allowed you to dominate the kiss. “Doll,” he murmured against your lips. “You’re a little drunk, huh?”

“Make me forget about him,” you pleaded and fisted his jacket. “Here and now. Come on. Don’t be all talk.”

“I’d love to make you scream my name.” He pecked your lips twice. “I love me a crazy girl hitting me at first sight, but I won’t take advantage of you. You’re hurt, drunk, and a little lost. Let me take you home.”

“I don’t even know your name,” you gasped and stepped back. “I just kissed a stranger and asked him to fuck me. What’s wrong with me?”

“Nothing is wrong with you, doll,” his features softened. “It’s alright. I’m a nice guy.” He smirked and laughed as you stepped back again. “My name is Bucky, okay. I’ll take you home if you want me to. Or I could call a cab for you.”

“Y/N,” you murmured your name, embarrassed about your actions. “Sorry. I didn’t want to attack you…or kiss you…or ask you to fuck me.”

“Y/N,” Bucky hummed. “A very nice name.” He said. “For an even nicer woman.” Holding out his hand, Bucky waited for you to take it. “I won’t bite, promised.”

“Maybe I like it when you bite me,” you challenged him.

“Let’s stick to getting the alcohol out of your system,” Bucky wrapped his arm around your shoulders when you didn’t take his hand. “Doll, you shouldn’t stay here. We started on the wrong foot, but I’m not a bad guy.”

“What the shit!” You exclaimed loudly while you looked around your apartment. “That bastard had the guts to unpack the gifts I got him before leaving our home to bang that bitch.”

“Hmm…that him?” Bucky lifted one of your picture frames. “He looks like a douchebag. I was right.”

“Why did you come with me again?” You glanced over your shoulder at the stranger in your home. “I’m good. Really.”

“I won’t leave a pretty dame in need alone on Valentine’s Day,” Bucky said. “Not after that man left you for some other woman.”

“I’m fine,” you lied. “Just…mad.” You shrugged. “I had the whole day planned; you know. Dinner at our favorite restaurant, the perfect gift, and naughty underwear to…” You shook your head.

“His loss,” Bucky shrugged while looking at one of the gift bags on the table. “It should’ve been him making big plans for Valentine’s Day. If you love your lady, you spoil her.”

“He found someone prettier and sexier,” you sniffled. “He told me so. The man I loved fell in love with his secretary because he doesn’t love me anymore.”

“Again, his loss,” he stepped closer to look inside the gift bag, taking the lingerie out. “Red lace, huh?”

“He liked red…” You snatched the underwear out of Bucky’s hands. “I wanted to turn him on. It’s been a while since he was interested in doing more than sleep in our bedroom.”

“I’d say white suits you more,” Bucky threw the lingerie over his shoulder. “How about you change into your favorite outfit, and I invite you for dinner. No strings attached, doll.”

“You want to take me out?” You questioned.

“Please let me take you out,” he stepped closer to grab your hand. “You deserve to spend this day with someone who cares.”

“You don’t even know me.”

“Yet,” he said. “Let me get to know you, please.”

You nodded and agreed to go out for dinner with Bucky. It was a risk, but one you were willing to take.

Valentine reloaded

Tags in reblog.

#bucky barnes #mafia au #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x female reader #A different kind of Valentine

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xoxochb · 4 months ago

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⋆·˚ ༘ * only bought this dress so you could take it off (take it off!)

warnings: iykyk…

pairing: percy jackson x daughter of hades and persephone

series master list

this time aphrodite wasn’t here to help you get ready which disappointed you in a way. this time percy’s mother helps. a plus side was that your brother would still be walking you down the aisle

“does it feel weird not living in your palace?” asks sally

“well I lived there my whole life. I don’t think I ever liked growing up in royalty though, my father was always controlling of me and my siblings”

“so I’ve heard”

you nod your head. “it was awful. my sister even moved out when she was of age. I don’t speak to her often either but I’m hoping I’ll be able to visit some time”

“I didn’t know you had a sister?”

“melinoe. she’s a goddess”

“minor?”

“very. my parents kind of wanted her to be kept a secret but I suppose I told you so it’s not really a secret anymore” you laugh

sally finishes tying your hair back and puts her hands on your shoulders. “you look lovely. percy is very lucky”

your cheeks flush a pink hue at the mere mention of your soon-to-be husband. good gods of olympus— if someone told you a month ago you would be marrying him instead of his brother you would’ve laughed in their face. yet here you are. you can’t help but feel nervous about this, yes you had been seeing percy since you were twelve and you were beyond comfortable being in this relationship but what if he didn’t feel that way? gods this whole marriage was your fault, I mean you’re only eighteen what if it was too early? did he actually not want to get married?

“oh, dear. you look like you’ve seen a ghost”

“I don’t think I thought things through”

sally frowns and sits on the bench beside you. “nervous?”

“yes. do you think percy really wants to get married? or is he just saying it so I can be happy?”

“(name), marriage is the only topic he has been able to stay on since it happened. I can assure you he is over the moon about this”

you feel tears brewing in your eyes but you quickly push them back to prevent ruining your makeup. “really?”

“yes, darling. I’d never lie to you”

you open your mouth to speak but the door opens, revealing your brother. “we’re starting in five”

you turn back to sally and mutter a quiet ‘thank you’ before exiting the room with nico and you begin walking out to the double doors leading to the beach

“take two” nico jokes, holding his arm out for you to link yours with, instead you throw your arms around him, without a doubt he returns the embrace

“thank you, nico”

“for what?”

“for being my brother”

“well then you’ll be happy to know I’ll always be your brother. even if you decide you hate me”

you pull away with a sigh and loop your arms through his. “I think I’m ready”

“promise me something”

“anything”

“you’ll visit me in the underworld”

“I will. I’m sure percy isn’t very welcome there anymore though”

you both burst out into an uncontrollable laughter. when you try to get any words out your stopped but your inability to breathe

“oh my gods— imagine dad’s face!”

the image of hades seeing your boyfriend husband fills your mind, making you lose any breath you had left. you decide to add onto the fit, “do you know— how dad was so eager to get me married-” you breathe out “he was obsessed with triton I’m starting to think he likes him more than mom”

“now that’s a wedding I would like to attend”

when both of your breathing steadies back to normal you collect yourself and wipe the slight tears that streamed down your face, fixing your hair to assure you like presentable for guests

“okay I’m ready for real now”

“then let’s get you married!”

you take in one last deep breath before opening the double doors and walking out onto the platform covering the sandy ground. the scent of salt water fills your scenes instantly. this time it wasn’t because of your asshole ex husband. this may have been the most nerve wracking part of the wedding— people watching your every move, but when your eyes meet a pair of sea-green ones your nerves feel at peace

when you finally make your way to the altar you hug nico once more before ushering him to his seat, then taking both percy’s hands into yours to prevent them from shaking anymore

“strapless dress? how’d you know those are my favorites?”

your cheeks flush red and you roll your eyes. “shut up”

“want me to save the dirty talk for later? I understand, my mouth is sealed”

when everyone finally settles the officiate begins speaking all that nonsense that they say at weddings. you’ve never actually been to one but you supposed if you were in the crowd this might have been the perfect opportunity to take a nap. he talked on and on for what felt like forever until the vows and until the ending kiss— your personal favorite part. when he finally said the iconic ‘you may kiss the bride’ you were sure you’ve never seen percy move as fast as he did then, quickly throwing your arms around each other into a very non-audience appropriate kiss which on a normal day you would’ve scolded percy for but you were to happy to care about anything right now

ੈ✩‧₊˚

you didn’t end up getting home until around midnight unfortunately. and you should have seen it that the moment you got walked through the doors percy would be eagerly sliding your dress zipper down. you made him wait however— finding it amusing every time you pulled his hands off you, making him wait until you were in your shared bedroom. after what felt like percy’s whole life (he was sure it had been) he was able to unzip your white dress

“you’re quite eager” you laugh. percy ignores your comment and slides your dress off once the zipper was undone, you fumble with your legs to throw it on the floor, then connect your lips back with percy’s as you unbutton his white shirt

“have I told you that you look gorgeous tonight?” he mumbles into your mouth, making butterflies erupt into a frenzy in your stomach

“fifteen times”

when finally you unbutton the rest of the shirt you tear it off and throw it to the side— you only hope it didn’t hit anything important. percy then slides his hand from your bare waist to your underwear, and slowly slides them down your legs. you know for sure you’re not getting even a second of sleep tonight

@azure-drag0ness @itzmeme @leathesimp @pevenxie @mp-littlebit @inclusivesimping

#xoxochb #cries and throws up #I am sooo not ready for this series to be over #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo series #pjo fandom #percy jackson #pjo #percy series #pjo hoo toa #percy jackson x y/n #percy jackson x you #percy jackson x reader

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euphorajeon · 1 year ago

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oh, the joy of having jeon jeongguk as a boyfriend | jjk

— pairing: boxer!jk x f. reader

— genre: fluff, slight smut | college!au, boxer!jk

— word count: 0.8k

— warnings: sleeveless jk, suggestive themes, usual boxer!jk and his gf shenanigans hahaha

— summary: you just want one bite.

— author's note: pls tell me im not the only one heavily affected by his vogue photoshoots D:

masterlist | boxer!gguk masterlist

“Just one, please?”

You’ve been at this for the past fifteen minutes. The first five you spent leaning your head on your boyfriend’s shoulder, enjoying the warmth on your cheek from the skin-on-skin contact. He was still unaware of your intentions, thinking it was just a silent gesture to initiate physical touch. He’d put his arm around you then, squeezing you further into his side.

The second five minutes you spent tracing his tattoos with the tips of your fingers. You paid special attention to your favorites—the tiger lily, the Winners Never Quit wording, and the recently-discovered moon on his shoulder (which you recolored with your own mouth some weeks ago)—and gripped his arm a bit tighter when you got to his bicep. The black tank top he’s wearing gives you too much of an easy access that you didn’t realize when you start squeezing your boyfriend’s bicep repeatedly like it’s your own personal stress ball.

“Babe, what are you doing?”

Jeongguk’s question triggered your next course of action, which you have been doing for the last one-third portion of the aforementioned fifteen minutes.

“Can I bite your arm?” was your opening line. When he blinks blankly, you continue with a paraphrased question, though it doesn’t really cease Jeongguk’s confusion: “Just one bite, please?”

“Why would you wanna bite my arm?” The puzzled look on Jeongguk’s face deepens, his thick eyebrows furrowing and scrunching up his face. A sliver of recognition flashes across his eyes as he squints at you in suspicion. “Are you horny again?”

“No, no.” You’re quick to deny. “It’s just—“ You give the bicep in your grasp yet another squeeze, watching, fascinated, as the skin bounces firmly in your hand. “—so … big, so sexy, so … delicious.” There’s a giant drooling emoji in your head right now and Jeongguk can only stare in part amusement and part confusion at his entranced girlfriend.

“Please, one bite?”

Your boyfriend’s eyes jump from your pleading eyes to your pouting lips, a tiny smile playing at the edge of his lips. The double piercing on the right side of his bottom lip taunts you, almost making you swerve to a whole new part of Jeongguk’s body to have between your lips and teeth. Oh, the joy of having a hot boyfriend.

“Okay.”

“Okay??”

“Okay, you can have one bite of my arm.”

You have your mouth on his arm not even a second after Jeongguk finishes his sentence. Sinking your teeth into the flesh, you’re careful to apply only a little pressure at the beginning before gradually adding more until you see Jeongguk grimacing from the corner of your eye. It’s his fault, though, for only giving you one bite of this big, sexy, and delicious inked arm. You’re just making the best use of the opportunity you were given.

In the seconds you spend attached to his arm, you think, why stop here? You could be doing so much more to this arm than just giving it a bite mark. So, with that in mind, you start to suck. The hiss Jeongguk lets out in surprise flashes something hot in your belly that you promptly ignore to continue your assault on his arm.

“I guess it’s kinda my fault, huh?” Jeongguk hums, his free hand tucking your hair behind your ear. The gesture seems sweet, innocent even, but the way he grips your nape after is anything but. “Always flaunting my tattoos, flexing my arms … even giving you surprise kisses. I wanted your attention and got more than what I asked for.” You pretend not to be affected by his words, now licking at the angry-red skin beneath the black ink. Jeongguk doesn’t need to know how much this is turning you on.

“I didn’t say anything about giving me a hickey, though.”

Jeongguk’s grip has moved from your nape to your hair, where he gives a slight tug to pull you away from his arm. When you look up, your blurry vision is met with Jeongguk’s piercing stare, making excitement course through your veins. You didn’t plan for any of this to happen—you just wanted to bite his arm, really—but if Jeongguk wants to teach you a lesson for what you did to him, you’d happily be a good student and accept whatever he decides to give you.

“Exactly,” you challenge him, grinning. “You didn’t say anything about it, therefore, there’s no reason for me not to give you a hickey.”

“Huh.” He squints his eyes. “You said you weren’t horny, didn’t you?” Your heart drops to your stomach as he leans forward to start tracing your neck with his nose, planting a tiny kiss on it. “So it won’t be a problem if I don’t let you cum while I use you to make myself cum, right?” The sickeningly-sweet smile on his lips contradicts the lewdness of his words. “You’re not horny so you don’t need to cum, am I right?”

Play stupid games, win stupid prizes.

Oh, the joy of having Jeon Jeongguk as a boyfriend.

— a/n: thank you for reading! feedbacks here would be very much appreciated :D

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erenjaegerwifee · 6 months ago

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Run Baby Run

Survive the Night: Day 2

Paring: Neteyam x Fem!Avatar!Reader x Lo'ak

Warnings: MDNI 18+, NON-CON, Fingering, predator/prey, explicit language, bondage, gagging, rough sex, biting/marking, mentions of bleeding/blood, blowjob, double penetration, anal

Word Count: 4.1k

✨Disclaimer: All of my characters are aged-up! Please if you are not comfortable reading them DO NOT INTERACT. However if you do at your own risk, any negative comments will be deleted and the tumblr will be blocked. Thank you!

Event Masterlist

The RDA just landed back on Pandora about one month ago. Only now did they decided to wake up all the avatars from cryo. They are meant to aid in finding new land to build the main outpost on. After all, they do want to be cautious this time around, it has been 20 years since the last time the humans have been on the green bioluminescent moon.

You walk with your group of four through the forest trying to find a clearing for the RDA to dig up and start building on. There were many groups that were given specific parts of the moon to map out, collecting data for future use as well. Unfortunately for you, your group was placed in the Omatikayan territory. In their forest

This section of the forest was not meant to be used as they will not interact well with humans after the last time they were around, which to you is understandable. What you do not account for is the predators that roam the forest. Your team consist of two ex-army soldiers, a scientist and a doctor, you.

Two big men with guns should be enough to keep you safe, but that just isn’t true on an unfamiliar planet. You skip over tree roots as you make your path through the dense bush, occasionally turning back towards your grow to make sure they are still close behind you.

You make jokes and laugh as you move through but everything comes to a stop when an arrow with green and yellow feathers hit the chest of one of your men. You watch his body drop to the floor and spin around looking in the direction of the arrow. However, the na’vi blend in amazingly with the surroundings, you don't see jack shit.

The other man holds his gun up aiming at his surroundings ready to shoot anything that moves. The scientist calls in for back up but no one answers, something must be jamming your signal. Thats so odd, how can something stop your communications this deep into the forest, one of the main features of the tech that was designed to be used on Pandora was it only have one specific device to jam communications like that, and only humans have it so how is it out here?

Your thoughts get cut short when the other man is shot in the back, arrow sticking out of his chest when he falls onto his front. You make eye contact with the scientist before your both becomes panicked, “Is your tracker on? You can back track it and go back to the ship” you ask her your tail sways anxiously in the air. “Yea I got it” she whispers and grips my hand as we look around. I give her hand a squeeze silently reminding her of the protocol we were supposed to follow.

If the group ever gets into an altercation, the remaining team is supposed to scatter into different directions, because the less people we lose, the better for the RDA. “Ready?” you glance at her seeing her nod, “Go!” you shout and run in the opposite direction from her. You run as fast as you can away from the na’vi even though you can’t see them. You have no intention of dying today.

You quickly make your way through the unfamiliar terrain, jumping over small logs and continuously running into big leaves. Honestly, it is upsetting you quite a bit at this point, are you not supposed to be taller? Why is everything hitting you in the face.

You are harshly pulled back to reality by the sound of heavy footsteps running after you. Not one pair, but two. ‘Fuck’ The adrenaline running through your body makes you pick up speed, as if that was even possible and you feel like you are flying in your feet. You don’t even take a second to look back, too scared at what you might see. The last thing you need is two giant blue creatures chasing you with knives.

In the distance you see a fallen tree ‘this must be the remains of hometree from all those years ago’ you beeline straight for it. ‘No way they would come in here this must be too painful for them.’ You didn’t take into consideration, some of the na’vi never had to go through the pain of losing hometree.

When you make it to the base of the tree, you glance behind you no longer hearing footsteps or seeing anyone, you still choose to hide out inside. The planet was getting darker but not so much that the bioluminescent effects came into view yet. When you walk in, as expected it is total darkness, besides the faint light that can be seen on the other end of the tree, which is now a tunnel. Grass has grown on the inside bottom of the tree and you are pretty sure you can make out the silhouette of vines handing from the top. You sit close to the entrance you came in and took the backpack off your back.

Rummaging through it to see if you have anything useful, you find a mini flashlight and some rope while you were searching for your tracker. But low and behold, nowhere in sight. It must have dropped out the side pocket while you were running but you didn’t want to risk going back out there, at least not yet.

After a about 3 minutes of sitting with your legs to your chest, arms wrapped around them. You hear shuffling outside; the rustling of leaves makes your nauseous. The footsteps are back, they found you? Oh no you are about to die. You put your head down in the space between you praying to every form of God you know, Eywa included for the great mother to spare your life.

When the sounds stop you raise your head and scramble to flick the flashlight on, pointing it outwards in front you. Your view is blocked however when 4 muscular, blue legs come into view less than a meter away they stand, just starting at you. You love the flash light up their bodies, taking note of the rock-hard abs and strong veiny arms on both na’vi men, but what scared you would have to be the grins they were sporting, fangs on full display.

The taller of the two was smirking down at you, his hair was braided and lose down his back, it was long properly as long as your hair. The other was ginning down at you sickeningly scary; his hair was also braided but pulled loosely into with a hair tie, a couple braids feel over one side of his face.

‘You’re about to die’

“Well well, brother look what we have here” the shorter one speaks up, he is speaking English, his tone was so condensing perfectly matching his facial expression. Yon only now realizes, this one has five fingers, like you.

“Please just let me go...” tears wield up in your eyes your vision becoming blurry as you look up at them from your sitting position, “I'll never come back to the forest again please” your eyes shift from one brother to the next trying to hit a soft stop somewhere but you know they most likely don't have one for anyone who is a part of the RDA but you still try.

“Lo’ak look at this, it is about to cry” the taller one chuckles darkly when he kneels down to your level, his four fingered hand comes up to your face swiping away the stray tears that fell down your face. The other man who you now learned is names Lo’ak, laughed at you.

“Such a nice little figure too huh bro” he replied they were still ignoring your pleads as the chuckled at your terrified form. He kneels down next to his brother and gripped your calf and pulling your leg harshly away from your body. You underestimate his strength when he pulls you and your entire body drags on the grass making you scream. Either way, he doesn't let go, only gesturing for his brother to pull on your other leg.

Your pleads get louder and you accidentally drop the flashlight, it hits a rock breaking the light so now its darker, safe for the new found bioluminescent vines and grass that have grown on around the fallen tree. They chuckle and laugh at your scared gasped as the area got darker. You launch forward at their hands on your legs and try to get out of their grip, but they were too strong.

You give up trying to pry their hands off you and opt for kicking and screaming instead, they grips did not falter but you try anyway. “Please, please let me go!” you shout out. The taller of the two speaks, “No I don’t think we’ll be doing that, so can you stop... It’s getting annoying” his voice is deep, stern. If you weren’t so frightened for your life, you might think it was hot. “Yea just relax a bit, and maybe we might let you go when were done” Lo’ak spoke.

“What? After what-” you were cut off by the taller pulling out a knife from the side of his loincloth and gripping your t-shirt at the top. “Wait!” you try to use both your hands to keep his hand away as you cry, “Eywa, Neteyam you are going to give the girl a heart attack, we can’t fuck a dead girl” he grins wickedly making Neteyam laugh. “WHAT?!” you scream, his words catch your attention and you loosen your grip on Neteyam’s wrist involuntarily giving him an opening to cut your top down the middle ripping it off. You pull your hands to cover your chest even though you were wearing a bra.

Both men effortlessly remove your hands from blocking the view as you squirm to get out of it, “Wait- I wait- Boys can’t we talk about this?” you try to reason with them but they ignore you once more. “She’s quite pretty, even when she cries, Lo’ak you did a good job picking this one” He tilts his head to the side to look at his brother before turning back towards your smaller form.

“Eywa yea, we are going to have so much fun with this one” Neteyam lets go of your wrist and moves to grab the rope that was sitting next to your backpack on the floor, “can’t do anything if her squirmy ass doesn’t stop moving.”

Lo’ak moves to sit behind you bringing your body flush to his chest holding both your wrist together in front of you. Neteyam straddles your legs so you can’t kick him away as he wraps the rope tightly around your wrist. He pulls it tightly making red angry marks appear on your blue skin, you whimper and try to pull away but you are a bit slow, fighting them will not get you out of this situation, they were faster and stronger than you, clearly well-trained warriors.

Neteyam waste no time cutting off your belt and unbuttoning your pants, while Lo’ak holds you still. He rids your body of everything but your undergarments and now you lay in between two massive native men tied up and half naked. Maybe if they weren’t threatening your life, you wouldn’t have such a big problem with this.

“Lo’ak look at this” he pulls your legs open wide for him, holding onto your skin so tightly, you were sure he would leave marks. Lo’ak moved from behind you now situated next to his brother pulling your legs further apart to see what his brother was seeing. A small wet spot, barely noticeable but it was there, “if I didn’t know any better, I'd say you like getting tied up and fucked Avatar.” Lo’ak chuckled, “and we haven’t even touched you yet” this brother spoke up as if they were finishing each other’s sentences.

You wiggle and squirm but nothing you do seems to stop their actions. Eventually your pleading starts to irritate them so, they pull off your underwear and stuff the fabric in your mouth muffling your protest and only laugh at you when you try to speak. Lo’ak’s fingers immediately move to your pussy, it wets his fingers when he runs them through your folds, Neteyam’s hands join his making you mewl in protest, you did not want to admit if it felt good.

Your thoughts are pushing away however by the feeling of 4 fingers being inserted at the same time. Your scream at the stretch and pain you feel, but it's muffled by the fabric. You shift trying to make yourself more comfortable but nothing helps. You cry out when they start taking turning pumping in and out of you, their fingers getting soaked up in your essence making it drip down into their palms.

Your back arches at you watch them stare at your private parts, practically entranced by the amount of slick they are getting out of you. Thanks to na’vi anatomy, you know the slick the women produce is much more and much thicker than that of humans, to accommodate the massive size of the males' genitalia. Your body betrays you when you feel yourself opening up for them to fuck into. You cry and whimper as they hit that amazing spot inside you that you could have never seems to reach.

“Please-” your voice is muffled and getting drier with every breath you take. “Please? Your begging? Fucking whore, what do you want huh? to cum you think you deserve that?” Both mean speak harshly to you but you can’t find it in yourself to decipher who said what. You aren’t even sure if you are begging to come or if you are begging for them to stop. Either way you continue your whimpering and pleading until you finally gush on their fingers.

This doesn’t stop them however, the don’t stop when you're thrashing in their grip but just smugly look towards you observing your overstimulation. Eventually they do give up and pull out of you, both men sticking their fingers in their mouth sucking off your excess juice. Honestly, the sight turns you on but you don’t want them to know that.

Your pulled to reality once more when they undo their loincloths simultaneously, cocks spring up into the air you glance back and forth between both men. They were fucking huge, you have only seen what the na’vi male genitalia look from photos but goddamn, its fucking huge, unless it’s just them. Neteyam ties his hair back into a half up half down hairstyle to get it out of his face, and Lo’ak pulls his knife out and cuts open your bra, exposing your breast to the cool air of the night.

Your tits bounce slightly and your nipples harden in the air, Lo’ak throws his knife aside before bringing his face down to bite and suck on them, you mewl as he does your head hits the ground under you and both your hands still tied together rest on his shoulder, your legs are pinned by his body but at this point, you have stopped fighting and ready to get over this.

It may be the only way to keep your life. Neteyam pushes Lo’ak off the bottom half of your body as he spreads your legs and pushes into you without any warning. You thought their fingers were much, you had no idea what you were in for. He doesn’t give you time to adjust when he bottoms out, but starts bulling his cock into you, you fuck you like he’ll never get the opportunity to fuck anyone ever again.

Your muffled screams meet their ears but they once again ignore you. Lo’ak grabs your thrashing tail in his hand and give it a firm yank making you yelp. He chuckles when your movements calm a bit due to the pain he just inflicted. His mouth moves away from your now purple swollen nipples and up to your neck. Neteyam bends down to the other side off your neck as he fucks into you and they both suck and kiss leaving deep purple marks. You just know it is going to look like someone strangled you.

You whimper and moan at the feeling of their fangs grazing your skin, what you don’t expect is when they bite down hard on your soft skin. You are once again screaming into the muffled fabric, your nails grip and scratch on one of their shoulders but you aren’t sure which one. You feel the warm blood running down your shoulder and neck, the bite hurts, but when they start lapping at your new wounds it becomes more bearable. They pay no mind to you as they continue biting and sucking on your skin, creating bite marks in their wake from your neck to your stomach.

Lo’ak pulls away from your body admiring their work and Neteyam starts grunting in your ear, he’s gonna come. The thought of him coming on your body sends you spiraling and you come on his cock not being able to hold it, his cock just feels so good fucking into you. When Neteyam releases he groans in your ear, you swear it is the sexiest thing you ever heard, you don’t even realize he come deep inside you before pulling out.

Your hole is gapping and both brothers watch the cum ooze out of you slowly. Lo’ak taking his fingers and pushes it back in, curling his fingers up to the stop Neteyam was just bruising with his cock, the feeling makes you whimper but it doesn’t last long.

Lo’ak lines himself up and pushes his cock into you now, you didn’t even get a second to rest. He doesn’t wait much like his brother when he starts pounding you into the floor. You moan and mewl as he fucks into you, almost as hard as his brother but not quite that much.

Neteyam moves to kneels next to your face, cock hanging heavy over your eyes as you watch him stroke it up and down. This are by far the sexiest men you have ever been with, and the stamina, you aren’t even sure you can keep up but you are sure they are gonna cut you until you pass out.

He taps his cock head on your lips before pulling your underwear out from your mouth and throwing it to the side, with the rest of your forgotten clothes. he grabs your hair on the top of your head and pull your lips over the head of his cock, he thrust into your mouth pulling your head to meet his thrust and throws his head back while he does it, feeling your tongue trace the veins on his cock. When you near your next release you moan around him, sending vibrations through his body. Your anils now dig into his muscular thigh as you try to find something to hold on to. When you do gush on Lo’ak’s cock, he follows not far behind cumming inside you with a sweet moan, it's almost submissive the way he throws his head back.

After he comes down from his high and pulls out, he stares at your pussy watching your gaping hole pulse and clench around nothing. He pulls his eyes away from the sight and watches you suck on his brother’s cock; he strokes his cock that is already hardening again and speaks to him in na’vi, saying something you didn’t understand.

Neteyam smiles down at you wickedly as he pulls you up and away from his cock. “Get up evenge (girl)” he says as he pulls you to stand up by your hair. You have no idea what they said but it was so hot listening to them speak in their native tongue. When you are pulled up, your knees buckle almost instantly and you fall forward on to Lo’ak. He barely moves, standing strongly and catches you in his arms.

He lifts you like you weigh nothing and your legs come to wrap around his thin waist as he brushes stray hairs off your sweaty face. Neteyam comes and press his chest up against you’re back and pushing your chest into Lo’ak’s. You have no energy to hold yourself up so you rest your head on his shoulder. Your eyes feel drowsy and you blink slowly.

“Ever had anything up in here sevin (pretty)?” Neteyam ask you while his fingers brush over your puckering ass hole, he drags your mom mixture of cum down to the hole and push one of his fingers in. “No! No please” you feel as if all the tiredness left your body when you jump up trying to get away from his touches but Lo’ak holds you tightly.

You should have known this was a trap, they were nice to you for no reason when they picked you up like a baby, you should have known they wanted to do something. Neteyam reaches around your body and cut the rope that was bounding you. Your wrist now sported red ligature marks about 3 inches thick, they really made sure you wouldn’t get away.

All your fussing was for nothing when his finger squeezes into your tight hole deeper, your hands fly to Lo’ak’s back and you grip him as if he could somehow save you. Your nails dig into his skin when Neteyam inserts another finger pumping it a few times before you relax and he pulls out. Lo’ak inserts himself into your overstimulated cunt bottoming out inside you, but this time he didn’t move.

Neteyam lined his cock head up to your other whole pushing it inside slowly, you felt both of their cocks touch inside you even though it’s in different holes. You head falls back on Neteyam’s shoulder as you babble and plead for them to stop. You hit and scratch at loak while tears fall down your cheeks as you cry your cute ‘nos’ and ‘please stops’.

They find it sweet how much you are still trying to fight them down and not getting anywhere. When Neteyam bottoms out in your tight hole, you breath heavily as you try to adjust to him. When Lo’ak starts moving Neteyam slowly follows and their cocks move the way their fingers did earlier, they take turns thrusting into you. You cry and plead for them to ‘go slow’ but they pay you no mind, only wrapped up in their own pleasure.

Eventually they are pounding into you, eyes shut tightly as you feel yourself loosen up enjoying the feeling of both men inside you. One particular thrust has you moaning loudly and they continue hitting that sweet spot. You blabber out nonscience bouncing up and down on both cocks, you have never been stretched out like this before, you’ve never been fucked like this before.

Your mouth agape trying to catch your breath as they use you to chase their own orgasms, the words they spew at you goes in one ear and out the other, you cannot even make out what they are saying, you aren’t even 100 percent sure they were speaking English. When you do cum on Lo’ak’s cock it's with a loud wail, you feel your own cunt pulse, gripping him inside you triggering his orgasm and Neteyam shortly after stuffing you full in both holes making you pass out in between their bodies.

When you awake you feel a warm body wrapped around yours as you lay on a soft blanket. You observe your surroundings and see Lo’ak sitting a couple feet to the side of you in what looks like a hut, which means Neteyam is curled around you. You raise your head confused as to why you are here, they never killed you, but they also never took you home. You hear the distinct sound of chains moving when you try to stretch your foot and you realized. They have you chained like some kind of vicious dog by your ankle, attached to pole in the center of the hut.

“Ah you are awake avatar, what is your name?” Neteyam’s chest rumbles as he speaks to you. “I'm not telling you” you feel like you throat was scratching as you swallow some no existent spit. Lo’ak hands you a cup of water and you chug it, “name girl” he says sternly. “y/n” you mumble.

“Oh, that’ll fit perfectly on your new collar” he gestures to the piece of fabric he was planning on sewing your name into. You aren’t ever getting away from them.

✨ I hope you enjoyed reading! Likes, reposts and comments are always appreciated!

Taglist:

@strongheartneteyam @rivatar @delusionalwh6re @nilahsstuff @xylianasblog @quicktosimp @xrollingmyeyesx

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niteshade925 · 5 months ago

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April 13, Xi'an, China, Shaanxi Archaeology Museum/陕西考古博物馆 (Part 3 - Qin dynasty to Sui dynasty):

First up is one of many bronze edict tablets of the 2nd emperor of Qin dynasty, made in 209 BC. Inscribed upon it in Seal script is one of two edicts, specifically the one from the 2nd emperor of Qin dynasty (秦二世), which basically is a continuation of Qin Shi Huang's edict on standardizing all weights and measurements. Here Qin Shi Huang/秦始皇 is referred to as Shi Huangdi/始皇帝, where shi/始 means "origin", and huangdi/皇帝 means "emperor".

^The edict inscribed is as follows (this is my VERY rough translation, please take this with a grain of salt, I'm not great at reading Old Chinese; original text is on bottom right of picture):

“First year (209 BC; first year of 2nd Emperor of Qin's reign), [We] issued an edict to chancellors Li Si and Feng Quji: Shi Huangdi pioneered this effort to standardize all weights and measurements, since then all such edicts have been inscribed on bronze. Now that [We have] inherited this Huangdi title, [We] shall not refer to Ourselves as Shi Huangdi here. Likewise, should Our descendants continue to produce tablets of Shi Huangdi's edict, they shall not take credit for Shi Huangdi's achievements. [We] hereby inscribe this edict on the left, so that all may be clear."

Ever since Qin Shi Huang tried to standardize systems of measurements for the entire country, every dynasty since Qin dynasty has also done the same. These are the standardized weights and volume measurements (all made with bronze) from Western Han dynasty (202 - 8 BC). Those volume measurement tools are very much like oversized measurement spoons, since they are mostly used to measure liquids and grains (in ancient China grains can be measured by volume).

Looks like I forgot about this one in part 2, this is a bronze sword from Warring States period (475 - 221 BC), I believe. It's decorated with carved pieces of jade (some are on the scabbard, but the scabbard has presumably decomposed over time):

The painted and carved stone doorway to a Eastern Han dynasty (25 - 220 AD) tomb. The actual (double) doors are in the middle, and the pieces around them are the side jambs and the lintel. Note the animals, mythical creatures, and humans depicted. On the double doors, in order from top to bottom, there's a pair of Zhuque/朱雀/Vermilion Bird, a pair of symbolic door knockers shaped like a beast carrying a ring in its mouth, and a pair of oxen. On the top right and top left of the lintel piece, you can also clearly see the sun crow and the moon toad, respectively.

The layout of some Western Han dynasty (202 - 8 BC) mausoleums. Note that the "pyramids" on the model aren't stone pyramids like the Great Pyramid of Giza, they are actually fengtu/封土, or artificial mounds of earth on top of the actual tomb to symbolically seal the tomb (feng/封 means "seal" or "to seal"), and can serve as tomb markers. Fengtu can differ vastly in size according to the social status of the deceased, so the fengtu of imperial tombs are usually huge, some so big that they are like small hills. However, while Western Han dynasty imperial tombs have these square-ish fengtu mounds, in Eastern Han dynasty (25 - 220 AD) the fengtu mounds became circular, and imperial tomb fengtu have been circular pretty much ever since. But fengtu wasn't just reserved for the elites, common folk also built small circular fengtu mounds on top of graves (these graves are called fen/坟; graves without fengtu are called mu/墓), and this is still practiced today, albeit much more common in rural areas since there are less people and more land. When people tend to the graves of their family members and ancestors on Qingming Festival, if the grave is a fen grave, people would pile more earth on the fengtu to make it rounder as part of the upkeep process.

A set of pottery figurines of entertainers from a Western Han era tomb. I love how they set the display up here, you can practically imagine the music and the dancing

More pottery figurines from Western Han era tombs

Western Han era hollow clay bricks depicting the Four Symbols/四象 of the cardinal directions: Qinglong/青龙/Azure Dragon of the East, Zhuque/朱雀/Vermilion Bird of the South, Xuanwu/玄武/Black Tortoise of the North, and Baihu/白虎/White Tiger of the West.

Left: a piece of intricately painted lacquered wood, I forgot where it's from but it was probably a piece of decoration on a larger artifact. Right: a piece of gold decoration inlaid with turquoise from Western Han era

The biggest decorated yubi/玉璧 (jade disc with hole in the middle) found so far, from an early Western Han dynasty tomb. Its diameter is 43.2 cm (~17 inches). If you zoom in, the inner band is decorated with these almost tadpole-like little swirls, and these are called gu pattern/谷纹, since they might represent sprouting rice kernels. The outer band is decorated with 4 sets of kuilong patterns/夔龙纹 and 4 sets of dragon-phoenix patterns/龙凤纹. It's speculated that the patterns here together depict the universe, and the hole in the middle is where the spirit of the deceased will travel through. This particular yubi also has 六百六十一 ("six hundred and sixty-one") carved discreetly on the side, presumably a "serial number" left by the artisan who crafted this piece.

Decorated backs of bronze mirrors. I didn't take a picture of the plaque so I'm unclear on what time period these are from (may or may not be from the time period indicated at the beginning of the post):

Left: a hand-held incense burner. Right: a particular type of incense burner called a boshanlu/博山炉, so named because the lid was made to look like a mini mountain

Various Northern Zhou dynasty (557 - 581 AD) painted pottery figurines. Below middle arranged in a circle is the metal pieces on a belt.

Sixteen Kingoms era pottery entertainer figurines:

#2024 china #xi'an #china #shaanxi archaeology museum #chinese history #chinese culture #qin dynasty #han dynasty #northern zhou dynasty #sixteen kingdoms period #archaeology #history #culture

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millyh23 · 2 months ago

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Greece with a Side of Murphy’s Law

Alessia Russo x Reader

word count:

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Alessia had poured herself into planning this trip, hoping for a dream holiday in the sun-soaked beaches of Greece, where she and Y/N could finally unwind from their busy schedules. But things took a bad turn as soon as they stepped into the airport.

They were running late—very late.

“Less, come on! We’re going to miss our flight!” Y/N called over her shoulder, passport clutched in her hand as she power-walked to the security line. Alessia rushed behind, arms loaded with bags, almost tripping over her own feet.

“We’ll make it! I swear!” Alessia gasped, but as they neared the gate, dread washed over her.

The gate was closed.

They watched helplessly through the glass as their plane began to pull away from the terminal. Alessia dropped her bags and slumped onto a seat.

“No, no, no,” she muttered, eyes wide as if sheer disbelief might change the situation. “I booked this months ago.”

Y/N settled next to her, nudging her gently. “It’s okay, Less. This happens…right?”

After hours of rescheduling and waiting for a new flight, they finally boarded. Alessia fell asleep before the plane even left the ground, exhaustion from the morning’s disaster finally catching up to her. Y/N, on the other hand, couldn’t help but stare at the ceiling, wondering if this was a foreshadowing of the trip to come.

They arrived in Greece after a bumpy flight, the hot air blasting them as they stepped out of the airport and into the sun-drenched chaos of Athens. Alessia fished out her confirmation email and gave Y/N a confident nod.

“Alright, nothing but smooth sailing from here,” she declared.

“Sure, Captain,” Y/N teased, grabbing her hand. “Lead the way.”

They arrived at the hotel, bags in hand, ready to finally drop everything and relax. Alessia approached the check-in desk, confident and beaming.

“Hi, checking in under Russo,” she said, sliding over her ID with a winning smile. “Alessia Russo.”

The receptionist scanned the screen, frowning slightly. “Hmm… I see your reservation, Ms. Russo, but it looks like it’s not for this property. It’s for our branch in Lisbon.”

Alessia blinked, her face going pale. “Lisbon? Lisbon in…Portugal?”

The receptionist nodded, tapping at the keyboard. “Yes, unfortunately. It seems this booking is for our Portuguese location.”

Y/N covered her mouth, looking at Alessia with wide eyes. Alessia was at a complete loss, staring at the receptionist as if she’d just told her she’d booked a hotel on the moon.

“Well, can we…maybe book a room here?” Alessia asked, her voice almost pleading.

The receptionist checked. “We do have one room left, but it’s a standard double, not quite the ocean-view suite you booked in Portugal…”

“That’s fine! We’ll take it.” Alessia handed over her card, trying to save face. Y/N squeezed her hand, clearly trying not to laugh.

Once they finally made it to their room, Alessia tossed her bags onto the floor and collapsed onto the bed.

“Not exactly the suite I planned,” she muttered, cheeks red.

“It’s fine, Less. A bed’s a bed,” Y/N replied, flopping down beside her.

They decided to unpack a little to settle in, hoping things would start looking up. But as Y/N opened her suitcase, a frown crossed her face.

“Uh…Less?” she began slowly, pulling out a pair of trousers that were definitely not hers. “Why does my suitcase have someone else’s clothes?”

Alessia whipped around, staring at the suitcase in horror. “No. No way.”

As they dug through the bags, they discovered that neither of them had the right suitcase. Instead of swimsuits, sandals, and summer clothes, they had a random assortment of business suits, formal shoes, and a toiletry bag with initials that were definitely not theirs.

“We…grabbed the wrong suitcases.” Y/N held up a shirt with a defeated sigh.

“Oh my god.” Alessia sank to her knees. “How could this get any worse?”

She felt around for her phone, hoping to call the airport. But her phone was missing. She looked up at Y/N, whose face was turning pale.

“Where’s your phone?” Alessia asked, panic creeping into her voice.

Y/N’s hand shot to her empty pocket, and a horrifying realization dawned on her. “The taxi…”

Both of their phones were still sitting in the back seat of the taxi they’d taken from the airport.

“So…we have no clothes, no phones, and we’re in the wrong hotel,” Y/N summarized, trying to keep a straight face. She looked at Alessia, who was wide-eyed, and burst out laughing. “This is turning into the best holiday ever.”

Alessia buried her face in her hands, groaning, “I wanted to give you the perfect trip, and now we’re living in a sitcom.”

Y/N wrapped her arms around Alessia, pulling her close. “It’s perfect because I’m here with you,” she teased, pressing a soft kiss to Alessia’s temple. “Besides, we’ll laugh about this one day, right?”

Alessia couldn’t help but chuckle, finally leaning into Y/N’s embrace. “Only if we survive this.”

Alessia paced around the small hotel room, biting her lip as she surveyed the disaster around them: unfamiliar business attire spilling out of the wrong suitcases, the single hotel bed that wasn’t quite the dreamy suite she’d imagined, and their lack of phones.

“Okay, we need a plan,” Alessia muttered. “We can’t just sit here doing nothing.”

Y/N, sprawled across the bed with an exasperated look, held up the hotel room phone. “We could try calling someone?”

“Like who? Everyone’s away on their own little trips,” Alessia replied, but a small glint of hope flickered in her eyes.

“What about Katie?” Y/N suggested. “i think she said something about taking Cait to greece during the break, and I’m sure she’d love the excuse to make fun of us for this.”

With a smirk, Alessia took the phone and dialed the number she knew by heart. After a few rings, a familiar voice crackled on the other end.

“Hello?” came Katie’s slightly groggy voice.

“Katie, it’s Alessia,” she said, her voice a mix of desperation and relief.

“Less? Where the hell are you calling from?” Katie’s voice perked up, clearly curious.

“Long story short, we missed our flight, we’re in the wrong country, and we have someone else’s suitcases. Oh, and our phones are somewhere in a taxi. We need help,” Alessia admitted, holding back laughter at how ridiculous it sounded all put together.

The silence on the other end lasted for a second, and then came a loud burst of laughter.

“Oh my god, you two! Only you could turn a holiday into the plot of a rom-com!” Katie laughed. “Alright, I’m coming to get you. What hotel are you at?”

Alessia fumbled with the keycard and relayed the name of the place, barely managing to pronounce it through her nervous giggles. “We’re…at some budget hotel, Katie. It’s not what I had planned, trust me.”

“I bet it’s not. But hey, look on the bright side,” Katie teased, “at least you two are safe and sound, right? And now we can finally go on that double date you guys have been avoiding”

Katie promised to sort everything out,for the price of an all expenses paid boujie double dinner date, and after an hour of waiting and a few more laughs, Alessia and Y/N spotted her at the hotel entrance, an unmistakable smirk on her face as she spotted them.

“Alright, you two clowns, hop in,” she said, patting the hood of her rented car. “And let’s salvage whatever’s left of this holiday.”

As they piled into the car, Katie handed them each a phone she’d picked up from a nearby shop. “Prepaid. Just in case you two lose them again,” she said with a wink.

They made a quick detour to grab clothes and essentials from a local store, Katie playfully holding up outrageous outfits to make them laugh.

As they finally arrived at a beach resort she’d booked last-minute, Katie sighed, grinning at the relieved looks on their faces. “See? Nothing a bit of Irish luck can’t fix. Now go relax.”

Alessia and Y/N wrapped her in a grateful hug, unable to contain their laughter. Katie smirked, pretending to brush them off, but the warmth in her eyes gave her away.

“Go on, enjoy your holiday, you goofs,” she said with a chuckle.

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The End

#offside story #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso x reader #woso #woso soccer #alessia russo x reader #alessia russo x y/n #alessia russo

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burnyouwithacigarettelighter · 1 year ago

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TAKE YOU DOWN A PEG ─── neil lewis ✧𖦹

ೃ⁀➷ “I want you. Your bones. Your body heat. The bite marks your teeth leave. To see how bad and beautiful those eyes look beneath me." — Beau Taplin.

pairing. sub!neil lewis x reader

summary. gumshoe video’s got a rude customer who neil can’t seem to ban…

warnings. swearing, voyeurism, unprotected sex, creampie, p in v, semi-public sex, breathplay, oral sex (m), cockwarming, degradation/insults, SMUT UNDER THE CUT!

word count. 5.3k

a/n. the hardest thing about writing this was scouring letterboxd for obscure films that i think neil would foam over. pls don’t beat me to death if my film references miss the mark 😭

Neil loves his job. Seriously, seriously, he does. It's completely self-satisfying, his personal passion project that’s taken up a large amount of his life, and brings him the uttermost joy of allowing him to do what he does best: recommend films.

Gumshoe Video is like his fucking baby, and he takes care of it, immensely; he wipes down every tape every Sunday, he sweeps the floor and rearranges the furniture, he organizes the tapes almost constantly, and he does his hardest to provide stellar, passionate - if almost annoying - film advice. He wants the reviews up on this place, alright, otherwise it feels like he’s letting his baby down.

Now, if there’s one thing Neil hates about his job, just one minor, teensy weensy thing, it’s probably you. You, the rude customer who came in three months ago and has come in everyday since.

The day you and Neil Lewis met was one just like the rest. Gumshoe Video was promoting old spaghetti westerns; Neil was wearing a cowboy hat and opening deliveries from a video tape shop in Calabasas that had closed down; you were coming off work and were daydreaming, dizzily entering shops to get your mind off the irritatingly mundane job you had. Unlike Neil, you fucking hate your job.

You had entered Gumshoe, browsing lazily through the Film Noir section, when Neil sprung up like a weed behind you, speaking animatedly about how the best film noir’s had to be Casablanca, Sunset Boulevard, or Double Indemnity, and if you’d ever watched them before.

As Neil blabbered on, your left eyebrow became increasingly raised. Finally having enough of him, you spoke. “So, are you one of those guys that talk all over the girl and ask them if they’ve ever seen Citizen Kane, or if I can even name five Ingmar Bergman movies for you?”

Neil spluttered, flustered with being confronted about his obsessive cinephile talking habit of carrying the conversation away like a track runner in a relay race going off with the baton in the wrong direction. “What? I was just —“

“— name dropping film noir’s, ‘cause I’m some ditzy, uncultured bimbo bitch who mistakenly walked in, right?” You said, rolling your eyes. Later, in retrospect, you’ll wonder if you were too rude; then, you’ll remember you don’t give a fuck, you were having a bad day, and Neil Lewis had one hell of an annoying face.

Neil’s face grew offended, an irritated furrowed brow wiggling onto his features. “If you don’t want to watch what I recommend, you don’t have to!” he exclaimed, arms up placatingly in the air.

“Uh huh, okay, and you don’t have to shove your pretentious cinephile knowledge up my ass.”

He just stared at you, boring his bright blue eyes into your own, face contorted so exasperatedly you might as well have climbed up to the stars, plucked the moon from the sky, and used it as a pillow.

My god, Neil thought. Are you just a rude customer? Or did you get off on berating small businesses like a sadistic freak?

After a moment of you two staring each other down in the fluorescent artificial light of Gumshoe, both looking terribly affronted, you left.

Neil would then rant about this “insane customer” for at least twelve hours straight to anyone who’d liste. The next day, the distasteful experience was extremely close to thereby fully exiting his mind, but didn’t, because you, yes, you, walked in again.

You shot straight daggers with your eyes at Neil, but your expression became soft, demure, and gentle when you saw Jonathan manning the register instead. You trailed through the aisles unperturbed, Jonathan too busy sporting a hangover from working the late shift at that obscure speakeasy copycat bar (in which, as often as possible, he would sneak a shot to stay awake) to recommend films.

In any case, that was Neil’s job, and Jonathan leaned over to whisper in his ear: “Neil, man, do me a favor and please distract that customer -- fuck, this headache’s killing me…”

Neil protested, shaking his head rapidly. “That’s her.”

“Her who?”

“Her! The - customer who -- who yelled at me!”

Jonathan blinked blearily, clearly still too incapacitated to think about the matter much. “She yelled at you… and she’s back. Here. And why exactly is that…?”

“To yell at me s’more, probably!” Neil whisper-shouted incredulously.

Suddenly, you broke Neil and Jonathan out of their not-so-quiet argument by slamming down Gumshoe Video’s copies of Casablanca, Sunset Boulevard, and Double Indemnity. The irony did not miss Neil - honestly, it was a little on the nose, even for him.

“Thought I’d see what all the rage was.” you explained “sweetly”, gesturing to Neil as you spoke, indignation seeping through your every word. Your grudge was, well, mostly unexplained, ‘cept for the fact you yourself were an avid cinephile, had watched those three movies more than you could count, and did not take Neil’s “have you watched these before” kindly.

Thus started you and Neil’s long-winded rivalry slash animosity slash terribly caustic back-and-forth correspondence.

You keep coming to Gumshoe Video, because, despite your anger towards Neil, you fucking adore the place. The films are downright amazing, the atmosphere is like fucking heaven with the walls lined full of video tapes, decorated in classic film props, campy lifesize cardboard cutouts making you jump at every turn, and Gumshoe Video’s concept is insanely different (and lightyears better) than the corporate monolith that is Media Giant.

He keeps coming to Gumshoe Video because, again, Neil loves his job, and treats Gumshoe like he carried it for nine months and has been lovingly raising it for the five years it's been open.

From that first incident, you and Neil’s relationship twisted a little into something like this: you come in, insult him on whatever costume he’s wearing, return the tapes you rented the other night, argue with him for exactly an hour and a half on the couch, insult him for another ten as you browse the store, ignore his film recommendations, and rent three more movies.

He waits for you to enter, wears the ugliest costume he owns to visually assault you, gladly takes the tapes back, argues with you for 1 and ½ hours, fires back retorts as you insult him, recommends movies he thinks will make you jump out your apartment window, and gives you your movies.

You’re the minor, teensy weensy headache Neil experiences everyday, but at least, at the very least, Gumshoe makes daily dollars from your rentals - kinda like the payback or relief fund a town gets after a hurricane’s run through it.

But, (somewhat?) shamefully… there’s a reason Neil doesn’t just ban you from the store and live his life without ever thinking of you again.

This reason occurred to him a month ago, when he was in the backroom, pasting barcodes and information stickers on tapes that were yet to be placed in the store. You were looking for the washroom, awkwardly stumbling through the back hallway of Gumshoe Video, and since you couldn’t find Neil — he, in spite of the nature of your relationship, trusted you to look around and rent the tapes by yourself, having done it several times while arguing with him at the counter — you had to brave through it alone.

Now, the thing about the room Neil was in — more of a shoe closet than a room, honestly — was that it was locked from the outside, and he didn’t have the key. The key was currently in the hands of one Lucien, who had gone to buy takeout for the two of them because of the late night cataloging of new tapes ahead of them.

And… he was taking about a hundred years to come back because he was trying to get the cashier’s number at their usual Chinese restaurant.

Anyway, imagine this: you’re looking for the washroom, and the door to a small room is propped open. You enter, don’t think much of the small stack of empty tape boxes acting as a door stopper, and let it close. The light in there is dim, just a shitty little ceiling light; Neil turns, tapes in his hand; you turn, after closing the door.

Finally, remember: the room is more of a shoe closet than a room.

“Jesus -- christ!” Neil yelped, startled at your sudden appearance. “What -- the hell are you doing here?”

“I take it this isn’t the bathroom?” You murmured, ignoring his question and shifting uncomfortably. Seriously, the tape closet was only meant for one person in it at a time.

If the lights were brighter, you would’ve seen how hard Neil rolled his eyes; they almost rolled out of his head. “Well, I don’t think so, given the lack of toilet, sink, and light, no.”

“Well, Neil,” you purred, hot breath curling around the sensitive skin of his neck, “maybe, just maybe, you should have a sign for the bathroom, so I don’t have my tits any closer to your face than I want them to.” You said this sweetly, voice husky, low, and oddly sultry, but Neil knew better than that: you probably wanted to fucking kill him right now.

You were right, though; your tits were flush Neil’s bandy chest, the heat between you two growing the longer you were this close in proximity.

“Now get me out of here,” you said quickly after, ignoring how warm Neil felt against your body. You’d turned so your back faced him, hands twisting at the silver knob of the door - which, Neil honestly didn’t know why was there, considering it didn’t fucking work.

Neil sighed. “The door locks from the outside.”

“What?” You said, distracted by leaning down to press your weight against the door like it was just sticky. Moments later, “…What?” you all but shrieked, hands falling from the knob, turning to face him once more.

And, again, if the lights were brighter you’d have seen Neil’s face better: he was bright fucking red, because, apparently not accounting for the small space of the room, you’d leaned and obliviously had your ass pressed right against him. It didn’t help that his large, warm hands, having long since dropped the tapes he was labeling, hung near the flesh of your rear, having nowhere else to go in the limited space.

Neil thanked the small mercy God graced upon him that there wasn’t any kind of friction, so his soft cock remained just that: soft, and barely noticed by you.

“The door locks from the outside.” Neil repeated breathlessly, the amount of air in the shoe-box room being incredibly small, too small to share between the two of you.

“Fucking…” You cursed under your breath, shaking your head in disbelief. “So, what, we have to stay here ‘till someone busts us out? What’re you gonna do if I go batshit and eat you or something?”

“For one, Lucien isn’t going to take that long to come back. Anyway, why’re you assuming you’ll overpower me - what if I go batshit and tear into you?”

You snorted, like the connotation he could overpower you was completely implausible. “Neil, Neil, Neil,” you repeated nonsensically, before lifting a hand up to his shoulder and digging your nails into him, the fabric of his shirt obviously not thick enough to distort your strength. “I could have you pinned down in less than a minute. I do other things than watch movies all day, unlike your lanky ass.”

Neil merely let out a chagrined laugh in response, hands clammy at the thought: you pinning him down— he then shook himself mentally, about to slap himself upside the head. Fucking hell, this situation was doing things to him.

“You don’t believe me?” You retorted with a raised brow. Swiftly, your hands curled around Neil’s wrists, pinning them behind him and pressing his back against you. “How about now, huh?” you whispered softly in his ear, making his head swim.

Your chin rested on his shoulder, your nose brushing against his neck, and it took everything in Neil not to let out a breathy keen — this was all too much for him: your touch, your voice, and the apparent dawning on him that he found you terribly, massively, attractive.

“Fuck, I, er - - um,” Neil scrambled for a response, when the door to the tape closet suddenly opened. Your hands released him immediately, and you strided out, breathing in deeply.

On the other side stood Lucien, plastic takeout bag in one hand, closet key in the other. “What happened to you?” he asked confusedly, as Neil filed out after you, gaze trained on your stretching figure walking off.

“We got, uh -- locked, in the- in the tape closet.” Neil murmured, thoughts still fuzzy from your rough touch.

“With her?” Lucien shuddered, handing Neil the chinese takeout bag sympathetically. “You need this food more than I do.”

So, there it was. Neil’s reason. He would’ve called you an insufferable bitch that he never wanted to see enter Gumshoe Video ever again hundreds of times by now — if your sensual voice insulting him didn’t get him all tight in the pants.

He began having thoughts — thoughts of you. You, whispering vulgar, humiliating words in his ear, your hands carding his hair, pulling tight against his scalp, selfishly making him do whatever you wanted him to do, no matter his pleas.

The fantasy was unlike anything Neil had dreamed up before, having always believed it should be him on top, him controlling the situation, him dominating — but it wasn’t a bad one. He’d come faster than he ever did before, just by imagining you were rolling your hips into his own… your strength pinning him down… your lips brushing past the shell of his ear, telling him he was so fucking dirty, so filthy for being this needy.

However, that was all just a vague, distant pipedream, especially with how you seem to actually hate him. All the interaction he’d had with you consisted of poisonous, irritated words, insults and curses — which had him feeling both incredibly turned on, and sick at the fact he was attracted to you just by being mean to him.

Sometime after that, nearing the end of the work day, Neil was the only one left there: Jonathan had taken the morning shift, and Lucien was, surprisingly, on a date with the cashier at their usual Chinese restaurant place. Looks like he succeeded in getting her number, while Neil had been pressed against you in that tiny tape closet, moments away from getting a hard-on.

So, Neil was the only one there - and you were the only customer there. Your daily routine of stopping by and verbally attacking him was late today, so it was nearing midnight when you and Neil sat on the couch and began arguing.

“I’m sure your “manly” ego isn’t at all pathetic and easily hurt by the superiority of Mia Farrow’s performance in Rosemary’s Baby.” You spat, leaning into the diverse array of old throw pillows that sat on the couch day after day.

Neil rolled his eyes, hands up in the air animatedly. “My manly ego - and I don’t enjoy the sarcasm nor the air quotes you’re using - isn’t pathetic, nor easily hurt! Mia Farrow just wasn’t better than John Cassavetes was. I stand by the fact they were equal.”

You let out a disbelieving laugh, your hand coming down on Neil’s knee to dig into him angrily. “Neil, I don’t expect you to understand her performance - I don’t think anyone does, not with that little cinephile brain you have. Do you do any thinking up there, or is it just The Treasure of the Sierra Madre on rewind?”

Neil flushed, both at the insults and how your hand was on his fucking leg. “What about you? What is it that makes you keep coming back here if you think my opinion is so… worthless and entitled?”

You grit your teeth, leaning in closer to him. “Because, Neil, this is the only other video tape shop for miles, and I will not be caught dead at Media Giant. Trust me, I despise this - “arrangement” of ours, far more than you do.”

He huffed, his gaze trailing over your features, unable to come up with a response: he was too busy focussing, trying not to zero in on how your face was inches away from one his, your fingers oddly inching up his thigh.

“Don’t go making this about me. Why is it,” your continued, hands traced dizzying circles into the fabric of his jeans, “that you don’t just kick me out? I come in here, day after day, berating you, ignoring your recommendations… shouldn’t I have been banned a long time ago?”

Neil gulped. “You’re still a - a customer, one who rents daily I might add—“

You smirked up at him. “Don’t lie to me. I know Gumshoe’s doing just fine… and I heard you, y’know? Last week… in your office.”

“What? What are you talking about?” He stammered out, racking his head for what he might’ve been doing in his office— fuck.

Fuck, he thought, mind racing rapidly, he thought you had already left by the time he started—

“I heard you, hiding in your office… stroking yourself, moaning my name.”

You’d rented just one tape last Friday, for a movie date with a guy from work, and you almost left - before realizing Neil took your membership card and never gave it back. You waltzed back in, and to your obvious surprise, Neil wasn’t at the register.

“Neil?” You called out softly, trying not to spark an argument with him that would span hours, because you were trying to show up to this date on time.

You walked down the back hallway, and found his office door, which had a gleaming NEIL LEWIS printed on its foggy glass.

Your hand had almost reached for the handle, his name on the tip of your tongue, when you heard a needy whine slip past the door. Shocked, you lingered and pulled your hand away, pressing your ear against the pane to listen closer.

“God, fuck,” you heard Neil curse, his name slipping from your lips like a prayer. “Need you so bad,” you heard him whisper to no-one but himself, before a low moan belted out of him.

Your face grew warm, immediately, flushed at the news that Neil-fuckin’-Lewis was jerking off, in his office, mumbling your name. You squeezed your eyes shut, continuing to listen to his pretty voice, and after several moments of your lust-riddled mind drinking in his sweet noises, how he was so focussed on his pleasure while completely oblivious to your listening in, you found one of your hands coming up to tweak your erect nipple — fuck, his stuttered little moans had your cunt pulsing with utter need.

Neil was getting close, you could tell, hearing him buck into - what you assumed - was his wooden desk, sloppily muffled mewls leaving his mouth.

You were biting down on your lip, hard, an incredible amount of self control in place. The man was so horny, sounding so fucking submissive it drove you insane: just the thought that he’d bend to your will and do whatever you wanted made your legs clench.

Fortunately, or unfortunately, depending who you ask, you felt your phone begin buzzing in the waistband of your modesty shorts - probably the date you were late for - and you had quickly fled.

“Oh, jesus,” Neil blurted out now, alarmed, immediately in the flight part of fight or flight. “I- whatever you heard, I can - I can explain, really, so please don’t—“

Your hand gripped his thigh, keeping him from getting up. “Hey, hey, shh,” you said, bringing a finger to your lips. “You don’t have to explain yourself. I know, just as well as you do, how bad you want me.”

Truly, Neil couldn’t control himself that night. You had walked in, wearing a delicious little dress with a sweetheart neckline, strolling around in 3-inch heels, cooing mockingly at his costume for that week’s theme — a criminal wearing nifty little handcuffs to promote the double feature promotion of crime films and dramas — purposely leaning down to make him feel smaller than you.

Neil had flushed, looking away, willing himself not to let out a needy groan at your get-up, instead silently checking out your tape rentals and quickly handing them back to you. After you’d walked out of the store, he’d dashed to his office, feeling the tent in his pants grow warm, aching.

Quite similarly to how he felt now, your eyes coursing over his entire form, so close Neil felt himself sinking into the couch.

“Look how fucking hard you are already.” you whispered, hand drawing away from his thigh and reaching for the bulge in his jeans, palming him between the fabric. “Does it turn you on? The fact you got caught?”

Neil’s breath hitched. “Fuck, please, I—“

“You’re so pathetic.” You said, laughing at him. “I can feel how big you are, such a thick cock, and all you know how to do with it is beg.”

Your plush lips were curled into a cheshire grin, baring your sharp teeth at him, and Neil was ashamed at how badly he wanted those teeth to press painful bites into his sensitive skin.

He was about to whine again, plead desperately, but he shut up when you slipped off the couch, sinking to your knees, fingers undoing his belt buckle and fly. Shifting his jeans down, you dipped your hand down the waistband of his boxers and pulled his cock out: it was angry, hard and begging for release.

But you wanted to tease him before you got to the good part. First, your warm breath fanned over his cock, making him jump, trying to rut up into your mouth, and your soft lips slipping past his leaking head had his hands tugging at your hair, trying to pull you closer to him.

You thinned your eyes and got up, hand pressing his cheeks together and forcing his jaw open. You spit into his mouth, then patronizingly patted his face, “Do that again and I won’t touch you - I’ll take my tapes and leave you a needy fucking mess on this couch.”

Neil groaned, your spit foreign and hot on his tongue like lava. “God, I… I just wanna — want you so bad.”

You tutted, sinking back down on your knees to face his rock hard length up and pressed flat against his abdomen. “Not yet. You haven’t earned it, you desperate fucking pervert. D’you know who jerks off in their office to someone they barely know? Fucking perverts.”

He leaned his head back, a moan leaving his lips at your insulting choice of words. It felt like you were torturing him, but his body wanted nothing more than you.

Your lips then ghosted past him for another moment before you started your assault on his strained cock: you laid tentative kitten licks all the way down his length, enjoying how he squirmed under you, wanting nothing more but your wet mouth around him. Then, without warning, you took him in your mouth whole, tongue dragging and curling around his cock. You devoured him salaciously, hollowing your cheeks, sliding his cock in and out of your full mouth at an alarming speed, hitting the back of your neck with each thrust.

Your tongue felt heavenly on his cock: wet, warm, and sticky, lapping at him without stopping. Your teeth grazed against him lightly, and Neil’s back arched into your touch.

He was practically convulsing now, drooling as his eyes rolled to the back of his head at the pure pleasure you were inflicting on him with no split second or moment for him to regain his composure. You wanted to see him fall apart, come undone just by your mouth, he realized, and he wanted to let you, wanted to let go — but, as fast as you’d taken his hard cock into your mouth, you let him drop from your lips.

“Why did you - please, fuck -- why did you stop?!” Neil whimpered noisily, head rolling onto his chest to look down at your face: lips plump, faint tear tracks running off your cheeks, your gagged spit falling from your chin.

“I oughta take you down a peg, Neil. Show you what a dumb fucking loser you are, pretending you’re so confident, so dominant, like you know everything there is about movies.” You responded nonchalantly, getting up and shedding your panties and leggings.

“M’not dumb,” he whined, looking at you through heavy lidded eyes, “god, you’re killing me here.”

“You’ll live,” you grinned, climbing on his lap and lining your wet sex with the fat head of his cock. Then you descended down on him, watching blissfully as his cock disappeared into your folds.

Neil’s hands wrapped around your waist, burying his face into your neck. He mewled against your skin, drunk on your tantalizing scent, lips wet with drool and leaving a slick trail.

Despite your dominance in this situation, completely controlling Neil’s pleasure, you couldn’t control your own: Neil’s cock felt fucking good, long and thick in all the right places, a curve that arched right against your cervix, veins rubbing against your walls pleasantly. He stretched your cunt completely, making you wince, but there was still pleasure there, the feeling of your crevices being filled with his fat cock making your toes curl.

After a moment of getting used to his cock, you rose back up, then sunk down, your hands gripping his shoulders for dear life. Neil’s head shot back, a labored cry leaving him as you set a steady, almost too slow pace, torturously sliding his cock in and out of your tight hole.

Your hands trailed across his still-clothed chest, and you grieved the chance lost to have stripped him, your touch teasing him every step of the way — but having him deep within you was probably better.

“Your- fuck, you’re so -- so soft,” Neil squeaked below you, revelling in how you took him, bottoming out each time like it was nothing.

You simpered at his words, how helpless he was, succumbing to the pleasure; to you. “Knew you were,” you slammed down on his cock, making Neil choke, “pretending to be arrogant. You just needed someone to put you in your place.”

Neil hadn’t realized it wasn’t a rhetorical question until your hand came up to his hair, tangling through his locks and tugging. “Who d’you belong to? Who put you in your place?” you murmured lowly.

He whimpered at your roughness, leaning into the sofa obediently. “You! You own me,” he pleaded, desperately chasing his own pleasure.

“That’s it,” you said, shutting your eyes, bobbing up and down on his cock faster. Your ass bounced above him, and Neil’s hands rested on the flesh of your rear, massaging you.

Greedily, Neil tried to thrust into you, but you weren’t having any of it, deterring his attempts by pushing him so he laid flat on the couch, your hands pinning his wrists above his head, the new position pushing him deeper into you.

“You stay down, you dirty fuckin’ loser,” you said caustically, but your actions said otherwise: your walls were squeezing around him needily, your cunt sucking him in so far you could feel his balls brushing against your clit.

The tip of his cock brushed past your g-spot each time you rutted into him, and soon enough you felt it: that pulsing, that heat, that familiar coiling within your insides. Neil was reaching it too, his face flushed pink and his breathing as heavy as it was back then, in the tape closet.

You began thumping down on him, your fingers tightening around his scalp. Your pace had gotten feverish, bordering feral, both your minds focussed on one thing: release. You could feel your cunt tensing, your mind going foggy, and then, there it was: your pleasure ran through you like electric current, shocking your body. You felt numb, tingly like when the blood flow to your arm gets cut off for a moment, making your pace stutter.

You didn’t stop, however, riding out your high on his cock, bouncing up and down on Neil’s thick length. He felt fucking delicious, piercing you in all the right ways, and you adored how malleable he was right now: so horny and submissive he stopped speaking and was merely letting dirty moans leave his mouth without any protest. His gaze, his focus, was elsewhere, lost in the deep haze of pleasure your cunt was subjecting him too.

You leaned down, pressing small love-bites onto his skin like he’d fantasized so many times before, and it broke him out of his stupor. “Did you think of this, in your office?” you whispered, “did you think of me, my tits bouncing, your cock deep in my cunt?”

“Ugh,” Neil groaned, reveling in how your seductive voice sounded like music. He was much, much closer than he thought, and when you licked up his jaw, your hot breath on the shell of his ear making him sweat, your cunt still fucking him roughly, he let go.

You felt it first, the familiar liquid bursting past his thick head and painting your fleshy walls creamy, like a new coat of alabaster that Gumshoe desperately needed.

“So good, so wet,” Neil groaned, shutting his eyes and pressing his forehead to yours. You stared at him, watching his lewd expression throughout his entire high, waiting for that beautiful blue gaze of his to open and face you again.

“I’m milking you dry. Look how fucking full you’ve made me, you filthy pervert.” You were taking him for every drop he could offer, and it was delectable.

You two were heaving now, both coming down from your highs. You’d effectively ruined the couch, your slick soaking the cushions and his jeans, as well as his come, which was leaning out of your still-stuffed hole.

“I think you’ve gotta replace this manky ass couch, Neil,” was the first thing you said, your hands sliding down from their grip in his hair to his pink cheeks, rubbing his skin delicately.

His eyes opened, watching you carefully. “It was about time,” Neil shrugged breathlessly. “Do you… do you actually - hate me?” he continued, murmuring self-consciously.

You laughed, but it wasn’t sharp, not at him like before, no; it was tender, like a scarf Neil wanted to wrap around him in the winter time.

“I never hated you,” you murmured, tone reverent, “you’re just a little, how does it go…”

“Presumptuous?” Neil finished for you.

You nodded, then grasped at his shirt and pulled him from the couch so he was sitting upright again. “Jus’ wanted to, ahem, “take you down a peg” like I said earlier..” you trailed off, cheeks growing warm remembering your earlier behavior during sex.

This was all very new, to the both of you — you, in all your relationships and flings, were not the dominant partner. You guessed there was a first time for everything.

Then, you were about to get off his lap, but Neil held you steady on his cock. “Don’t go,” he said simply. “I’ve got Brief Encounter in the player, if you want to, y’know…”

He wasn’t hard anymore, but it just felt good, cozy, having you two talk and regain your composure with him filling you nicely. It felt right.

You smiled, a gummy, blissful smile. “Okay. I’ve actually never seen this,” you said, turning to face the tv, wincing slightly.

“Really?” Neil said, an amazed joy seeping into his voice.

“I’m joking,” you snorted, and you could practically see Neil pouting behind you. “But I don’t think we’ll be paying much attention…” you purred, clenching your thighs around his length.

“Jesus fuck,” Neil groaned behind you, hands coming under your shirt, “you’re exactly like those movies.”

“I’m even better, baby.”

#cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #neil lewis x reader #watching the detectives #neil lewis smut #sub!neil lewis x reader

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dilatorywriting · 2 years ago

Text

Monster Mayhem: Donkeys & Dragons

Gender Neutral Reader x Malleus Draconia Word Count: 3.0k

Summary: In which your friends are idiots who think gallivanting around a haunted castle surrounded by lava is a great idea. And then there's a dragon.

ie. Or, I watched Shrek this afternoon and could not stop thinking about the memes of the Prefect being Donkey and Malleus as the Dragon.

[PART 1] [PART 2] [PART 3] [PART 4] [EPILOGUE]

‘Treasure beyond your wildest dreams!’ Ace said.

‘Knowledge long since lost to time!’ Deuce corrected.

‘Yeah, okay, but what is it,’ you asked.

And neither of them had an answer.

Abandoned castles suspended over a sea of bubbling lava were not your preferred holiday destination. You’d told Ace this several times. You’d begged, pleaded, to please just be normal for once. But noooo. Both the snarky, ginger, bastard and the other half of his singular brain cell had apparently decided that suicide ala boiling rocks sounded like a perfectly lovely plan for your Saturday evening.

“I’m just saying,” you huffed as the rope bridge swung worryingly beneath your feet, “taverns are a thing. Faires. Market runs. Casual side quests that won’t wind up with us being flambeed alive.”

“But there’s treasure!” Ace complained, the muddled light off the lava below illuminating his pout in a way that made it look especially punchable. “I heard there’s this really awesome magical sword! Or maybe it was a shield or something—”

“Or something,” you grit out. “What if it’s a book, huh? You can’t even read.”

“We can try!” Deuce returned, a spark of that familiar determination zipping through his blue eyes.

“Or we can sell it,” Ace said, which was certainly the more likely option of the two.

One of the rickety, wooden, slats cracked beneath the low heel of your boot and tumbled down into the lava below. Maybe it hit the gurgling pool of death with a hiss, or a whump, or some other cool sound. But all you could hear was the ringing in your ears.

“Oh my god. I’m going to die.”

“I mean, maybe,” Ace shrugged. “But at least you’ll have a cool new sword propped up at your grave or something.”

You managed to make it all the way to the other side of the horrible death bridge without plummeting to your doom. Except now you were standing at the foot an equally horrifying castle. It was massive—grand on a scale that seemed entirely impossible for something constructed in the heart of a volcano. Its dozens of ebony spires clawed at the sky. The walls crawled with grey ivy and thickets of thorns so dense that you couldn’t see even the barest hint of brick beneath. It looked evil in the way that cursed tombs felt evil—eternal, and still, and oppressive. Like a creature in its own right rather than just an agglomeration of black stone.

Ace drew his sword and Deuce readied his axe. You sighed and plucked at the strings of your stupid fucking lute, and wished once more that you’d had the foresight all those moons ago to take the cushy internship position Lord Crewel had tried to offer you. But, no. You’d wanted to be an adventurer.

The massive double doors of the entrance swung open with an eerie groan. A pair of stern looking gargoyles stood guard as the three of you cautiously made your way into the castle. You swore you could feel their eyes following you—that you’d seen them flex jagged claws into their stone perches in an aborted attempt to dive after you.

The inside of the looming fortress was no more welcoming than out. Dark, emerald, stained glass windows lined the walls—smothering any of the warmer light from the volcano and tinting the entire hall a sickly green-grey. The stone floors and walls were elaborately carved with the faded stories of dynasties long since passed, but what had once surely been immaculate craftsmanship had shifted and cracked with age—crushing floors into tight slopes and littering already narrow walkways with heavy debris.

“We just have to find the tallest tower,” Ace hummed, swiping at a few dangling trails of thorns with the blunted edge of his blade. “And then the highest room in that.”

“The treasure is never in the highest room in the tallest tower,” you complained. “You just heard that in a drinking song once.”

“Is that true?” Deuce frowned, looking terribly betrayed.

“No way!” Ace snipped. “I told you! An old crone read my fortune in her bone dice, and she said to always check the highest room in the tallest tower! Because that’s where I’d find my greatest treasure!”

“Maybe the greatest treasure is the friends we’ve made along the way?” Deuce suggested helpfully.

“No.”

So you split off from a grouchy Ace and dejected Deuce to try and find some stairs. Every room in this stupid castle was swimming in so many shadows that you could hardly tell right from left, let alone if there were any kinds of secret doors or passageways that may lead to an equally secret tower. The chamber you’d found yourself in now was gigantic, and each tentative step you took echoed discordantly through the ashy gloom. You kicked miserably at a loose rock and it skittered off into the darkness with a dull thunk. And then something… odd, began to happen. That darkness began to move—to rise and unfurl like a great set of wings on a beast. And—oh. Oh no.

“Would you look at that,” Ace whistled under his breath, neck craned all the way back as he squinted at what was most definitely the tallest of all the towers this creepy castle had to offer. “Guess what, nonbelievers. I found the—”

“DRAGON!”

Whoosh went the great swathe of emerald fire as it exploded down the barren hallway and nipped at your heels. You dove out into the open courtyard just in time to avoid being roasted alive, and the gargantuan monster behind you let out a roar fit to shake the earth. A quick tuck-and-roll left you crouched behind a fallen pillar, and the dragon’s bright, green, glower turned on you and your garbage hiding spot with a rumbling snarl. Its rows of sharp, white, teeth closing just above your head—missing its mark by barely a hair’s width.

“Gotcha!” Deuce snarled, his armored fists dragging the dragon away by its tail. Or, well, tried to. Because the dragon was a hundred feet long at least, and your blue haired friend probably looked like nothing more than a pesky rat darting between its feet. It turned and snapped at him irritably, taking a great, big, step forward in a bid to get a firmer stance to attack. You threw yourself in the other direction to avoid being trampled.

“Go!” Ace called, charging in from the other side. “Quick!”

Because at the end of the day, they were still both your brave, tanky, warrior, friends. And you were just a very, very, squishy bard who really would not fare well against a particularly motivated goose, let alone a dragon. So you skidded through the rubble and onto your feet, and started to sprint back into the castle’s halls—hoping maybe you’d be able to find a bit more cover.

There was a great clatter, and both Ace and Deuce yelped. You looked back hurriedly to see the pair of them clutching onto the dragon’s tail for dear life as it whipped them back and forth through the ash and debris cluttering the ground. With one, final, great, sweep, the dragon pitched them into the air and sent them careening through the roof of that ‘tallest tower.’ You muttered a hasty incantation and the sparkling outlines of soft feathers danced along your fingers. You hoped you weren’t too far. You were probably too goddamn far. But you hummed frantically under your breath nonetheless and entreated your middling magic to give them a soft landing.

And then there was another wave of green hellfire raining down over your head and you turned and ran.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck—

Even if you’d been a champion sprinter, there was little good it would have done you against a beast whose stride was longer than you were tall. You made it back into some hall or other, and into another cavernous room, and then you were pinned into a corner—the dragon looming over you like a vengeful wraith come to take its due.

It was gigantic. Probably the biggest creature you’d ever seen. And it was sleek—all lithe muscle and glossy rows of black scales that glittered oddly in the dull, grey, light. Its wings spread wide behind it, spanning the entirety of the vast chamber. They looked like the sort of wings that could stir up a hurricane. The curling horns atop its head seemed sharp enough to gore a man or twenty, and the purple crests lining its skull were tapered down flat in a way that reminded you a bit deliriously of a pissy cat pinning its ears back before it swatted at you.

Its lips curled back over pointed canines as it snarled at you, and you were showered in a swathe of hot sparks.

“Oh, what large teeth you have,” you squeaked, and when the dragon dipped closer to bellow into your face, your reeled back with a splutter. “I—I mean white, sparkling, teeth!” you rattled, nearly incoherent. The dragon’s snout twitched away, almost like you’d startled it. “I mean, I’m sure you hear this all the time from your food, but—wow! Just! Very lovely! Definitely the prettiest smile I’ll ever be eaten by!”

Slowly it lowered its great head, and you could see the neon glare from its narrowed eyes.

“Not that you have to eat me,” you added hurriedly, hoping to whatever Gods could hear you that your smart mouth could finally be useful for more than just talking circles around assholes in bars or weaseling your friends out of shitty contracts. “I’d very much like not to be eaten. But all the same, we did intrude in your home—and it’s definitely a very nice home—so I’d totally get it. And I guess if I did have to die today, knowing that my life would be in the hands of something so magnificent is certainly reassuring.”

The dragon seemed to preen a bit at that. You could see the sharp crests beneath its horns soften as tension bled from the beast’s posture. It ducked in close again, and this time you felt a sharp pull of air rush past your cheeks as it sniffed you. Its nostrils were the size your head—bigger even, maybe. You didn’t want to think about it, but the dry heat of its breath puffing into your face made the entire thing a bit hard to ignore.

“Did I mention what a charming home you have?” you rambled on. “Very aesthetic. The gargoyles at the gate were a lovely touch.”

The dragon made a low, warbling, noise in its throat that wasn’t quite a growl, but wasn’t particularly… reassuring, either. It made the hair on the back of your neck stand on end.

It ducked away—not far, just enough to reach one of the large, carved, walls at the outskirts of the room. Its long neck slithered out before pausing pointedly over an archway. It took you a long moment to realize it was gesturing to something. Another gargoyle from the looks of things—this one almost entirely crumbled away under the strains of time. You could just barely make out the shape of its square jaw and taloned fingers.

You nodded so hard you nearly gave yourself whiplash.

“Yes! I see! Very beautiful! Such fine craftsmanship!”

The dragon cooed at you. Swear on your life and all the money in your back packet. An actual, honest to God, coo. Fuck, maybe you’d managed to charm your way out of imminent dismemberment and death after all.

It ambled closer once again, a curiosity lighting its eyes and warming those neon irises into something that was less poisonous-hell-fire and more mellow-evening-in-the-forest.

Amidst all the rippling waves of ebony scales, your eyes caught on the smallest smear of crimson. Just a touch of red—right along the spikes of its tail. Carefully, cautiously, slower than molasses, you stepped forward with your hands raised. You whispered a handful of familiar words under your breath and your palms glowed fuzzy and blue. Dragons were supposed to be inherently magical, right? So this one would certainly understand that the string of syllables you’d babbled out were good, and helpful, and not at all a provocation. The dragon was looking down at you with lidded eyes, its gaze a bit unfocused. You gulped.

“I’m sorry my friends messed with your tail,” you apologized, gingerly holding your fingers out to hover over the abrasions without actually touching. “They were just trying to protect me. If—if that makes it any better.” The minuscule wound began to knit itself back together neatly beneath the pulses of your magic. “I do tend to need a lot of protecting—I’m not much a warrior, if that wasn’t completely obvious by the everything about me—so I can’t really blame them for being a bit gung-ho about it.”

After a moment or two, the scratches had faded back into solid, matte, black and you drew back with a content hum.

“There! All fixed!” You gave your most winning smile. Please don’t eat me, your brain chanted on endless repeat. Please don’t eat me please don’t eat me please don’t eat me—

The dragon reared back and settled on its haunches with another heavy puff of sweltering breath. You could feel the heat of it prickling all the way up your arms. After a long, long, moment of silent consideration, the dragon leaned forward again and rumbled deep in its chest. When you only stood there, properly petrified, it huffed again and bumped its nose against your sternum, nearly toppling you over.

“I don’t—” you started, nervous. “I’m sorry. I don’t really get what you’re trying to say.”

With another sigh that sounded entirely too put upon, the dragon lowered its great head. The air itself seemed to grow heavy against your shoulders, and you could taste the cloying bitterness of strong magics on the back of your tongue. Black miasma oozed from beneath the dragon’s talons and melted along its scales. The caustic scent of ash and petrichor burned along your nostrils, and you had to pinch your eyes shut and cover your nose to keep from coughing. You managed to sneak a peek past your fingers just in time to watch the shadowed outline of the beast collapse. And out of that puddle of black goo emerged a man. He was tall and lithe, just as the dragon had been, with glowing green eyes that were terribly familiar. They were framed with thick, dark, lashes and sat perfectly on a face that was nearly too handsome to be human (well, it really wasn’t human you supposed, so that little tidbit probably accounted for said inhuman beauty well enough). Recognizable eyes and stature or no, the curling horns atop his head would have sealed the deal plenty well enough on their own.

He shook off the shadows twining around his ankles with a lazy twist of the hand and then turned to you with a curious little hum.

And holy fuck Mister Dragon apparently had no sense of shame, or maybe just no qualms about social niceties and practicalities, because his human self was wearing about just as many clothes as his lizard form had been.

You squeezed your eyes shut with a squeak, and then double covered them with your hands for good measure.

A chuckle rolled through the air—as dark and pleasantly rich as the finest of chocolates. And then there was a clawed finger beneath your chin, tilting your head back, and back, and back until you were at least half-way sure it would probably be safe to open your eyes again without infringing on his decency.

“You are fascinating, Child of Man,” it—he—hummed, low in his throat. His thumb dragged down to hook beneath the curve of your jaw and support the finger tucked up under your chin. “And it’s been so, very, long since I’ve been fascinated by anything.”

“Uh,” you replied, like a perfectly functional human being.

The dragon’s lips curled up over his pointed teeth—still just as sharp and white as they had been when he’d been so much bigger and scalier.

“I think I’d like to keep you,” he said with a nod to himself, as casually as one may talk about picking up extra groceries from the market.

“Uh,” you said again.

“You did mention that you needed protecting,” he continued, tapping a clawed finger against his own chin. The small smile quirking his lips twisted into something smug. “And that is certainly something at which I would excel.”

Your head was swimming.

“I—I mean. I’m honored that you—that… you—” You couldn’t even think the words, let alone get them past your brain and out of your mouth. You cleared your throat and fought to keep your eyes level with his clavicle and nowhere else. “D-Don’t you think you’re moving a bit fast?” you laughed nervously. “I mean, I’m sure my friends will probably be on their way back down soon—and—I mean, we haven’t even introduced ourselves yet. I don’t even know your name.”

He blinked, slow and serpentine.

“Oh. I suppose you wouldn’t.” He canted his head to the side, long strands of that inky black hair of his spilling across his shoulder. An amused sort of grin worked its way along his mouth. “Dragons are not keen to give out our true names so readily, but you seem like a clever one. Tell me—what do you think I’m called then, hmm?”

You glanced up quickly at the horns atop his head and couldn’t help yourself.

“Tsunotarou?”

He let out a bark of laughter that seemed to shake the walls.

“Oh,” he trilled, looking positively delighted. The hand not curled beneath your chin reached down to snag your own, and he brought your wrist up to his lips. You could feel the imprints of his canines against the soft skin there. “I’ll definitely be keeping you.”

#twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #Malleus Draconia x Reader #Malleus x Reader #Malleus Draconia #Malleus x Yuu #Dragon Malleus #Monster Mayhem #My Writing #Monster Mayhem Malleus Part 1

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