#under crystalline dreams

[garoujo]

✩ ˛˚ . WAKING UP WITH THEM feat. 𝓙𝓤𝓙𝓤𝓣𝓢𝓤 𝓚𝓐𝓘𝓢𝓔𝓝!

ஜ ˖ ࣪࿐ྂ characters: gojo satoru, geto suguru, nanami kento, fushiguro megumi + itadori yuuji

warnings! none, fluff ♡ ˖ ࣪࿐ྂ note! hi it’s been so long + i just got a sudden urge to write with the new season + all! life has been super cray but hopefully i get to do some more jjk again ueueue! back to my roots <3

✩ ˛˚ . GOJO SATORU

it was almost a mission getting up next to gojo, or more so having to actually get out of bed when you have your overgrown clingy boyfriend wrapped around you.

his breathing is soft, the rise and fall of his chest is steady and despite the way the light barely breaks into the room you can see the way his lashes still rest along his cheeks.

now’s your chance, you think to yourself as you ease gojo’s arm from where he’s got it draped over your waist — gently as to not jolt him awake as you push yourself closer to the edge of the bed. you gently swing your legs over the edge, but just as you go to push yourself up you hear the slow, drowsy drawl of a man who’s definitely not about to let you do that.

“oh, what’s this? i don’t think so, sweet thing.” your snowy haired boyfriend grunts as his arms take their previous place around your waist from behind, tighter this time before you’re pulled back into his chest with such an ease you almost squeak. you barely heard him move and the speed he always seems to despite the early hours still makes your head feel dizzy.

“you wouldn’t leave me cold would you? where’s your heart?” gojo teases but you note that he’s warm when he’s pushing himself into the crook of your neck, letting his lips graze along the skin there as he chuckles at the way you shudder at the touch. he knows you’re pouting, your little mission not so successful—but he still thinks it’s adorable the way you melt back into him regardless.. like you were secretly hoping for the loss.

“you were literally asleep a second ago.” your words are accompanied by a playful pinch at his cheek before his large palms graze under your shirt, squeezing at your waist as he pulls away to give you a tilted look. his sleepy smirk is in place as it stretches wide before he leans into to press a quick kiss against your lips, then another against your cheek that lingers.

“oh yeah? but i thought i was still in a dream, sweet girl.” crystalline eyes pull back to look over you, mapping out your features like gojo hasn’t already committed them to memory. but you think it’s unfair how handsome he seems to look in the mornings, especially when you’re trying to resist the way he makes you want to give in to his request to stay in bed a little longer.

“yeah yeah, just get up already.”

“nuh ugh, you’ve not even given me my good morning kiss yet. how will i survive the day, hm?”

✩ ˛˚ . GETO SUGURU

you need to get up, geto knows when your alarm goes off for the third time even though it was the first that woke him. “i know you’re awake, pretty girl.” he hums against your temple, but you’re still pressed up into him and every attempt to shake you gently awake has you inching yourself closer to his chest rather than to the edge of the bed.

“come on.” his words are accompanied by the smooth trace of his hands along the curve of your spine and you think it’s a little contradictory, the way he’s making you melt even more into him despite the way it’s supposed to be waking you up instead.

“sugu, but i’m tired.” a kiss to your forehead and a squeeze of his hand at your hips and you hear geto chuckle as he pulls back to look at you — his dark hair still messily framing his features as he pushes himself up.

“yeah? you seemed to be sleeping well when you were snoring.” he teases even as one arm still wraps around you and pulls you into him anyway. chuckling, long and low when you grumble before nuzzling into the crook of his neck to press butterfly kisses along his skin.

“i don’t snore.” you reply before you find yourself lost in him, geto always smelled good, so good you wanted to wrap yourself in him like the blanket you wrap yourself in at night. you hear him hum at your words; like he’s not quite convinced before he’s reaching over you to tap at the alarm, again.

“but we really need to get up.” he sighs but somehow manages to keep you still pressed against him as he sits up, letting you curl up against his chest as the first cold press of morning air rolls over your shoulders while he stretches.

you look up at him with drowsy features but it seems to warm you from the inside out when you notice he’s already staring, a smirk in place before he’s pinching once at your cheek and kissing your lips when they jut out into a pout.

“hey, don’t gimme that look after all of those alarms, pretty girl.”

✩ ˛˚ . NANAMI KENTO

waking up with nanami was easy, or more so being woken up by him. he was always up early, waking you up with a sweet kiss against your cheek, followed by another against your temple. his coffee still lingers on his lips but you think it’s familiar, like it makes the first stretch of the day come a little easier when hes resting over you.

“morning, sweetheart.” his voice is a low drawl but he knows you’ll probably still be in bed by the time he leaves. but you know you’ll walk into the kitchen to sliced fruit on the table and your slippers will be waiting in their place over the edge — perfectly positioned for you to slide into because he knows the floor is a little colder in the morning.

“morning, kento.” your voice is cute, barely audible but nanami’s still close enough to hear it as he lets his palm push gently down the curve of your shoulder — squeezing at the skin affectionately. your eyes are barely open, but you can still feel the way he tucks the comforter over you, sighing softly before he pulls back.

“do you want me to bring in dinner?” he asks, you’re barely awake but he still waits for an answer. a little nod follows and he smiles to himself when you subconsciously roll onto his side of the bed, seeking out the small remainder of the warmth he’d left behind although you’d still rather he be next to you instead.

“then i won’t be late, i have dinner plans now after all.” nanami pulls back to take another sip of his coffee but you still seem to find the consciousness to reach out to grab at the cuff of his shirt. a drowsy blink up at him and he knows he can’t deny you when he’s leaning over you again, leaving you with another few kisses that find him having to smooth down his shirt and hair again afterwards.

✩ ˛˚ . FUSHIGURO MEGUMI

you think it’s charming, the way megumi is already looking at you as you wake, blinking blearily at your dark haired boyfriend as he gives you a content sort of look. you blink again, stretching slightly before you roll onto your side, edging yourself closer before you speak. “were you watching me sleep?”

your question is still drawled as you tease him, barely awake but you can still see the way it makes him jolt slightly — like he’s been caught in a daze as the tips of his ears sting with a blush. “no” but his reply is too quick, followed by a tsk while he’s suddenly looking everywhere but at you with a pout on his lips that only seems to lure you closer.

you giggle as you press yourself into megumi’s side, humming at the grumpy expression on his face because you still think it’s cute the way he lets you climb all over him. “what? i think it’s cute.” he softens at that, slightly as his eyes dart quickly to look at you before they’re gone again.

you let the silence settle for a few moments before you feel his arm reach to wrap gently around your waist, securing you against him before he clears his throat to finally say something. but his gaze remains on the ceiling. “i wasn’t staring..” he begins before he gives you another quick look, “.. you, you just made a sound, i was checking on you.”

you hum at megumi’s little excuse as your press your cheek into his shoulder, failing to hide the way your lips are starting to stretch into a grin that he notices before his brows furrow slightly. “hm? you looked happy about it.” you tease again and you feel his fingers squeeze at your waist slightly as he breathes out a long sigh and curls you closer.

“shutup.”

✩ ˛˚ . ITADORI YUUJI

on the rare occasions itadori seemed to wake up before you, you were never far behind — mostly because he couldn’t seem to wait too long without you. so you always seemed to find yourself woken up by a few messy kisses, pressed quickly into your cheeks, then your neck, then your nose until you’re pushing him away playfully at the way they tickle your skin.

“yuuji! i’m awake..” you huff out as your overgrown boyfriend leans his weight over you, like a giant puppy licking his owner awake in the morning as he sends you a bright grin. you always thought it was cute how pretty he still seemed to be in the mornings, even when his hair is messy and it’s barely 8am— there’s still a soft sort of glow in his eyes when they meet yours.

“morning!” itadori replies, his voice is lower than normal but he still handles you softly despite how tightly he wants to wrap you in his arms. but he was warm, sort of like sunshine and you think you quite enjoy the moments when you get to wake up under the sun.

“do you wanna get breakfast?” you ask softly and you swear you feel your boyfriend squeeze you tighter at that. but your arms wrap around him and he doesn’t think anything is gonna be as good as the feeling of you against his chest right now.

“five more minutes, babe. i wanna cuddle a little longer.” itadori’s words are muffled when he speaks them into your skin, continuing where he left off on his onslaught of kisses as he peppers them across your features. across your cheeks, along your jawline and down your neck until he’s pressing you into your pillows and groaning when you scratch your fingers through his hair.

but you accept, even though in five more minutes you know it’ll be ten.

© 2023 GAROUJO. please do not copy any of my layouts or writing and translate or repost onto any other sites.

[azen13]

CW: Yandere Themes, Kissing

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Imagine Yandere!Zhongli in a Reverse!AU, where you're Liyue's Archon and you seal him away. Thousands of years ago, you and him were friends ruling over different sections of what would become Liyue. You hardly noticed the way his eyes lingered on you whenever he saw you, hardly knew how he would dream of having you all to himself.

One day, he makes an advance as you both sip on tea at Mount Aocang, pledging to move mountains and sink continents if you ask. The price of his eternal affection remains unsaid, but you can see it in the feral, draconic look in his eye. Every dragon has a hoard, even Zhongli. And he will stop at nothing until he can have you as his most valuable treasure.

Despite his efforts to prevent you from escaping, you manage to flee back to your territory. Weeks later, Zhongli attempts to catch you off guard with a surprise invasion, but in the heat of battle, you manage to seal him away beneath the earth.

Millenia pass, and you mourn the loss of a friend, but work to build the nation of Liyue up to the ground. The Fatui come, offering a deal for your Gnosis, and you refuse. It is a mistake you will regret every day for eternity.

One day, the earth shakes in a way that makes your stomach turn.

You feel his presence before you even catch a glimpse of his crystalline horns or golden eyes. Warm and earthy like petrichor. Running out into the city streets, you help an elderly couple around some piles of rubble, before continuing towards the source of the power.

The God of Contracts finds you first, though, easily snaring your feet in stone. His power is choking in a way, and when you try to fight back with your own magic, you feel the power in your body quickly draining from you. Zhongli notices the surprise in your face, and a small smirk plays on his lips. "I've had many years to learn some new...tricks, my treasure," he murmurs, striding towards you confidently. His fingers hook under your chin, pulling it up so your eyes gaze into his. "The people that freed me said they would let me keep you if I gave them your Gnosis."

In an instant, his hand is in your chest, grasping around for your Gnosis. You cry out in pain and try to struggle, but Zhongli grabs your shoulder in a tight grip, forcing you steady. It only takes a moment for him to pull out your Gnosis, gazing at it intently. "You cannot truly understand how long I have dreamt of this day. Of you, my dearest. And now, we will never have to be apart," he whispers, pressing his lips against yours greedily. He allows himself a few seconds to savor this scene, before pulling away.

"Now, my treasure. I wish to make a contract with you." With a wave of his hand, he manifests a piece of parchment filled with words on it out of thin air. "I will help repair all the damage I have done if you promise to be mine, in body and spirit, for better or for worse." You glare at him vehemently, spitting out your refusal. In return, Zhongli simply chuckles. "In that case, I will turn every building to dust," he threatens.

Turning to some already-damaged buildings, he raises a hand, ready to demolish them with a flick of the wrist. Your cries of acquiescence stop him before he can, however. When you finish signing, Zhongli gives you a predatory smile, brushing his fingers against the side of your face. "I knew you would surrender, my dearest," he purrs, possessiveness filling his eyes. "Now, allow me to fulfill my own contract, and then we can return home," he says.

You get the feeling that you will not be leaving home for a very long time.

[blood-smiles]

𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐘 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐀 𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄 ᡣ𐭩₊⋆

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄! 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 TW MDNI Fake religion . angel being creepy . profanity and small blurbs of NSFW . M!preg to some degree?

Eyes, many eyes, all watched you silently, feathers fell around you in a circle, the beautiful fluffy bird like wings curled around your form, a gorgeous man stood in front of you, eyes alike to those of a prism shining under sun, a kaleidoscope of colors reflecting off his beautiful hues and back into your own (e/c) irises.

He held you ever so gently, his fingers trembling as he softly caressed your face, his long ashen hair flowing down his back, alike to smooth silk.

He opened his mouth to speak but as soon as he was about to form a sentence your eyes snapped open.

ᝰ.ᐟ Your friend poked you with their finger, waking you up from your surreal dream and back into reality.

You were thinking about angels again, weren’t you?— They had been appearing in your dreams for the past few days, strangely they always centered around this man, a beautiful man.

After waking up you couldn’t remember anything else but his stunning crystalline eyes, those rainbow eyes were burned into the back of your head, you knew that he was beautiful, could it be your guardian angel visiting you?

ᝰ.ᐟ You had been assigned an essay on the topic of the heavenly protectors, your professor wanting to have a change of pace and focus on something more niche.

There were limited sources, so you had to dig deeper.

You had been looking at links as of late, locations that centered on religious themes and creatures.

ᝰ.ᐟ Lucky for you a new location appeared on your browser, what seemed to be a library that nuns and priests went to often, to study and solidify their fate.

ᝰ.ᐟ You walked into the library quietly, clutching your messenger bag close to your chest, your feet tapped against the pristine white flooring.

ᝰ.ᐟ This library was large, huge even. You had no idea how you never noticed it, the structure being a behemoth among other buildings.

The architecture of this place was simply breathtaking, your eyes drinking in every inch and centimeter of the temple, you knew you came to the right place when you noticed cherubs intricately carved into the white plaster above you.

ᝰ.ᐟ You were too much in awe to realize that you were about to crash into a person, instantly hitting their chest with your face and falling back onto the floor.

ᝰ.ᐟ Yandere!Angel let out a faint breath of air when he saw you, his heart beginning to beat rapidly, he had found you. He had finally found you!

ᝰ.ᐟ Yandere! Angel helped you up immediately, gently taking your divine hands in his own, holding them as if they were golden 3 carat chains.

“Oh my! Are you alright, dear?”

ᝰ.ᐟ You thanked Yandere! Angel, your jaw slightly ajar from the beauty of the man, Yandere!Angel laughed lightly, covering the lower half of his face with his hand bashfully.

“You can take a picture so it lasts longer, hm?”

ᝰ.ᐟ Your eyes drifted down to his neck, star shaped scars lining the circumference of his throat over his skin. How strange.

ᝰ.ᐟ You cleared your throat, deciding to ignore that comment all together, taking out your small note pad you read from the pages, asking Yandere!Angel if the library had any books on your selection.

ᝰ.ᐟ Yandere! Angel’s brows raised, he knew you were here for something.. But about his own kin? It seems that he was guided to you and you were to him, just like faith.

ᝰ.ᐟ Yandere! Angel took your hand and ushered you to follow him, a slight flush centering on his cheeks. the both of you ventured to the very back of the temple like library, the undercover angel pushed a book case with impressive strength to a side.

A cloud of dust came off the shelves, bringing a hand up to cover your mouth and nose from the puff of dust. 

ᝰ.ᐟ Yandere! Angel beat you to it as he gently put his hands over your face, protecting you from inhaling grime particles, the unexpected and honestly intimate gesture making you gaze up at him quizzically.

“Wouldn’t want you getting sick, dearest.”

ᝰ.ᐟ Yandere!Angel couldn’t believe he had just touched you, he had touched YOU. Ecstasy flooded into his system, the golden blood surging in his veins boiling.

His face twitched, eyes behind eyelids making small movements, a nervous smile pulled at the corners of his mouth as he dusted your shoulders off.

ᝰ.ᐟ Yandere! Angel took out a few books, blowing the dust away with a flick of his hand, he grasped the human leather cover, staring at it for a moment before handing the heavy enciclopedia to you.

“This is the most in depth book we have here, it isn’t every day anyone asks for books such as these.”

ᝰ.ᐟ Yandere! Angel watched as you opened the pages, tracing the book with your hands, he shuddered, would you touch him like that too?

He gently plucked a feather from the wings attached to his back, gently putting the soft feather in your hand, he opened his eyes for a split second.

Beautiful. Breath taking crystalline eyes, those eyes. You could recognize them anywhere! Those were the eyes from the man in your dream!

“This feather is from an angel, Seraph if you may. Treasure it, keep it with you at all times and it will keep you safe.”

ᝰ.ᐟ You stared at his eyes, it was like they were eating at you, just who was he? It would be silly to think he would appear in your dreams.. Wouldn’t it..?

“..Lucien.”

“Huh?”

“Call me Lucien, (Y/N).”

ᝰ.ᐟ How did he know your name? You never told him your name.. you gave him a funny look, you smiled awkwardly while turning on your heel to make a hasty departure.

You glanced back over your shoulder, a bad habit you had developed as a result of walking home alone during night time.

ᝰ.ᐟ Your breath caught in your throat, Lucien. That same strange librarian was no human anymore, he stood in front of a window, he lifted his hand slowly waving to you, a nice flush tinting his cheekbones.

Long white wings adorned his back, lush feathers falling onto the pristine floor of the temple. A golden halo behind his head, circulating and hovering in clock wise motions. Small wings that hid under his hair twitched and fluttered as they unfolded, looking unbearably soft and pretty.

“..What the fuck..?”

ᝰ.ᐟ You gasped to yourself as you stared at him, he smiled wider, you had noticed, he knew you had noticed! And you didn’t go crazy!

ᝰ.ᐟ Yandere! Angel was delighted to make the discovery that you weren’t driven to insanity while seeing his half form. most humans would have been having seizures on the floor right about now, but you just blinked a few times and turned back around, shoulders tense and rigid.

ᝰ.ᐟ He shivered in delight, humans were at times so adorable— Well more like you were the cutest little thing he has ever seen! 

ᝰ.ᐟ He just wanted to grab you and tuck your little self into his nest and have many many children! He hasn’t had his first batch of eggs yet.. he was going to be plump with eggs soon.

ᝰ.ᐟ the both of you were mates! Yes, yes there was no other explanation for these events, perhaps [ REDACTED ] had finally blessed him!

ᝰ.ᐟ Yandere! Angel ‘s face turned a deeper shade of red, he could swear there were little hearts coming out of him.

He held his face in his hands, his cheeks felt agonizingly hot, he put his hands to work, trying to bat his face a little to keep the blushing down.

ᝰ.ᐟ You were safe. You had taken his feather. Basically a natural tracking device, and soon he would work his way into your life little by little.. Guardian Angel or not he was going to take you as his.

“My wings..? You want to touch them? Well of course, darling! All of me is yours.”

(Touching an angels wings is an intimate act where mates solidify their mating bond. Discretion advised.)

[sunshinesfreckless]

Beach Hazard

───୨ৎ────────୨ৎ───────୨ৎ───

Pairing: Lifeguard!Felix x Fem!Reader

Summary: Visiting your cousin in Australia for the first time without being prepared for the heat was one thing — but her not warning you about the real heat at the beach was another.

Warnings: Smut MDNI, Hot lifeguards

A/N: The reader does not have a specific skin color, ethnicity, or body type. The picture I chose from Pinterest is just to help visualize one of the bikinis better!

───୨ৎ────────୨ৎ───────୨ৎ───

 

The sun was merciless. It clung to Y/N’s skin, wrapped around her like a second layer, and turned every breath into a sigh of defeat. She fanned herself with a limp hand, already regretting everything.

“You never told me Australia was this hot,” she groaned, dragging her sandals through the burning sand.

Yeji, unfazed and radiant as always, only shrugged. “I thought it was kinda obvious, you know?”

They finally reached the beach—a postcard come to life. Crystalline waves kissed the shore, sunlight danced off every surface, and bronzed bodies glistened like they’d been sculpted for worship. Y/N squinted through the brightness, adjusting to the sheer number of abs per square meter.

She dropped her towel, barely finding the will to sit down before Yeji nudged her hard in the ribs.

“Just so you know,” Yeji whispered, eyes twinkling behind her sunglasses. “A little tourist highlight here… are our lifeguards.”

Y/N raised a skeptical eyebrow. “You can’t be serious. Baywatch-type lifeguards don’t actually exist—”

A sharp whistle sliced through the air, and then… slow motion.

The first one bolted down the beach like it was a fashion runway. Long, black hair whipped behind him, his expression carved with intense focus. His frame was lean, but corded with elegant muscle, the kind that made you forget how to breathe. His lips—full, plush, kissable—pouted naturally, and his shoulder-to-waist ratio defied logic. He sprinted toward a jet ski like a Greek god late for Olympus.

“That’s Hyunjin,” Yeji murmured, voice reverent.

On the jet ski, a man sat waiting, stoic like a painting in motion. His thighs alone could crush watermelons, tanned and glistening as the sun traced every line of definition. His gaze was sharp as steel as he nodded at Hyunjin.

“That’s Lee Know.”

A third lifeguard joined them, tossing a life vest with a lazy flick of the wrist. His tattoos were etched into golden skin, glinting under the sunlight. His Muscles…. eye candy.

“Han,” Yeji added, grinning.

Behind him, another man held up a pair of binoculars, but his forearms stole the show. Veins, muscle, pure buffness.

“That’s Changbin.”

Two more figures were prepping a small rescue boat. One had a smile like a slice of mischief—Jeongin. Playful eyes, sun-streaked hair, and that lean, boyish physique.

Beside him, Seungmin—cool, calm. His jawline could’ve cut diamonds, Understated beauty, the kind that lingered.

And then—

Yeji inhaled. “My personal favorite… Mr. Bang.”

Bang Chan strode behind them all like he owned the beach. His back—broad, powerful, unfair—was on full display as he adjusted a rescue board under one arm. He was all tan, sinew, and control. The leader energy radiated.

Y/N tried to swallow, but her throat was dry. “You’ve gotta be kidding me—”

And then… he appeared.

From the ocean itself. A mirage made real.

He walked out of the water like a dream crashing into reality. Golden skin wet and glistening, every curve of his abs carved by the gods. Water rolled down his torso, catching on the sharp lines of muscle, and Y/N actually forgot what she was saying. He ran one hand through his soaked blonde hair, pushing it back to reveal pretty brown-eyes that accidentally locked with hers.

Time paused. Her lungs gave up.

His lips parted slightly, breath catching—and hers did too.

“Jesus,” Y/N whispered. “Who is that?”

Yeji smirked. “Felix.”

Y/N could only blink. Hello Felix…

Never in her life had Y/N felt so painfully, violently unfucked. It hit her like a freight train the moment he emerged from the water, all abs and attitude, and it hadn’t let up since. Her thighs clenched instinctively.

Holy. Shit.

“It’s nothing serious!” Changbin yelled toward the jet ski, giving a thumbs-up as Lee Know veered off with that stone-faced drama only he could pull off.

Hyunjin jogged over, hair flying behind him like he was in a shampoo commercial. “Did you see what’s up?”

“A woman thought she saw a shark,” Felix murmured, voice low and rough. “False alarm.”

His gaze drifted lazily back to the woman in a tiny white bikini, the kind that looked like it would disintegrate if the wind picked up. His eyes lingered—just for a second—then flicked back toward his friends.

“Mate, we’re still on duty,” Chan said, clapping him on the shoulder like a disappointed dad.

Felix just gave a low, cheeky laugh—the kind that made Y/N’s stomach flip. “I’m on watch.”

He grabbed the whistle Chan held out, slipping it around his neck with lazy precision. Then came the sunglasses.

“I know you’re on watch. I’m your boss,” Chan muttered. “But I literally just caught you ogling a girl.”

Felix raised one perfect brow and waved it off, already turning to patrol the beach like he owned the damn coastline.

Y/N’s jaw dropped. She wasn’t breathing. She couldn’t breathe.

“He literally just looked at me,” she gasped, gripping Yeji’s arm like a woman in spiritual distress.

“Felix?” Yeji asked, amused.

“Mhm.”

“Sure, sweetie,” Yeji snorted, clearly unconvinced.

Y/N turned her head slowly, eyes tracking Felix like he was prey and she was starving. “No, I need to have him.”

Yeji burst into laughter. “Good luck. All of them are fellow students in my class at my college, and I’ve been trying to get into Chan’s pants since high school.”

“Any luck?”

“Not even a crumb.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes, watching Felix’s golden skin disappear into the distance, his shoulders flexing with every step. Her voice dropped to a whisper.

“I’m going to make that man sin.”

The plan formed fast. Reckless. Beautiful. Stupid.

Y/N sat up, adjusting her bikini top like she was about to enter battle.

“No,” Yeji hissed. “Don’t even think about it.”

“I have to,” Y/N whispered. “He’s walking away, Yeji. Away from my life. My future. My Body. My womb.”

“You’re insane.”

“I’m in heat.”

Yeji groaned and dragged her sunglasses down. “Please tell me you’re not about to fake a drowning.”

“Not drowning. Just… distress. Sexy distress.”

“Oh my God. Y/N, no—”

But she was already walking—no, striding—toward the shore, her hair catching the breeze. She reached the shallows, flipped her head dramatically, and waded in.

Step. Step. Gasp.

She stumbled, flailing her arms like she was being attacked by invisible seaweed. “Ah! Oh no—help! Help me! I—I think I twisted my ankle in the water!”

Yeji slapped her own face. “Jesus Christ.”

A whistle shrieked.

Y/N turned in slow motion, ready to fall into the arms of her dripping wet, Australian savior.

But it wasn’t Felix.

It was Hyunjin.

Her smile faded.

Hair flying (WHY WAS HIS HAIR ALWAYS FLYING), eyes full of panic and beauty, he wrapped his arms around her effortlessly and lifted her like she weighed nothing. “You’re okay. I’ve got you,” he said, voice low and soft.

And sure, it was nice. Sure, he was an Adonis. But he wasn’t Felix.

She let him carry her all the way to the towels, fully committed to the bit, but as soon as her feet touched the sand, she peeled away like an annoyed cat.

“Thanks,” she said stiffly, and stormed back to her towel.

Yeji stared at her like she’d lost her mind. “What? Hyunjin isn’t enough for your greed?”

Y/N dropped onto the towel and grabbed her water bottle like it was a flask. “Believe me,” she muttered. “I was this close to showing Hyunjin my tits.”

She sighed.

“But I’m going to stay loyal to Felix.”

 ────୨ৎ────

She “accidentally” kicks her water bottle too far and jogs after it like a distressed deer.

Cue: Seungmin.

Polite. Kind. Hot in an infuriatingly nonchalant way.

He jogs over, picks up the bottle, and hands it to her with a smile so charming it could be a toothpaste ad.

“You dropped this.”

Y/N forces a smile. “Thank you… so much.”

Yeji just snorts behind her towel. “So loyal, huh?”

 ────୨ৎ────

 

She pretends to get stung by a jellyfish. “Ow! My leg—oh no—what if it’s venomous?!”

Jeongin appears, pulling off his shirt with impressive speed.

“Where is it? I’ll check for swelling—do you need me to pee on it?”

“What? NO! God, no! I’m fine—I’m fine now.”

Jeongin tilts his head. “You sure? I’ve been trained for this.”

“I don‘t want YOUR pee,” Y/N mutters under her breath and limps away, emotionally wounded.

Yeji looked at her disgusted and shocked.

 

────୨ৎ────

She fake-coughs dramatically, clutching her throat like she’s choking on saltwater air.

This time it’s Changbin. Concerned. Sincere.

“Do you need CPR?!”

Y/N widens her eyes. “N-no…?”

He gets closer. “Are you sure? You don’t look okay.”

She looks up at the sky, whispering, “Why do you mock me, God?”

 

 ────୨ৎ────

 

She splashes herself with water and flops down like she fainted.

Bang Chan runs up with a literal first-aid kit and more authority than a SWAT team.

“I need you to stay still, okay? Can you hear me?”

Y/N stares up at him. “You’re… not Felix.”

Chan blinks. “Um. No?”

She sighs. “Then leave me here. Let the sun take me.”

Yeji cackles so hard she nearly chokes on her mango smoothie. “You’re an embarrassment to this family.”

────୨ৎ────

Y/N glares at the sea, where Felix is, of course, walking along the waterline, shirt off, towel over his shoulder, hair wet and golden like he just stepped out of a wet dream.

She slams her fists into the towel. “WHY does God keep sending other hot lifeguards?! I don’t want the entire calendar, I want SEPTEMBER !”

 

 ────୨ৎ────

 

The next morning, Y/N burst into Yeji’s room like a woman on a mission.

“Get your towel. We’re going back.”

Yeji groaned from under the blanket. “I am not emotionally strong enough to watch you throw yourself at lifeguards again.”

Y/N clasped her hands like she was begging for water in a desert. “Please. I just need one more chance.”

“…You said that yesterday.”

“And I meant it then. But today I’m serious.”

Ten minutes later, Yeji was dragging her cooler through the sand, watching Y/N strut ahead in a bikini so small it could be mistaken for shoelaces. Leopard print. Glossy lips. Hair beachy and bouncy. A menace.

And there he was.

Felix.

Standing near the lifeguard tower, talking to Seungmin while tying his hair up. The muscles in his arms flexed as he looped the elastic around his damp blond strands, biceps and shoulders glistening in the sun like someone had Photoshopped reality.

Y/N stopped walking. “That’s it. This is the day I make him fall.”

“Or call security,” Yeji muttered, finding them a shady spot.

 

 ────୨ৎ────

 

She walks past the lifeguard stand, slow and deliberate. She bends to pretend to fix her flip-flop. Her butt is absolutely facing him.

Nothing. No reaction.

She peeks.

He’s looking at a seagull.

“You’re watching a bird?” she seethes.

Yeji sips her iced latte, unbothered from afar. “Damn, even the bird’s getting more attention.”

 ────୨ৎ────

She pretends to drop sunscreen and bends very slowly to pick it up. She even lets out a small gasp. Like it’s so hard to pick something up off the sand.

Felix jogs past her—past her—shouting something into his walkie-talkie.

“He didn’t even see me!” she hisses.

“He’s literally working,” Yeji deadpans.

 

────୨ৎ────

 

She finally gathers the courage to walk up to the tower. Felix is leaning on the rail, looking like an ocean god sent to torment her.

“Hi,” she says, as seductively as possible.

“Hey,” he says, smiling—but friendly. Polite. Professional.

She freezes. “I… like your whistle.”

Your whistle? Your WHISTLE?

“Thanks,” he chuckles, then leans over the edge. “Hey, Seungmin! Can you cover my post for five? I’m gonna refill my water bottle.”

YES! A window!

But before she can say anything else, he hops down and jogs right past her.

Y/N turns to Yeji, who is visibly crying from behind her sunglasses.

“I’m going to die alone.”

“No, you’re just going to die of dehydration from how hard you’re thirsting.”

Y/N flops onto her towel in defeat. “This is the worst vacation of my life.”

Just as she’s about to bury herself in sand out of shame, Felix calls out behind her, towel slung over his shoulder, voice teasing:

“Leopard print, huh? Bold.”

She jerks upright. “What?!”

He’s already walking away again. But this time, he smirks.

She turns to Yeji, completely unhinged. “Did you see that? That was flirting.”

“Or basic human interaction.”

“I am winning.”

 

────୨ৎ────

But the Euphoria didn’t last long……the rest of the day, Y/N gave up.

No sultry poses. No hair flips. No fake injuries.

She was just… tanning. Peacefully. Like a normal, non-horny person.

Face down, book open, towel beneath her. Her hair tied, sunglasses on, headphones in. She barely even looked in Felix’s direction.

Which apparently meant everyone else did.

“Who’s that?” Han asked, squinting through his sunglasses as he handed out ice pops from the cooler.

Seungmin tilted his head. “That’s Yeji’s cousin, Y/N. She’s been here two days in a row. Yesterday she tried to drown herself like three times.”

Jeongin laughed. “You mean the fake fainting girl.”

Felix frowned, not even sure why. “Why are you all looking over there?”

Han grinned, obnoxiously. “Because she looks hot.”

Felix scoffed. “She’s just reading.”

“Exactly,” Han said, chewing on his popsicle. “Effortless hot. That’s rare.”

Felix followed their gazes—casually, of course. And yeah. Okay. Maybe she did look a little too good just lying there in the sun, legs glistening, hips arched slightly, bikini flattering her every curve. She wasn’t looking at them.

Not looking at him.

He looked away, annoyed for no reason. “Focus. You’re on duty.”

But the rest of the afternoon, his eyes kept drifting. Especially when some random guys walked by a little too slowly. He tensed every time they looked at her twice. When one guy tripped trying to check her out, Felix nearly stood up.

He didn’t, though.

Didn’t matter.

Not his problem.

 

────୨ৎ────

 

Y/N came alone this time.

No Yeji. No plan. Just her book, her floral bikini, and a promise to herself to act normal.

She found her same spot, laid out her towel, and sank into the sun. She didn’t look around. She didn’t need to.

But she did feel it—the prickling sensation of being watched.

Felix was on his post, up in the tower. Sunglasses on. Elbows on the rail.

Watching.

Not obviously.

Just enough.

She smiled to herself but didn’t look up.

A few hours later, the sun was high, and she decided to take a quick dip. She set her book down, tied her hair up, and stepped into the water, sighing at the coolness against her skin.

She was waist-deep when two boys—maybe sixteen, seventeen—started splashing nearby.

They were giggling. Whispering. Then.

Snap.

She felt the back of her bikini top loosen.

“What the—?!”

She turned just as one of the boys tossed her top into the deeper waves, cackling. “Oops! Didn’t mean to!”

Y/N let out a scream, arms crossing over her chest, eyes wide with panic. “Are you kidding me?! What the hell?!”

The boys were still laughing, not realizing how serious she was.

But someone else did.

Felix was already sprinting from the tower.

His feet hit the sand hard, running full speed. Past the shoreline, crashing into the water like a force of nature. One of the boys saw him coming and bolted. The other stood frozen, half in shock, half in fear.

Felix didn’t stop.

He reached her, wrapping his arms around her from behind in one fluid motion, he turned her around his chest pressing against her breasts, strong arms holding her protectively.

“Got you,” he murmured, his voice low—too low—and calm despite everything.

Y/N was shaking. Not from the cold. Not from the water. From him. His arms. His voice. The sheer intimacy of it.

Her heart was somewhere in her throat.

“Stay still,” he said, one hand still holding her close, the other reaching out to catch the drifting bikini top with a perfect, practiced swipe.

Then his voice snapped like thunder toward the boys.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” His accent hit harder when he was angry. “You think this is funny? You touch anyone like that again and you’re not just getting kicked off the beach—you’ll be talking to police. Get lost.”

The boys scattered like roaches.

He turned back to her, gentler now.

“Hold on,” he murmured. “I’ve got it.”

With a strange tenderness, he helped her tie the top back on, his fingers brushing along her back, slow and methodical, careful not to look even though her blush was violently visible.

Then—just as he finished fastening the strap—he leaned in slightly, voice lower than it had ever been.

“Shame it wasn’t me who took it off.”

Her eyes snapped wide open. “What did you—?”

But he was already walking away, water dripping down his back, shoulders flexing with each step as he moved toward the shore like nothing happened.

“FELIX?!”

He didn’t turn around.

 

 ────୨ৎ────

Y/N sat wrapped in a towel like a sad burrito.

Yeji had finally arrived. “You had one job. Not to flash the beach.”

“I didn’t flash anyone, I got assaulted by middle schoolers.”

Yeji squinted at her. “Okay, fair. But can we talk about how you’re glowing right now? What happened?”

Y/N stared into the middle distance, whispering: “He said it.”

“Said what?”

“He said shame it wasn’t me who took it off.”

Yeji almost choked on her drink. “I’m sorry—EXCUSE ME?? Sir Felix ‘No Fun, Just Whistles’ said THAT?”

“WHILE tying it back on.”

Yeji stared at her in awe. “You have to seduce him today.”

“I need to interrogate him first.”

 

 ────୨ৎ────

She walks up to the lifeguard stand later, trying to be chill. Super casual. Not at all like she’s having an internal breakdown over a whisper.

He’s sitting there, eating from a container of cut-up mango like he didn’t just ruin her inner peace forever.

“Hey,” she says.

“Hey.” He looks up, relaxed, tongue flicking a mango slice into his mouth.

Unacceptable.

She blurts: “Did you mean it?”

He pauses. “Mean what?”

Her entire soul short circuits. “You know… the thing. The top. The taking-off thing.”

He raises a brow, amused. “Are you asking if I’m a pervert, or if I have taste?”

“I—what—no, I mean—yes?!”

He leans back, watching her squirm. “Maybe I just wanted to shut you up.”

“…What?”

“All that seduction. The sunscreen. The flip-flop. The fake fainting. The sunscreen again.”

Her mouth drops open. “You saw all that?!”

“I’m on watch,” he says, smug. “I see everything.”

She makes a strangled noise and nearly falls over trying to flee the scene.

────୨ৎ────

Y/N came prepared.

Leopard print? Too obvious. Floral? Too soft. Today, she wore nothing but white again. Her bikini bottom sat dangerously low, and she wasn’t wearing a top—just lying face-down on the towel with her arms folded under her head, chin resting on her wrists, legs stretched long and lazy. Her hair was in a loose bun, sunglasses on, lip gloss shining even under the sun.

And she knew he was watching.

Yeji was next to her, pretending to scroll her phone but clearly eyeing her like she’d lost her mind. “You’re insane.”

“He likes me,” Y/N said simply.

“I’m sorry, is this ‘he’ the same Felix that laughed when you pretended to drown? That Felix?”

“He told me it was a shame he didn’t undress me.”

Yeji went dead silent.

Y/N smirked and arched her back a little more, pushing her hips up so her ass caught the light, the curve dramatic, deliberate, and lethal.

“…Babe, you’re not even flirting anymore. You’re staging a porn.”

“I’m tanning.”

“You’re sinning.”

And then—

Crunching footsteps.

They both froze.

“…No fucking way,” Yeji whispered, staring over her sunglasses.

Y/N didn’t look. She felt it.

Felix crouched beside her towel, close enough that the shade of his figure darkened the sun on her shoulder. She smelled salt, sunscreen, and whatever cologne was hanging off his damp skin today.

“You’re going to get a sunburn on your back,” he said lowly, voice brushing the shell of her ear.

Y/N didn’t move.

Yeji’s jaw was somewhere in the sand.

Felix tilted his head. “Need help with the sunscreen?”

Silence.

Then—Y/N turned her head just slightly toward him, lips parted. “Do I look like I’d say no?”

He chuckled, not answering right away. He reached for the bottle Yeji had carelessly tossed beside them and popped it open with a click. Squeezed a generous amount onto his palm. The sound alone made Y/N squirm.

And then—his hands.

Warm.

Firm.

Slow.

Moving over her shoulders, across her back, then lower—his thumbs brushing her waist, fingers splaying wide. She gasped softly when he reached the small of her back, just above the waistband of her bikini bottom.

Y/N bit her lip.

His hands were so steady. Too steady for someone who should be flustered. But that was Felix—infuriatingly composed while she melted into the towel like butter on a grill.

He rubbed slow, methodical circles into her back, and every press of his thumbs felt like a kiss dipped in warning. You’re playing with fire.

And she was. Happily.

Yeji was still frozen beside them, pretending to scroll through her phone but definitely watching through her sunglasses.

“Relax,” Felix murmured, voice deep and smooth. “You’re tense.”

Y/N scoffed, half into the towel. “Wonder why.”

“Maybe it’s because you’ve been throwing yourself at lifeguards all week.”

“Not all lifeguards,” she mumbled.

“No?”

“Just one.”

Felix’s fingers paused—just a beat.

Then he smoothed the lotion lower, brushing close to the sides of her chest, but never quite crossing the line. He knew exactly what he was doing, the bastard.

“So I should feel special?”

She could feel the smirk in his voice. That cocky confidence, just barely covering something hungrier beneath it.

Then—

He leaned in.

His lips ghosted just above her ear, breath warm. “I like when you beg for attention.”

Her whole body stiffened—and not from the cold.

Before she could answer, he was already up. Walking away. Cool and casual, like he hadn’t just lit a match and tossed it over his shoulder.

She looked up in disbelief, eyes trailing after him. His back muscles were so unfair.

Yeji finally spoke.

“Are we going to pretend that didn’t just happen or—?”

 

────୨ৎ────

 

The lifeguard hut was humming with energy—half of them shirtless, all of them sun-kissed and cocky, talking over each other and sipping iced coffees.

Y/N walked in like she belonged there.

And technically, she didn’t.

But technicalities were for people who weren’t being ignored by the blond menace known as Felix.

Yeji had tried to stop her. “Y/N, I swear, if you go in there and start fake-rashing your way into his lap—”

“It’s not fake,” Y/N lied. “I’m itchy. And mad. And petty.”

The door creaked open behind her and heads turned. All of them. Like some Greek god convention had a roll call.

“Oh—hey,” Han said first, eyes already scanning her frame with his usual curious glint. “Everything alright?”

Y/N pouted. Dramatically. “I think I’m having a reaction to the sunscreen or something. There’s like… a rash?”

“Where?” Jeongin stood up so fast his chair squeaked.

“Need help?” offered Seungmin, already pulling on latex gloves from somewhere, like he’d trained for this exact emergency.

“Boys, please,” Chan said, chuckling. “Give her some space.”

“Oh, I don’t mind,” Y/N said sweetly. “It’s just—kind of hard to reach.”

Felix, sitting back with his feet up on the table and sunglasses on, hadn’t so much as flinched. His head turned lazily, a single brow raised above the rim of his shades.

“No comment?” she asked pointedly, arms crossed under her chest.

He shrugged. “I’m not a dermatologist.”

“You’re not funny.”

“Debatable.”

The other boys looked between the two of them like it was a tennis match from hell.

“Oh really?” Y/N said, tone sharpening into sugar-dagger territory. “You won’t help?”

“I’m on break,” Felix said simply.

“That’s it,” Y/N muttered.

And then—without fanfare, without shame—she dropped her bikini top.

“The rash is right here,” she said, pointing at her bare chest like she was unveiling the Mona Lisa.

The room short-circuited.

Jeongin turned around so fast he tripped over a stool.

Han fell off his chair.

Chan stared into the corner of the ceiling like he was mentally in church.

Seungmin had gone into full CPR mode and was frantically opening the first-aid kit with shaking hands.

Felix?

Felix exhaled the heaviest sigh known to man. “Y/N.”

“What?” she snapped, arms flaring with indignation. “If you won’t help, someone else will.”

But just as she tied her top back on with all the wounded pride of a tragedy heroine—her bravado slipped.

Literally.

Her chest started itching.

Burning, actually.

“…wait.”

She scratched her collarbone. Her neck. Her stomach.

“Wait. Oh no. Oh no no no—”

“Do you… actually have a rash?” Jeongin asked, blinking.

Y/N didn’t answer. She was already lifting her top again (to check, not to seduce anyone this time, thank you very much), and what she saw made her shriek.

“WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT.”

There were red blotches. Angry ones. Spreading up her sides and over her chest like she’d rolled in poison ivy and then insulted its mother.

Han leaned in, still lying half on the floor. “Okay but that’s definitely not acting anymore.”

Felix was already up, all trace of apathy gone. “Shit. Emergency bed. Now.”

Before she could argue, he scooped her up bridal-style—her dramatic ass, red patches and all—and laid her on the narrow cot in the back of the hut.

“I didn’t mean it,” she whispered, near tears. “I was just being dramatic.”

“No way,” said Seungmin, who was now dabbing her chest with some kind of cooling gel like a very professional nurse who wasn’t looking too hard.

“Is it from the water?” Chan asked, peering at the redness.

“She swam right after lunch,” Han added.

“Oh my God,” Y/N groaned, hiding her face. “I flashed all of you and now I’m actually allergic to the ocean.”

That was when Yeji burst through the hut door, cheeks pink from laughter, holding her phone like someone had just live-texted her the whole incident.

“WHAT HAPPENED—” she gasped, doubling over when she saw Y/N laid out on the emergency bed like some half-naked cautionary tale.

“Don’t,” Y/N said weakly, pointing at her. “Don’t you dare. How did you even find out !”

Hyunjin lowered his Phone and avoided Y/Ns Eyes.

“I told you not to pretend to have a rash.”

“I WASN’T PRETENDING—ANYMORE.”

Felix stood beside her, arms crossed, lips twitching like he was one laugh away from completely losing it.

“Next time you want my attention,” he said lowly, “just say hi.”

Y/N stared up at him in betrayal. “I already did once ! You ignored me. I hate you now !”

“You look hot like this,” he said.

She blinked.

Yeji cackled.

“…I hate you slightly less.”

 

────୨ৎ────

“Hey, do you guys have more of that aloe gel?” she asked, approaching the lifeguard hut where Felix was adjusting one of the rescue boards. “My skin’s still kind of itchy.”

He glanced at her. A tiny twitch at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah. Storage shed.”

He turned without another word and walked off toward the back of the hut. Y/N followed, pretending not to care that he hadn’t even looked at her bikini today.

The metal latch creaked as he opened the shed. She peeked inside—dim, stuffy, packed with boards, towels, boxes. It smelled like sunscreen, sea salt, and wet fabric.

“Do you need help finding it?” she asked, trying not to sound like she was begging for attention.

But before she could step back—

Clang.

The door closed behind her.

Click.

Locked.

Y/N blinked into the darkness. “…What the—”

Felix was there.

Close.

Too close.

She backed up until her shoulder hit the cool fiberglass of a surfboard. Her breath caught. He hadn’t touched her. Not yet.

He didn’t need to.

“You’ve been driving me insane,” he said lowly, eyes gleaming in the narrow slice of light. “That rash stunt? You really dropped your bikini top for them?”

She swallowed. “If you weren’t so goddamn unbothered I wouldn’t have to—”

His hand hit the wall beside her head.

She stopped.

He leaned in, lips brushing her ear.

“You followed me in here, babe. You sure you want what you’re asking for?”

Dim sunlight sliced in through the slats, streaking across Felix’s face, casting shadows over the sharp line of his jaw.

She should’ve said something clever. Should’ve smirked. Should’ve denied it.

Instead, she whispered, “Yes.”

And then he moved.

One step. One shift of his hips—and he pressed her to the wall, his body caging hers, the hard line of his cock grinding slow and rough against the thin fabric of her bikini bottoms.

She gasped. He exhaled like he’d been holding his breath for days.

“I’ve been patient,” he muttered, mouth dragging down her throat. “Too patient.”

Her fingers fumbled for something—his shoulder, his hair, anything to hold onto. But it didn’t matter.

His hand slid down between them, tugging the fabric of her bikini to the side. She barely had time to register the touch before his fingers were brushing over her folds, already slick.

“You’re soaked.”

“Felix—”

“You’ve been walking around like this? All week?” He growled into her skin. “What if someone else had touched you first?”

“Then you should’ve gotten there sooner,” she snapped—then gasped as he pushed two fingers inside her, curling them deep.

Her legs buckled. He caught her with a low chuckle.

“No time for games now, quit talking like a Brat” he said, already shoving his shorts down just enough to free himself. She felt him—hot, thick, flushed against her inner thigh. Her eyes widened.

“Lift your leg. Yeah—like that.” He hooked one of her thighs over his hip, steadying her against the wall. “You’re gonna take me just like this.”

And then he pushed in.

Slow at first. Stretching her open inch by inch, until she cried out against his shoulder.

“Fuck—fuck—”

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he groaned, dragging his hips back before slamming forward, filling her deep. “That’s what you wanted, isn’t it? You wanted me to ruin you.”

The words made her clench around him.

His rhythm built fast. Brutal. He was practically slamming her against the wall now, one hand gripping her thigh, the other braced beside her head, anchoring them both.

The storage shed echoed with the wet slap of skin on skin. Rescue boards rattled. A life vest fell from a shelf. She couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe—just felt.

“Turn around.”

“What—?”

“Turn. Around. Now.”

He pulled out with a grunt, spun her to face the wall, and bent her forward over the stacked beach towels. The moment her hands hit the crate, he was inside her again, deeper this time—rougher.

“Look at you,” he hissed. “Moaning like a whore, letting me fuck you in a damn shed.”

She couldn’t even deny it. Her eyes rolled back when his hand slipped around her front to rub harsh circles on her clit.

The noises were filthy. The air stank of sex and sweat and sun.

And when she came—biting down on her arm to muffle the scream—he kept fucking her through it, chasing his own high until his breath hitched.

Then he pulled out and finished across the curve of her ass, panting like he’d just survived a shipwreck.

Silence.

Only the sound of their breathing.

Her knees gave out. He caught her again, wrapped her up against his chest as her body trembled.

“…We just had sex on a crate of lost-and-found goggles,” she croaked.

Felix kissed her temple. “Hot.”

His breath was still ragged when he kissed her again.

Not gentle.

Not soft.

It was needy.

Y/N barely had time to register it. Her head spun, her thighs still trembled from the first time, but Felix was already reaching for her again, dragging her bikini bottoms all the way down this time and letting them fall around her ankles. She shivered.

“F-Feel like jelly,” she whispered.

“Then let me hold you up.”

He turned her, pressed her back against the shed wall once more, and hoisted her effortlessly—her legs wrapping around his waist on instinct.

His cock was hard again. Already.

She stared at him, breathless. “How do you even—?”

“I told you I wasn’t done.”

And just like that—he was inside her again.

No warm-up. No mercy.

She cried out, arms wrapping around his neck as he slammed into her, the motion jarring and raw and insane, but her body took it. Welcomed it. Soaked for it.

The surfboards rattled. Sand fell from the shelves. A whistle clattered to the ground.

He buried his face in her neck, sweat dripping from his temple to her collarbone.

“You feel so fucking good,” he growled. “Tight little pussy still clenching like she didn’t just milk me dry five minutes ago.”

She moaned and bit down on his shoulder to keep from screaming.

He fucked her harder.

The rhythm was relentless. The slap of his hips against her ass. Her heels digging into his back. Her hands desperately clawing at his lifeguard tank top. It was rougher than before—less about teasing, more about need.

She couldn’t even speak anymore.

Just moaned. Just whimpered.

His name on a loop in her mouth.

Felix. Felix. Felix.

“Gonna make you cum again,” he panted. “Wanna feel you squeeze me. Wanna hear those sweet little sounds you make when you lose it.”

“I—I can’t—”

“You can,” he snarled, and reached between them again, rubbing her clit with the kind of cruel rhythm that shattered her.

She came with a strangled gasp, head thrown back, nails digging into his shoulders.

But he didn’t stop.

Kept pounding into her while she was still spasming, overstimulated and whimpering, until he finally groaned her name and pulled out just in time—again—finishing hot and fast against her inner thigh with a choked moan.

They slumped against the wall together. Panting. Drenched. Shaking.

He looked down at her legs and laughed.

“You’re trembling.”

“No shit,” she mumbled into his chest. “I think my soul left my body halfway through.”

“I’m gonna have to carry you out of here.”

“Absolutely not.”

He kissed her again, this time softer. Lazy. Almost smug.

“…I love my life,” she whispered against his lips.

Felix grinned.

───୨ৎ────────୨ৎ───────୨ৎ───

POST-CREDIT SCENE (Wrap it up Marvel)

 

The air in the shed was thick—salt, sex, and shame clinging to the wooden beams.

Felix peeled a towel from the nearest crate and gently wiped between Y/N’s thighs, trying not to laugh when she squirmed.

“You okay?”

“No.” She was still breathless. “You broke me.”

“You’re walking. Eventually.”

He kissed her knee. Then her inner thigh. Then pulled her bikini bottoms back up, slow and gentle, like he hadn’t just ravaged her against the wall twice in a row.

He tucked himself back into his lifeguard shorts, ran a hand through his wild hair, and muttered, “We look so guilty.”

“We are guilty.”

She fixed her top, cheeks flushed, trying to rub some sand off her elbows with zero dignity left in her body. “I feel like I’ve got sunscreen in places it should never go.”

“Can i have your Number ?“ Felix interrupted her. She blinked at him. “I would even give you my Social Security Number“

Felix opened the shed door, the blinding sunlight making them both flinch like goblins.

Then—

“THERE you are!”

Yeji.

Standing ten feet away with a coconut in her hand and the biggest grin on her face.

Next to her—Chan. Shirtless. Holding a pool noodle like a sword.

Y/N froze.

Chan tilted his head. “You guys were gone for a while.”

Yeji took one look at Y/N’s flushed face, damp hair, and the towel clutched around her waist—and lost it.

Dropped her coconut. Fell to her knees. Screamed with laughter.

Y/N just stood there, mortified, as Yeji literally wheezed, gasping between fits:

“Your hair—your HAIR is still pressed flat on one side—you leaned against something! Oh my GOD—!”

Felix slid an arm around Y/N’s waist casually. “We were checking inventory.”

Chan raised an eyebrow. “In the shed?”

Felix: “A very… thorough inspection.”

The rest of the team started glancing over now. Hyunjin blinked at their reappearance, clocked the rumpled towel, the shell-shocked look on Y/N’s face—and immediately turned away, muttering, “Nope. Not my business.”

But Felix leaned into Y/N, kissed her hair, and whispered, “You good?”

She nodded. And then—louder, so everyone could hear:

“I love my life!”

She raised her Fist into the Air.

“I MADE IT ! The hard work paid OFF“

Felix snorted and pulled her to the Ocean to get her more Clean. 

[pukefactory]

Hey there! If you're comfortable with it, could you please make Coral Glasses x reader (preferably fem, but gn is alright too), who's pretty loud and active, and swoons over her very openly? Like, showering her with compliments, offering their help immediately whenever she needs something, stuff like that. I'd be grateful! Love your works a lot <3

.・゜✧ CRYSTALLINE SURF ✧゜・．

╰► Summary: A Compilation of Headcanons Featuring Coral Glasses X Reader Who Swoons Over Her

╰► Character(s): Coral Glasses (Ena: Dream BBQ)

╰► Genre: Headcanons, SFW

╰► Warning(s): None - Completely Safe!

╰► Image Credits: @JoelG

›› She tries to avoid you—but you’re literally everywhere. Coral Glasses has a sixth sense for chaos, and unfortunately (for her), you are its epicenter. Every time she tries to quietly slip into work, you’re already there—waving like a maniac and complimenting her hair or the way she blinks. “Y-you’re loud,” she stammers as her coral eye pulses like a warning beacon. “Why are you always around when I’m… trying to do literally anything?” She says it like she’s exasperated, but she still never walks away.

›› She has no idea how to handle compliments. You tell her she looks “ethereal today” and she just stands there, blinking. Sweating. Her coral twitches. “Are you… mocking me?” she whispers, absolutely scandalized. The worst part is, you’re not. You think she’s genuinely beautiful and weird and cool. Coral Glasses doesn’t know whether to file a complaint or cry into her tie.

›› You offer to help her with every single task—and she hates it. Kind of. “I have to file these blood samples into the anomaly drawer.” You, already holding a labeled container, “I’ll do it for you, gorgeous!” “I—no—this is government-grade biological chaos. This is not ‘cute.’” Still, she never actually stops you. She just hovers nervously and mumbles things like “Don’t die, please. It’d really complicate my week.”

›› She acts annoyed when you flirt, but secretly braces for it. You wink at her over the copier machine, and she makes this little strangled noise and trips over her own foot. “Why are you like this?” she mutters while simultaneously checking her reflection in the copier glass. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack? Is that the goal here?”

›› The only time she compliments you is under extreme stress. Coral doesn’t mean to blurt things out—but during high-pressure jobs, she panics. Once, she turned to you mid-crisis and screamed, “If we don’t make it out alive, I just want you to know your hair smells amazing and your face makes my job worse in a good way!” Then she immediately choked on her own words and pretended she blacked out.

›› You bring her little gifts and she keeps all of them. You once gave her a coffee mug that says ‘Don’t talk to me unless you’re a coral reef’ and she uses it every day. Another time, you drew a cartoon of her on a sticky note with the caption “My little suit-wearing heartthrob” and she pretends she threw it out—but you caught her staring at it in her desk drawer, blushing furiously.

›› She complains about your enthusiasm like it’s a virus. “I think you might be an emotional contagion,” she says once while you’re spinning in a chair near her. “Your energy levels are… violently disruptive.” You call her your “pretty little hater” and she goes rigid like a startled cat. “D-don’t say things like that out loud! People might think I’m involved with you!”

›› She talks to herself about you constantly. “I swear, if they wink at me one more time I’m going to combust. That’s a medical thing, right? People combust? Internally?” Coral mutters to herself in the hallway. “Did you say something, cutie?” “NO I DID NOT I WAS RECITING… UM… A WORK PRAYER!”

›› She develops an elaborate system of ‘casual avoidance’. She changes her walking routes. She pretends to take calls when she sees you. She even hides behind office plants. But the second you smile at her and say, “There you are, my favorite coral-colored cryptid!” she forgets all her escape tactics and just freezes like a Windows 95 error message. Her coral lens rotates nervously.

›› One day, after you’ve overwhelmed her with compliments and offers to hold her clipboard and brush her bangs out of her face, she just sighs. “…I don’t get paid enough to emotionally process you,” she says, completely defeated. “But if I… hypothetically… wanted to ask you on a date that would include minimal noise and zero touching, would you scream? Or faint?” You do both. She needs a cold drink and five minutes in a server room to recover.

[meinii]

“just-because”

summary: Sylus takes you out on a surprise date (๑> ₃ <)

content: fluff

୨୧･｡｡･♡･∴･♡･｡｡･୨୧

you have no idea where he’s taking you

Sylus only told you to be ready by seven, didn’t offer a clue about the plan, just dropped a single black box on the bed with a card that said, wear this for me

inside: a gown

not just any gown—one that fits your body like a secret whispered to silk. deep midnight in color, with delicate red accents that ripple like fire under light. the fabric flows when you walk, catching shadows and starlight all at once. it’s elegant. intricate. you in fabric form

you step into the living room, smoothing your hands over the skirt, only to find Sylus already waiting by the door. he’s dressed in black, as always, but tonight the sharpness of his tailored suit is softened by the smallest details—an undone button at his collar, the ruby crow pin at his chest, and the way his eyes stop on you like he’s forgotten how to speak

he doesn’t say anything at first

he just looks at you

“you’re staring” you tease, suddenly shy

“i’m trying to remember how to breathe,” Sylus says, voice low “you’re going to ruin me tonight”

you look down, flustered “you picked the dress”

“i didn’t think it’d look that good,” he mutters, more to himself than you, then he steps forward and offers his hand “come on, you’ve kept me waiting long enough”

he drives

not in one of his usual, inconspicuous cars—but a sleek, black luxury model you’ve never seen before. everything’s quiet inside, the city lights flickering past the windows while Sylus rests one hand on the wheel and the other on your thigh, thumb tracing idle circles, gaze locked on the road, but attention clearly on you

you keep trying to guess the destination

he doesn’t give it away

not until the elevator opens on the top floor of a building you’ve never noticed before—a towering place with crystalline walls and soft golden light spilling from inside. he leads you in without a word, ignoring the surprised looks from staff who clearly know him, guiding you past velvet-lined halls and private rooms… until you step into a glass-walled rooftop restaurant that steals the breath straight from your lungs

the view is unreal

the city sprawls below like something from a dream, all blurred lights and soft movement, stretching out in every direction. above, the stars are visible between drifting clouds and in the middle of it all—your table

lit by candlelight

a perfect arrangement of your favorite flowers waits at the center, delicate petals catching the flicker of flames. there’s no one else around. no other guests. no noise

just you. him. and the sky.

you blink “Sylus…”

he pulls out your chair for you, hand lingering at the small of your back “sit.”

you do, still dazed

he takes the seat across from you, resting his elbows on the table as he watches your expression shift—surprise, confusion, awe, and something softer, warmer. his smile turns smug, but there’s a gentleness under it, something only you ever get to see

“you like it?” he asks

“you did all this?”

“booked the restaurant. kicked everyone else out. had the dress made a month ago” he leans in slightly “i would’ve dropped rose petals from the sky, but i figured that was too much”

you laugh under your breath “you’re unbelievable”

“good unbelievable or bad?”

“good. really good”

he smiles just a little “good”

the food is flawless, each course arriving like clockwork, perfectly timed and plated like art. you talk. he listens. he talks. you tease. and every now and then, his foot brushes yours beneath the table, like he needs to remind himself you’re real

when dessert arrives—your favorite, naturally—you glance at him over the candlelight

“what’s the occasion?” you ask

he twirls the stem of his wine glass between his fingers “do i need one?”

“yes,” you say with a teasing grin “because this is way too perfect to be random”

Sylus leans back in his chair, eyes fixed on you like he’s memorizing something

“you’ve been through hell,” he says quietly “you’ve bled for me. cursed me. saved me. stayed with me”

you open your mouth, but he lifts a hand to stop you

“and i know i don’t say it the way you want to hear it. i don’t always give you soft things. but tonight, i wanted to give you something beautiful. because you are.”

your chest tightens

he stands, walking around the table, then crouches beside your chair. one hand on your waist, the other slipping up to your cheek

“this dress. this view. the flowers. none of it compares to you.”

you swallow hard “Sylus…”

he kisses you

slow. reverent. like you’re the last thing in the world he’s afraid to lose

when he pulls back, he whispers against your lips

“happy just-because.”

and somehow, that means more than any anniversary ever could

[mydearestbeloved]

Chapter 24 [Draft]

Sung Jinwoo/Trial Player!Reader

Content Warnings: Implications of being stabbed and decapitated.

[Masterlist🦋✨️]

Opening your eyes slowly, you found yourself back in that place.

The world that existed somewhere between reality and a dream, where the bejeweled night an ever-watchful presence over rows upon rows of spider lilies stretching out into the horizons. Where the stems of gently swaying crimson blooms surfaced from the shallow expanse of water, liquid ground a crystalline mirror to the galaxies above. The unknown breeze felt sacred, as though the universe itself dared not intrude.

"Excuse me," a voice called out softly, breaking the tranquility.

You turned, the flowing silken fabric of your dress trailing behind you like a whisper. Standing a few paces away, your gaze fell upon a man—a tall, rugged figure with a tattered ensemble. His appearance was worn, speaking of battles fought in places far harsher than this one. But it wasn’t the state of his attire that caught your attention—it was his sharp, more experienced, gray eyes and shaggy black hair.

He was achingly familiar, tugging at the edges of your memory.

A picture on page, one that reminded you so much of—

The man moved, dropping to one knee with his head bowed in solemn respect.

"I'm—"

"Sung Il-Hwan." his name fell from your lips as though it had always been there, just waiting on the tip of your tongue. Thus your voice carried certainty, soft yet steady. "There's no need to bow to me, Mr. Sung. Please, stand."

For a moment, he remained still. Then, the corner of his lips lifted in a quiet chuckle. “As expected, you already know my identity.”

He rose to his full height, his presence imposing yet not unkind. There was something about him—something that felt both formidable and comforting. It felt like he regarded you with a newfound warmth compared to the previous formality.

“Then, I believe this little one is yours."

Il-Hwan extended his hand, revealing a soft light cupped within his palm. As the glow dimmed, you saw it—a delicate, silvery-blue butterfly, its fragile body shimmering faintly. But your breath caught at the sight of its missing wing, the severed fragment lying beside it like a fallen petal.

"Aria!"

The name tumbled out of you, laced with panic. Without hesitation, you gathered the front of your dress and hurried toward him, mindful not to trip on the pooling fabric. The little beads clinking subtle chimes as chaining ripples formed beneath bare steps light, not a single splash to be seen.

Il-Hwan watched as you approached, his eyes softening, the quiet curiosity barely hidden now. His hand remained steady, allowing the weakened summon to crawl from his fingers to your cupped hands. Handling the broken wing with utmost care, he placed it beside the tiny creature.

Aria trembled faintly in your hold, her tiny movements making your brows furrow further.

“Mama…I’ve…returned…”

The small whimper at the end, carried through your bond, broke your heart.

Hush now, child. You’re in no shape to let out a tune.

To her, the sound was tender yet firm, urging her to rest. Your eyes traced the jagged edge of her missing wing—a clean, circular cut, as though a shard of crystal had severed it at high speed. A faint trail of glimmering dust clung to the wound, the remnants of her former splendor scattering like lost stars.

"Poor thing found me at an unfortunate time," Il-Hwan began, his tone apologetic. "She got caught in my skirmish with the Monarch of Frost. I managed to spot her just in time and shield her before it was too late."

He sighed, a tinge of regret, as if he wished this meeting had taken place under better circumstances. “I suppose you’ve been trying to reach me for quite some time?”

"Yes." you whispered, the word barely audible as you cradled Aria closer. Gently, you stroked her remaining wing with your thumb, channeling a soothing pulse of your healing into her form. The faint golden glow of your power intertwined with her oceanic glitter, igniting the smallest flicker of life back into her.

Still, Aria shivered, as if just now registering how freezing she was in contrast to your touch.

Did she absorb too much of the Frost Monarch’s magic as a defense mechanism? Then the opposing energy that managed to tied her over until now was—

"Thank you for saving her." you said at last, lifting your gaze to Il-Hwan with sincerest gratitude.

Il-Hwan waved it off with a small smile. "No need to thank me, Young Lady. It’s all in a day’s work."

His voice was lighthearted, but something flickered in his gray eyes. A shift so subtle, so fleeting, that it almost went unnoticed.

Sadness. Longing. A sorrow that lingered like the ghost of a memory.

For a single, unguarded moment, his smile faltered.

The words had left his lips so effortlessly, yet you could sense it—the quiet ache of a man who had once said them often, long before his life had unraveled.

A life in another time.

You wondered what he was thinking of in that moment. The past, his own struggles, the lives left behind, the moments missed, what he had to do now, what he could do now, with little chance to reconcile—his losses.

You couldn’t help but saw a reflection of him again.

Like father, like son—couldn’t have rung truer.

Before you could speak, Il-Hwan continued. “As a matter of fact, you saved me the effort.”

Before your eyes, his irises turned bright yellow, and your breath hitched.

"Young Lady, I have a message for you."

My body…why am I reacting like this?  

His words carried an off-placed weight, as though he were no longer just a man but a conduit for something far greater.

{Flee.}

The glitching voice—distant yet achingly familiar—sent a shiver down your spine. A pang of dread lodged itself deep within. A mounting of it with no identifiable source. At least, none that made sense.

Your heart pounded painfully against your ribs, and your throat started to close up, cutting off air supply. You took a step back—

Your hands twitched on instinct, a chain of motions you weren’t fully aware of, muscles bracing to envelop Aria in a protective cocoon. Subtle, hidden, as if one wrong move and you would—

“Ma…ma…?”

Aria’s weak, worried call echoed, but it was distant, muffled, as though she were calling to you from behind a thick veil. Your breath came short. You felt suffocated, like the air itself grew thick, pressing down on you with an unseen force.

{What are you doing?}

Even in this state, you managed a quick glance over her before sending her away—back home, back to safety. You had to. You had to.

"They would like to have an audience with you."

The words sent a ripple through your consciousness, like a drop of ink bleeding into water. You went rigid. It felt as though you had lost control of your body altogether. No, not lost—surrendered.

Was it because you had already predicted this? You had always known, that this moment would come?

{Move!}

Cold sweat trailed down the side of your—like a delayed reaction, your hand slowly came up to your cheek, where you swore you felt the droplet of moisture. Yet, when you touched the spot, it was dry, there was nothing there.

The glint of silver, the sharp tip as it was raised high felt like déjà vu.

"Due to circumstances," Il-Hwan added, his tone softening just slightly, "They would be honored if you took the first initiative."

You’re scared.

The thought was not your own, yet it was. Overlapping. Intertwining. A relentless loop that refused to cease.

Stab!

A sharp, blinding pain bloomed in your chest. You gasped, hand pressing against your sternum, fingers trembling as though expecting to meet the hilt of a blade that torn through your very core.

Scared for your children’s life.

“…Young Lady?”

Scared for you.

{RUN—

A scream tore itself from your throat—

Chop!

—And was swallowed whole by the nothingness.

Your legs buckled. You barely registered the sensation of falling, barely noticed when Sung Il-Hwan stopped mid-sentence and rushed to your side.

Both of your hands flew to your neck, fingers pressing frantically against your skin, feeling around, over and over, searching for something—Still there. They were still there. But your irises darted wildly, scanning the surroundings, the ground, as if making sure—making absolutely sure—that your head wasn’t rolling around somewhere else.

“A-ah… ugh…”

Your breath came in heaving gasps, dizzying as nausea churned, twisted your stomach violently. Your body convulsed, but no bile came up. Only saliva, thick and warm, slipping past your lips, trickling down your chin, and dripping into the water below. Mixing in the blooms’ reflections, tiny ripples expanding outward. Yet, even in your delirium, you had to be sure, you still needed to make sure—your shaking gaze dropped to your trembling fingers, the ones that brushed against the clear dampness, checking, checking—that it wasn’t red. That the coppery taste lingering on your tongue wasn’t real.

You dimly realized the hand rested against your back, firm yet careful, grounding you as reality sluggishly crept back into place.

Drip. Drop.

You remained in that hunched position, shoulders trembling, even as the phantom agony receded, leaving behind only an echo of pain and confusion. For how long, you couldn’t say. It was hard to pinpoint time in this strange space, but it felt like an eternity before you could even muster the effort to breathe properly again. Slowly, excruciatingly so, the searing pain pressing against your chest dulled with each inhale, eased just enough for you to think. The logic creeping back in, fighting through the haze of resurfacing horrors.

When you finally dared to look up, Sung Il-Hwan’s met your gaze, his irises no longer glowed that eerie yellow. Just the usual grey, filled with concern as he kneeled on your side.

The first coherent thought that surfaced was how you had just displayed an utterly disturbing breakdown in front of a very anticipated guest.

“My apologies. I don’t now what came over me.” A white handkerchief materialized between your fingers, and with as much composure as you could muster, you dabbed at your mouth, erasing the remnants of your episode, in a feeble attempt to salvage what little dignity you had left.

“About what you said before—"

“Are you okay, Young Lady?”

You stilled.

Am I?

The look in his eyes tugged something loose in your chest, made you feel small. Like a guilty child caught in a lie.

“I know we’re practically strangers,” he started, his voice gentle, measured.

Did he read my mind somehow?

“But this old man still has some great advices.” He jabbed a thumb toward himself, flashing an easy-going grin. Then, realizing he might’ve overstepped, might have come on too strong, his smile wavered slightly as he scratched the back of his head sheepishly. “Only if you want to talk about it, of course.”

A curious feeling unfurled in your chest.

This warmth. This concern. The kind that didn’t demand, didn’t expect, didn’t bargain.

It was not the wary deference of the Hunters. Nor the admiration of civilians. Not even the camaraderie of raid mates who called you ‘friend.’

Not conditional on experiences, didn’t need to be earned. Foundational, that exists simply because you are.

Steadier. Quieter. Certain.

Is this… how my children feel when I’m with them?

Was this what parental love felt like?

Don’t you remember?

The rhetorical question in your subconscious was met with startling certainty:

I don’t.

Because there was nothing to remember. Faces, voices, attachments—nothing before all of this. Only stories, books, pictures, songs, games—remnants of entertainment consumed in a life you no longer had access to.

And you hadn’t fully came to terms with that fact.

You buried those thoughts to be revisited another time. Were you running away? Maybe. But right now—

“Thank you. I…” You pulled your knees to your chest, tilting your head back to gaze up at the endless expanse above, trying to make sense of it all. “I’m not sure how to put it into words yet. There are still so much missing. I feel like I need to figure them out first, to piece together… well, everything.”

Il-Hwan studied you for a long moment, as if searching for something—once again, in a manner that reminded you so much of Jinwoo—before sitting down cross-legged, making himself comfortable beside you.

Take your time.

Together, the two of you sat beneath the vast, starry sky.

-----

It was silent between you for a while until he was the first to break it.

“It’s been about a decade, but somehow, your stubbornness reminded me of my son.”

You stayed silent and continued to listen.

“He’s supposed to be in his twenties now. I was around his age when I met the love of my life, his and my daughter’s mother. Now, I often wondered if he already has his own special someone.”

He will.

You closed your eyes, a fond smile tugging at your lips as you thought of your ever-reliable friend, letting the warmth of your love for her overshadow the quiet ache blooming in your chest.

…Bel would’ve loved that one. The thought made you huff a silent laugh. If that child of yours was here, she’d catch the unintended pun immediately.

How easier it is. To shift my focus elsewhere, from something just not meant to be.

“My love, my son, and my little daughter… I wonder how they are doing right now.” The longing in his voice was palpable. “I thought I could check on them while completing my mission, but I haven’t had the chance.”

{DO NOT, in anyway, teleport character <Sung Il-Hwan> to meet his family OR give him something to contact them, ‘Trial Player’.}

…Damn it.

You bit your tongue while Il-Hwan could only sigh.

“Well, I guess I can only hope to get one soon.”

You won’t. Your fist clenched on fabric. Not if everything goes according to the original.

When he turned to face you again, you met him head-on.

 “Do you have a question, Young Lady?”

Your lips pressed into a straight line, then you nodded. “How do I contact them?”

"Physical contact with their vessels, any one of them, is the only key needed." Il-Hwan scratched his head, looking slightly confused. “I’m not exactly privy to the details, but I was told you came across two of us before.”

Two?

You remembered your chance encounter with Thomas Andre, and you did note that he reacted strangely. A normal eye would only see how he froze like a statue, but a trained one would notice the slight tremble in his muscles, the visible veins as if he was struggling against something internally—Yikes. You suddenly felt bad if you were indeed the cause.

That was one. But two?

You didn’t recall coming across another Ruler’s vessel, except Jinwoo, but you were pretty sure Ashborn didn’t keep in contact with his former brothers-in-arms. Otherwise, they would know of his plan, and Sung Il-Hwan would already be aware of Jinwoo’s position—which he clearly wasn’t, judging by his reaction. So, the only other possible option you could think of was—

The Chairman.

Il-Hwan’s eyes turned bright yellow again, and that same uncomfortable feeling from before returned. It took a lot of effort, but you managed to suppress most of the unease this time.

Gone was his more relaxed expression, replaced by a reverent seriousness. The shift was sudden, unsettling—more so than before. A disturbing realization settled. This wasn’t just Il-Hwan speaking on behalf of an authority not his own.

This was the authority speaking.

"We will patiently await your call."

The silence stretched as Il-Hwan’s eyes returned to normal, his form less tense.

“Well,” he said, still somewhat taken aback by the revelation. “It looks like they really want to meet you. They don’t usually choose to possess a vessel like this.”

You knew that.

Of course, you knew that fact. It was made quite clear why the Rulers' vessels didn’t stand a chance against the Monarchs in their vessels—because they chose to borrow rather than take, unlike the Monarchs. That knowledge, however, didn’t make your situation any less stressful. If anything, it only made it worse.

What could the Rulers want with me?

That vision you saw back at the Demon Castle—the only memory you could associate with the scene you had experienced was the panels depicting the death of the Absolute Being, speared upon his throne.

The glint of silver, the sharp tip as it was raised high felt like déjà vu—

Your fingers twitched involuntarily.

I must think this through.

{ . . . }

…? System?

What was this... resentment, you felt?

Sung Il-Hwan seemed to notice your state, even without knowing the full context.

"I reckon this meeting doesn't count?"

His attempt to lighten the mood was poor, but you appreciated it nonetheless. The uneasiness lingered, but it did subside quicker thanks to him.

"No." You shook your head, mirroring his smile.

“From my understanding, this place is like a dreamscape. Only our thoughts are connected while our bodies are… 'asleep.' Well, at least they’re suspended… somewhere.” You winced slightly at your own explanation. “Sorry for the bad description, I’m still trying to figure it out—”

Instead of being offended or getting more embarrassed, Il-Hwan’s sudden laughing caught you off guard with how free it sounded. His shoulders shook, as if the weights he carried had been lifted—if only for this fleeting moment at the boundary between reality and dream.

“You finally stopped speaking like that,” Il-Hwan rasped after his laughter died down.

You blinked in confusion. “Huh?”

Il-Hwan only grinned. “'Pardon my crude explanation. I am currently in the process of studying the mechanism—'” His attempt to mimic your formal tone was wackier than anything else.

“—That’s the gist of what I got after we started talking for a while. I thought you’d go on and on like that.”

You coughed into your hand, eyes darting to the side in an attempt to save yourself. “That’s… that is how I normally talk—”

“Then you’re a good kid. Stop apologizing so much and cut yourself some slack.”

His hand ruffled your hair, leaving it slightly messy. You didn’t know exactly how to respond, other than nodding shyly.

“Okay.”

Il-Hwan’s grin stayed as he ruffled your hair a second time for good measure.

“So, what were you going to say about this place?”

“Ah.” You snapped out of it and continued where you last left off. “Since this place is like an imagined land, only the maker and their specific invitees are able to attend. I’m guessing this restriction is what canceled out your Ruler’s possession at the last moment.”

Sung Il-Hwan seemed to contemplate your words.

“My child—Aria is the invitation, your lifeforce is the requirement to enter. But,” You closed your eyes, recalling your last glimpse of her before you sent her away to be cared for by the others back in the garden. The silver of her wing had looked better, the seasick pallor not as pronounced as before, but she wouldn’t have been here if not for his help.

Your hands curled slightly as you exhaled. “I can't thank you enough, for also allowing her to feed off your lifeforce. I would have lost her otherwise." This time, it was you who bowed deeply to him, gratitude etched into every fiber of your being. When you straightened up, you held out both of your hands, staring straight into his eyes.

“I wanted to do something to repay your kindness.”

Sung Il-Hwan’s brows furrowed slightly, a hesitant smile on his face. “Young Lady, you don’t have to—”

“I want to.” The words came out firmer than you expected. You swallowed, steadying yourself.

You remembered those images vividly—the ones from the story, the ones that had once only been fiction to you. His body dissolving into shards of light, scattering into the wind. The embrace he shared with Jinwoo, the apologies for not being there, for not being enough. The image of Jinwoo standing there, forced to watch, unable to stop it. You remembered how your tears had dripped onto your phone screen, mirroring the ones Jinwoo could not shed fast enough.

It was as if you had felt his pain. As if you had lost your father, too.

Except now—you didn’t even remember what yours looked like. If you even had one.

Your fingers trembled slightly. “Please…” The plea barely made it past your lips, a whisper carried away by the unseen breeze. You cast your gaze downward, watching the way the red blooms swayed around you. “Please, let me do this for you.”

Silence stretched between you, punctuated only by the faint rustling of petals brushing against fabric.

Then, warmth.

Calloused, bandaged palms pressed against your own. You exhaled, only now realizing you’d been holding your breath. Your eyes fluttered shut as you focused, golden embers flickering to life between your entwined hands. You wasted no time, channeling a portion of lifeforce into him, hoping—praying—that it would be enough. Enough to prolong his time, to give him a chance not only to speak to Jinwoo, but to meet his wife and daughter as well.

Even if his body still crumbled in the end, even if you couldn’t change his fate completely, at least he could say a proper goodbye.

You saw the shadow of weariness hidden behind his smile; you could hear it in his voice as he talked. And now, you could feel it in the depths of his soul.

His wish was to be reunited with his family.

He had never asked for more than that.

And yet—

{Target cannot receive <Blessings of [][][][]>}

-----

What Il-Hwan noticed first was the squeeze on his hands, firm but trembling. And then, just as quickly, the warmth of magic was severed.

"Young Lady?" His voice was gentle, but concern laced his tone.

Your head remained down, strands of hair falling over your face, obscuring it from view, but he could see the way your shoulders began to shake. He noticed the faint ripples forming at your feet—quiet and unchecked, salty droplets dripping down onto the red-drenched field below.

"Why...?" Your voice wavered, barely above a whisper, but the rawness in it felt louder than any shout. "Why can't I...?"

When his hand rested upon your head again, your head snapped up at him. What was reflected in his grey eyes were your blank ones, so vacant they might as well have been hollow, carrying an exhaustion so deep it felt... ancient.

A toothy smile stretched across your tear-streaked face, a smile that just didn't belong. Despaired. Broken.

Twice too late, twice forbidden when you were able to help. And now, even here, in this imagined land, you were denied the chance to—not even to save him, but to grant his only wish that you now knew, for certain, would never get to be fulfilled in this lifetime. 

"You're dying."

You whispered the words as if saying them aloud would make them real, as if they hadn’t already settled deep into your bones. The muscles of your cheeks straining.

Yet, Il-Hwan wasn’t troubled by the sliver of mania laced in your voice, nor the anger buried beneath he knew was not aimed at him. Because, in that moment, he saw a child—the little girl who clung to his legs before he left for work, tears soaking into the fabric of his pants, unwilling to see her father leave for just a few hours.

Neither of them knowing, one was too young at the time to fully understand, that they wouldn't be able to see each other again.

So, with the same assuring smile he once gave his young daughter, he gently patted your head, and watched as the mask you wore shattered. Your lip trembling before you let out a sob, your hand clutched at him—at anything—just to ground yourself, to keep yourself from breaking further.

A lighthearted chuckle rumbled from Il-Hwan’s chest when your sobs slowly dwindled to small snivels.

"Didn’t I just say to cut yourself some slack, Young Lady?" His voice was warm, comforting.

You nodded, though it was pitiful, barely a gesture at all.

Then, the distant rumble echoed through the space.

Sung Il-Hwan patted your head one last time with that caring expression still plastered on his face. "Well, I suppose this is goodbye."

His hand left your head, and he turned—but your grip tightened on the other, halting him in place.

"Young Lady...?"

Your eyes fell on the silver band dangling from the chain around his neck. Your earlier thoughts resurfaced, your resolve finding its way back to you.

If you couldn’t give him more time— If you couldn’t grant him his wish— Fine.

Then the least you could do was ease his heart. Even if it was just by a little!

"Mr. Sung, your family is well!"

Admittedly, Sung Il-Hwan was startled when you near screamed the words out loud, but you were too focused on ensuring that he heard every single piece.

"Mrs. Sung is as healthy as can be. Jinah is studying hard to become a doctor!" Were you afraid that you wouldn’t get this chance again?

"And Jinwoo—!"

{The current information cannot be shared. Tread wisely, 'Trial Player.'}

"Jin... woo..." Your throat tightened.

Your hand squeezed his as the other fist crumpled the fabric of your dress. Your gaze locked onto Il-Hwan’s own, desperate to convey what words could not.

"He's doing the best he can."

You didn’t know what kind of face you were making, but Sung Il-Hwan did. He could see it, as clear as the bright sky above.

"He always has."

Something stirred. Distant, a familiar sensation.

And I wanted to make sure that—

Barely registering the pain anymore, the overwhelming fatigue, the utter emptiness within.

"They miss you..."

When on the edge, a single glimpse into fragmented memories. Fingertips ghosting over a face on a smooth surface. Aching at the sight, yet unable—unwilling—to look away.

He’ll reach his happy ending.

A spider's thread, and a lifeline lost somewhere in the abyss. A new will, a new reason to live, however flawed.

He and his loved ones.

"So, so much."

You clung to it. To a promised happiness.

{What about your own?}

{ . . . }

Silence.

The rumble drew closer, louder. Sung Il-Hwan’s mouth parted, then closed. The way his messy bangs cast a shadow over his eyes.

Perhaps it was a trick of the light, the way his shoulders trembled.

Then, his voice, quieter this time. "Young Lady, may I ask your name?"

Had you said something wrong? Had you overstepped?

"I'm... (Name)..." You took a deep breath to try and quell the nervousness. "You can call me (Name), Mr. Sung."

"(Name)."

For some reason, you flinched at the way he said it. Not out of fear, but uncertainty. What was it in his tone that tugged at your heartstrings?

Then, he turned to you fully, and your breath caught.

"It is truly the highest of honors to meet you, Young Lady."

Warmth. You felt... warm.

Thank you.

The tiny butterflies of light fluttered rampantly from every direction, obscuring view. The cracks working their way in from the edges, the world shattering.

You were forced to let go of his hand.

"And thank you for answering my inquiry, (Name)."

Following those last words, was a voice filled with contentment.

And then, you woke up.

End Note:

Unedited Draft of [25/01/2025]

Can you all tell how many times I cried while writing this chapter? Or am I just that sensitive? 🥲

I hope my portrayal of Sung Il-Hwan in this chapter fits in his character at least.

Anyway, if it's not obvious, the "inquiry" Sung Il-Hwan referred to is the-"I wonder if my son already has his special someone.”

So, in a nutshell: We just got father-in-law's approval, and we didn't even realize it (at least, not currently in the story). 😉

[moonyeyedstar]

War is Over- Regulus Black x f!reader (smut)

*18+*

December 24th, 1981

Regulus had disappeared years ago.  Some have mourned him, while others cursed his name.  You had a feeling buried deep inside that he was still out there.  The scent of him lingered on the tip of your nose, when you closed your eyes your last moments with him replayed.  The way you sobbed, begging him to stay and not hunt for Voldemort’s Horcruxes.  The way he consoled you when he knew he was the one who was about to face death on his journey.  You were filled with a fit of anger so pure it made you hate him, hate him for leaving you.  You pleaded for Regulus to take you with him, aid him, be by his side, and die next to him.  Regulus’s last wish was for you to hide until the war ended.  He purchased a chateau in France for you to reside in and you have not left since.  Every day for years you paced the same lonely halls and dreamed of what could have been.

Another Christmas had come, the elves decked the halls and prepared a feast for one.  The hope for any visitors was grim after the failed attack set at the Potters on Halloween.  They had survived by a stroke of luck.  According to the Prophet they had relocated outside of England.  The paper hadn’t arrived yet.  You had sat by the bay window in your study and read yesterdays over again as snow dusted the Earth around you, a cold crystalline veil.  The fresh canvas warning you of the winter left to come as we long for nature’s rebirth each spring.  You lit a freshly rolled cigarette and let it hang delicately from your lips as you searched for your matchbook.

As you stood, there was a crack that echoed from the main entryway.  You rushed out of your study and looked down the staircase to find him.  Regulus.  Oh, Regulus.  He looked horrid, paler, and thinner than ever.  His clothes were practically rags and his frame shrunken.  You stood frozen, this must have been a dream or a hallucination.  Or maybe you were finally passing and being reunited.  Whatever it was, it was miraculous.

“My darling,” his voice cracked.  It was real.  You gasped, tears streaming down your face before you even had the chance to wrap your mind around everything that was happening.

“Regulus!”  You bolted down the stairs, skipping half the stairs before you flung yourself into his arms.

“Oh, my darling,” he used the last of his remaining strength to grasp you tightly against his chest.  Regulus was sobbing into the top of your head as you clutched his shirt.  It felt as if the two of you were the only ones inhabiting the entire planet.  As if the world had stopped spinning and time itself froze for you.

“H-How,” you choked out between sobs, “I mean I-I knew you- I knew you were not- I knew you could not- I knew you were out there.”

“Do not worry yourself with that right now my darling, I have waited for this moment since I left,” Regulus cupped your face, sniffling back his own tears as his thumbs gently swept across your tear-streaked cheeks.  You focused on his glistening icy eyes.  He was so beautiful.  Without wasting another second you crashed your lips onto his.  Regulus’s hand slid down your cheek and to your waist.  His grip was gentle at first but as the kiss you shared grew hungry so did his grip.  He dug his fingertips into your side while his other hand continued to hold your face.

“Oh Regulus,” you moaned desperately into the kiss, your body instantly craving more, your entire body heated as a slickness grew between your thighs.  A sensation you had not felt in what seemed like a lifetime.  Regulus picked you up and laid you uncomfortably on the staircase, his lips not leaving yours.  Your hands grasped the raggedy cloth that separated you from his frail chest.

Regulus ground his hips down against yours, aching to bury himself deep inside you, needing to be as close to you as possible, wishing he could crawl under your skin.  He gasped desperately against your skin before trailing wet sloppy kisses along your jawline and then down your decolletage.  You let out a moan as you shuddered under his touch.  Goosebumps covered every inch of your skin.  Much to Regulus’s relief, he was twitching in his pants, his body agreeing with his mind and readying itself to fill your aching desire.

“Merlin, you don’t know how I've longed to feel your skin against mine,” his hands worked frantically to rid you of your clothing.

“Please Regulus, I need you,” you kissed his jaw, sitting up and nipping at his earlobe as he undressed you, your eyes glistening up at him, begging him.

“Fucking hell, you’re so perfect,” he stared down at you as he undressed himself.  Your eyes flickered down to his cock as he bobbed against his stomach after being freed from the restraint of his trousers.  He was perfect.  “I love you,” he spoke breathlessly as he lined himself up and slowly pressed himself into your tight cunt.

“Oh, Regulus,” you moaned out gaspily.  Feeling yourself stretched around him after all these years was the closest to heaven you might ever get.

“I love it when you say my name,” he moaned and moved his hips slowly, his stomach doing flips, he knew he was lucky enough that his body still worked for him, and thinking he would last long was pushing his own luck.

“Oh fuck Regulus,” you moaned out as he began to pick up his thrusts, he moved slow but hard keeping his thrusts short.

“You feel so good around me,” he whined as his hips spasmed from the way your cunt throbbed around him, grasping his cock desperately.

“Merlin,” you moaned, “I love your cock,” you cried out as your clit began to ache, in need of his attention.  You slipped your hand down between your bodies and rubbed circles on your clit.  Regulus quickly took over for you and rubbed eager circles on your clit making a knot grow in your stomach.  “Oh fuck, I am so close,” you whined and tensed up.

“Cum for me, my darling,” he whimpered and kissed you again, your bodies pressed flushed against one another as his hips stuttered and he shot hot laces of himself into your tired cunt.  The feeling of him filling you up sent you over the edge, your hips bucked and every muscle in your body tensed.

“Oh fuck,” you cried out as he went limp on top of you.  The both of you lay in silence as you focused on catching your breath.

“I love you so much,” Regulus cupped your face.

“I love you too, I love you more than anything,” you blinked back tears.

“Let’s take a bath, darling, and get ready for dinner.”

***

The elves rid the table of the dinner plates and prepared to bring out dessert.  You smiled at Regulus, your heart warmed by his return.  The warm lights on the tree shone around him.  He was like an angel.  You could never manage to lose him again.  Regulus stood and moved closer to the tree, nodding towards you to join him and you did, rushing to his side.  Regulus took your hands and kissed your nose before dropping down on one knee and taking a velvet box out of his pocket.  You felt your heart get caught in your throat.  Oh my god.

“My darling, I can never imagine another second spent away from you. Will you please marry me?”  Regulus opened the box, revealing a gorgeous diamond glittered in the light under the tree.

“Oh god, yes! " you cried, eagerly pushing your hand towards him. He effortlessly slipped the ring on and pulled you into his warm embrace.

You spent the rest of the evening glued to each other. Regulus played the piano, and you listened. He danced with you and spun you around. You ate dessert by the fire and watched the snow pile around you. It was perfect.

//Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!  I hope you enjoyed it! 

[trancylovecraft]

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ WANDERILLUSTREOUS!: PROLOGUE!

(YANDERE GENSHIN VARIOUS x READER)

[F/N] [L/N], A twenty-two year old college student goes about her mundane life. Most people would describe her as content, And maybe [F/N] would've described it as such too- Her life. Over and over again, Day after day, The cycle never stops. That is, However, Until she suddenly drops into Genshin Impact out of nowhere. In any other case, [F/N] might have been glad to be there. In a fantasy land where she had only ever visited in her dreams, With a feeling she couldn't describe flooding her entire being. However, [F/N] couldn't be further from excited.. She had never played Genshin in her life. [F/N] threw her head into her hands, Holding back the urge to scream. “I’m absolutely screwed, Aren’t I?”

*ੈ✩‧₊˚AO3 LINK *ೃ༄

GENDER: Femme LIST OF YANDERE'S: https://pastebin.com/ErsuA2cz SONG: Larger Than Life - Pinkzebra NOTE: SO UHM HI. THIS IS THE PROLOGUE TO UHM MY NEW FIC UHHHH- so ive been getting into genshin big time and uhm ive kinda got a new hyperfixation now so hERE IT IS IN WRITTEN FORM.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ MASTERLIST *ੈ✩‧₊˚˚ NEXT PART

What the actual hell?

[F/N]'s breath hitched in the morning dawn.

Her body was heavy like a weight was pushing down on her chest, Her eyes hazy, Yet they sparkled like stars under the dawnlight. Beginning to trickle down her face at the chill that batted in her eyelashes.

What was this?

This feeling.

Dew trickled down her face, Fresh from last night's rain and glimmering in the breaking dawn.

She tried not to itch at the frigid trails, No matter how much they unsettled her skin. Tried not to move around in the mush of the mud, Because the way it was settled cushioned her back just right.

The wind blew throughout every blade of grass, Every sweet flower and dandelion around. Leaves rustled on their branches, Little robins hopping around and tweeting their tune. The smell of dew and saccharine was rife in the air.

She breathed it in, Her lungs flooding with life.

It was so blinding, The sun, Burning at her eyes yet she couldn't find it in herself to close them. Not when the sky was so beautiful, So wonderful. Shades of aurora pink and sunset yellow splotching across the great canvas above, Birds sailing across it, Their wings struck wide and free as they only grew to be dots in the distance.

How could [F/N] ever look away?

She breathed in, A fresh wave of air entering her body. That feeling no one could describe, That chill that coated her skin, Her body completely at peace. Eyes forever staring up at the open sky that welcomed her with open arms. 

Tranquillity, Serenity, Exaltation. None of them were a good fit to the way [F/N] felt in that single moment.

Her mind fluttered for a second, Flickering on like the ember on a lighter.

Her eyes widened, Memories rushing back into her mind.

"Wait.. Where am I?!"

⭒❅✸✪✸❅⭒

Well.. This is bizarre.

"There's absolutely no way.. This can't be real.." [F/N] muttered in utter horror. Her eyes wide, Body rigid as she stared dead at the figure standin- No. Not standing, The correct term would be floating.

What looked to be a small little girl floated mid-air, Only a few feet away. Her eyes big and round, Shaded the colour of the night sky and staring happily at [F/N]. She was oddly dressed in a poofy, intricately embroidered white dress and matching elvish boots. 

[F/N] stood on the shore of who-knows-where, Having dragged her aching legs out of the field she had found herself in and had somehow got here.

A shoreline with impossibly beautiful sights, Crystallin blue waves crashing against the unlittered sand and leaving frothing seafoam in it's wake. Rocks and other formations cracked out of the water, Homing the chittering crabs and other sea-life that dared to venture there.

Not to mention the surrounding cliffs, Rocky and unbelievably high, Unlike any kind of cliffside [F/N] had ever seen. She could've been convinced she was somewhere near the swiss alps. It was beautiful, Absolutely beautiful.

And it made [F/N] all the more uneasy.

"This- This is just impossible..!" [F/N] held her face in her hands, Breathing unsteady. She would've began pacing if not for the fear she had for the crabs and their chattering pincers, Eyeing them warily from the gaps in her fingers.

"Are you alright? Paimon is worried about you!" The girl- Paimon, Gasped as she watched [F/N] hastily shuffle away from the beach crabs, Hands sliding up to grasp clumps of her hair in distress.

[F/N] took a jolting step back when Paimon floated a little too close, Startled by sudden movement. Her eyes snapped over to look at the fairy, Darting from head to toe, Affirming that it was that odd attire that she was wearing.

Sure- She was oddly dressed. But the weirdest part?

[F/N] recognised her.

And [F/N] had fished her out of a whirlpool in shallow tide.

"Paimon thinks that you need to take a deep breath in! Crabs are scary, But they can't be worse than that whirlpool you saved Paimon from! Paimon would've been a goner if it wasn't for you..!" Paimon cheers as she claps her hands, Giddy expression on her round face as she drifted nearer to [F/N].

She, In turn, Let out a rather shaken yap.

"I-I.. I didn't even know I could do that..?! I don't even know why I even tried that..!"

This.. This was Paimon? Paimon, The mascot of Genshin Impact, And she was floating right in front of her thanking her. Directly. This couldn't have been real, [F/N] must've hit her head on something or other-

Like.. There was no way this could be real, Right? There must be some rational explanation. A dream. A coma. Some really deep sleep that [F/N] just needs to pinch herself out of, Right?

Though if the twigs scraping at her ankle as she walked earlier wasn’t enough..

[F/N] sniffled.

Ugh. God. This was all so confusing.

"I can't.. Just please, Tell me I'm dreaming, Paimon. Tell me this is all just some big scenario I've dreamt up inside my head and that I'm gonna wake up any minute now.." [F/N] almost pleaded as her knees began to buckle, Lowering as she collapsed, Shins burying into the sand of the shore.

This couldn't be happening, It just couldn't.

"Paimon doesn't understand, But she knows how it feels to feel scared and confused..!" Paimon said, In attempt to console her. "Do you wanna tell Paimon what's wrong? Maybe Paimon can help you out!"

[F/N] lifted her head from within her hands, Breathing uneasy as she watched Paimon slowly float down to her level. This was real, Wasn't it? How could this be a dream, [F/N] knew what dreams were like, Both lucid and otherwise, And it was nothing like this.

[F/N] let out a shuddering breath, Trying to calm her nerves, Swallowing back her apprehension.

"Yeah.. Yeah- You're right- I should tell you what's wrong, I'm sorry- I just saved you and now you need to deal with me breaking down in front of you.." [F/N] smiled nervously, Trying to laugh off her unease and discomfort- Though not very successfully.

Where would she even begin?

How could she begin?

[F/N] groaned as she hunched over, Collapsing onto her backside instead of her knees. Damn. [F/N] felt like she was stranded on an island, But at least the sand felt nice against her skin.

"I.. I don't think I'm from this world."

"Huh..?" Paimon tilted her head to the side, Eyes lighting up at the claim.

"I.. It's hard to explain but.. I'm not from this world- I think I might have somehow been transported here by.. Well.. I don't know how. One minute I was lying in my bed and the next.." [F/N] trailed off, Shaking her head as she felt her hands grasp the hems of her shirt.

Breathe in, Breathe out.

"It happened so quick.. I.. I was just up late reading on my phone when suddenly some kind of light just swallowed the room." [F/N] continued on, Trying to make sense of what had happened to her. "It.. It felt so sickening- It made my head begin to throb but then.. But then I felt great, If for only a second.. And then I woke up in a nearby field.. My bed nowhere in sight."

Paimon listened on, Her frown getting more and more present on her round face. [F/N] continued on, Her voice beginning to shake as she looked up at Paimon, Who .

Paimon hmphed.

“So.. If Paimon understands this correctly.. You’re from another world? You’re not from Teyvat..?!” She seemed almost astonished by the thought, Almost in disbelief at the mere thought that [F/N] wasn’t from around here.

She couldn’t blame the poor fairy, [F/N] was just as confused as she was.

“Yeah.. It.. It’s kind of hard to believe- I know. But you need to understand that one minute I was lying in bed- The next- I was here!” She stressed, Her voice sounding more and more strained by the minute.

It was hard not to break down again, Not to try lose her mind.

“Hmm..” Paimon hummed in thought as her sparkly eyes roamed over [F/N] and her sweaty/dirty attire. It was strange clothing. Nothing like Paimon had known- No cloaks- No skirts- No intricate leather corset with floral designs-  

No. [F/N] was wearing a large pastel-pink hello-kitty t-shirt she used for pyjamas, A pair of oversized fleece bottoms to match, Flowing down to her heels. Paimon hmphed at the sight of the mascot, Hand on her chin in thought.

Damn, [F/N] wished she had proper shoes.

“Well.. Paimon believes you! Paimon doesn’t think that anyone wearing something as weird as that can be from around here!” Paimon concludes, A triumphant smile crossing her face as well as her arms, Poofy sleeves puffing up along with her rosy cheeks.

[F/N] let out an awkward giggle.

“Yeah.. Uhm.. Where is here anyways?” She asked as she looked around, Eyes roaming across the steep cliffs and the flowing grass rife with the wind flowing through them. Blinking as she swallowed back her trepidation.

“Mondstadt! One of the seven regions of Teyvat! Oh.. Wait, You probably don’t know what Teyvat is, Huh..” Paimon hummed in thought.

Mondstadt?

Wow. [F/N] really had been Isekai’d, Huh.

Now, Of course, In any other situation- In any other fanfiction or anime that [F/N] had read watched and watched, This would be a dream scenario for her. There was even times where she had wondered what it’d be like 

Chewing on her pen as she did her schoolwork, Conjuring up scenarios in her head as she tried to get some shut-eye, Or just walking down the street on the way to her part-time. It was all apart of her routine, Daydreaming, Sometimes she’d even consider it something she’d like to happen.

In one of her favourite animes perhaps where she could be the insert that everyone loved and rooted for. She could be the person envisioned in her head. A guilty pleasure if you will, But [F/N] wondered who didn’t have those?

That’s what her ‘x readers’ were for.

It was an escape, A get-away from her ordinary life.

But to be completely and utterly honest?

…

[F/N] had never played Genshin in her life.

She threw her head into her hands, Holding back the urge to scream.

“I’m absolutely screwed, Aren’t I?”

[angelremnants]

A TALES OF... l Tides and Mishaps

OR.. After your strange ordeal, you find yourself brought to Asgard, where you're to face a trial for your unusual bond with your necklace. With Loki forcing his company onto you, you both go through a tense encounter that leaves both of you soaked, disheveled and wondering what will happen next.

pairing : Loki Laufeyson x f!reader

warnings : Mature themes (+16), mild suggestive content, power dynamics, flirtation and teasing, unresolved sexual tension, mild language. Proceed with caution if you're sensitive to such material.

word count : 11.4k

author's notes : I am back, baby! Finally finished with my exams, and we're celebrating with this ficlet! It adds more depth to the series' lore while sprinkling in some playful moments. Writing this felt essential to set the stage for the spicy plot I’ve been itching to dive into.

Find the continuation here.⠀(18+—MDNI.)

(ao3 version)

The Bifrost roared to life, a maelstrom of light and sound that seemed to swallow the world whole. For one heart-stopping moment, you felt weightless, as though the very air had been torn from your lungs. And then, just as suddenly, it was over.

Your feet hit solid ground, though it didn’t feel it as much—it didn’t have the same firmness as Earth’s soil. The surface beneath you was smooth, crystalline, and alive with shifting colors. You stumbled slightly, catching yourself against the closest steady presence, which just so happened to be Loki.

“Do try to stay upright,” he drawled, steadying you with a hand on your arm before stepping back with exaggerated grace.

You blinked, regaining your balance as you fixed him with a glare. “You could’ve warned me.”

“And miss that look of sheer terror? Absolutely not,” he replied with a smirk, releasing you as if it were beneath him to linger too long.

Your retort died on your lips as your eyes took in the sight before you: Asgard. The city glimmered like something out of a dream, its golden spires piercing the heavens, the sky above it painted in hues you couldn’t name. Rivers of light wove through the air like threads in an invisible loom, casting an otherworldly glow over everything.

Your jaw dropped. “It’s… it’s…”

“Glorious?” Loki supplied, clearly enjoying your reaction based on the indubitable edge of pride in his voice. “Magnificent? Breathtaking? Go on, I’ve got all day.”

“Overwhelming,” you finished, still gaping.

“Ah, a new one,” he said with mock surprise. “How refreshing.”

Before you could formulate a response, the sound of footsteps echoed across the bridge. An imposing figure approached with the deliberate, measured pace of someone who carried the weight of millennia on his shoulders. His golden eyes swept over you, lingering for a moment longer than you were comfortable with before settling on Loki, narrowing slightly.

“Prince Loki,” he saluted with a small nod, his voice low and resonant.

“Heimdall,” Loki replied smoothly, his tone laced with feigned civility. “No need for that intimidating look. I am precisely where I’m supposed to be.”

“Rare, but true,” Heimdall said, his gaze shifting back to you. He studied you for a moment, his expression unreadable. “You are the one who bears the gift.”

You hesitated under the weight of his gaze. “That’s me,” you said with an awkward smile, trying for a tone that sounded casual but landed somewhere closer to nervous.

Heimdall’s piercing stare softened slightly, though a flicker of something unreadable danced behind his golden eyes. “Perhaps…” he murmured as if speaking more to himself than to you.

“Perhaps?” you repeated, frowning. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He ignored your question, instead turning his attention to Loki. “And you brought her here in due form? Color me surprised—perhaps your talk of redemption isn’t entirely hollow after all.”

Loki’s smirk deepened, as though the mere idea of Heimdall questioning him brought him endless amusement. “Oh come along, Heimdall, have some faith in me will you? Thor was otherwise occupied, so yes, I am the one who delivered our little anomaly to Asgard. Do try not to look so surprised.”

Heimdall’s gaze flickered back to you, and this time his expression was unreadable. “You assume much, Loki, as always. There is more to this one than meets the eye.”

You blinked, your brow furrowing. “Uh, hello? Cryptic much?”

Instead of gracing you with an answer, Heimdall turned and began walking toward the city, his stride as unyielding as the bridge beneath your feet. “Come. There is much to discuss, and the Allfather will not wait.”

You exchanged a confused glance with Loki, but he only shrugged, clearly uninterested in dissecting Heimdall’s cryptic words.

“Don’t let him get into your head,” Loki said, following after the gatekeeper with an air of feigned indifference. “He enjoys making everything sound mysterious and profound. It’s practically a pastime.”

But you couldn’t shake the weight of Heimdall’s words as you drew closer to the city. More than meets the eye. It was an idea that gnawed at you as you stared at the golden gates ahead, a growing knot of unease twisting in your stomach.

Whatever awaited you inside the halls of Asgard, you suspected it would be more than you were prepared for.

⠀⠀

Soon enough, the small group reached the golden gates of Asgard which opened with a slow, reverent creak, revealing the splendor within. As you stepped across the threshold, you felt your breath hitch. The palace was impossibly vast, its ceilings arching so high above that they seemed to disappear into the ether. Columns of gleaming gold lined the grand hall, their surfaces etched with intricate runes that shimmered faintly as though alive. Sunlight poured in from massive windows, casting kaleidoscopic patterns on the polished floors.

“I’m starting to think you people don’t do subtle,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

Loki, walking beside you with his usual swagger, smirked. “Subtlety is overrated. What you see here is the peak of sophistication and culture.”

“I get where your dramatic flair comes from now. Feels like you’re compensating for something,” you shot back, unable to resist to the temptation of the snark.

“Compensating?” Loki scoffed, his lips curling into a mischievous grin. “Darling, if Asgard were compensating, we’d have built two palaces and made them float.”

You snorted, shaking your head. “Right, because subtlety really is your strong suit.”

“Subtlety,” he said, stepping ahead with a flourish while twirling his cape as if to make a point, “is for those who have nothing worth showing off.”

Ahead of them, Heimdall paused and turned just enough to give Loki a pointed look. “Do try to behave,” he said dryly. “We are in the presence of the Allfather’s court, after all.”

Loki sighed dramatically. “Always the stickler, Heimdall. I assure you, that my behavior will be exemplary. Can’t guarantee the same for our invitee over here.”

You raised an eyebrow but wisely chose not to comment. Instead, you focused on the grand hall ahead, where grand statures loomed at the far end seemingly watching over the entrance of the throne rooms. God, must all Asgardians be so tall?

Two guards in shining armor led you through the labyrinthine halls, their expressions stoic, their silence impenetrable. You clutched your neck where the artifact had affixed itself weeks ago, the golden runes etched into your skin glowing faintly under your touch. It hadn’t hurt, but it had refused to let go, as if it had claimed you. Those wretched SHIELD scientists on Earth had no answers. Neither did you.

A voice broke through your thoughts as you reached the throne room. "The Allfather will see you now."

The massive doors creaked open, revealing a short but intimidating old man seated on his throne, the ever-watchful Heimdall leading the troupe and striding to pay his respects. Guess not, after all. A gorgeous and graceful lady sat beside him, her serene expression offering a sliver of comfort amidst the tension. You stepped forward hesitantly, feeling like you had sinned for even letting your feet brush against the polished floor.

"Come closer," Odin commanded, his voice echoing through the chamber. You obeyed, feeling small beneath his gaze.

Even from a distance, his presence was imposing. Draped in regal robes of deep crimson and gold, the Allfather sat upon a throne that seemed carved from starlight itself. His one remaining eye fixed on you as you approached, sharp and unyielding. The queen beside him held an elegance that was a stark contrast to the weight of Odin’s authority.

As you drew closer, you felt the weight of their scrutiny settle on you. You were acutely aware of your attire—a basic white shirt, paired with a burgundy leather jacket and jeans, entirely impolite for the occasion. The contrast between the modern, casual outfit and the ancient, sacred setting was striking, and it felt as though you were wearing a banner of your inadequacy. The artifact bound to your neck—the ornate, ancient-looking jewelry you hadn’t been able to remove—seemed to pulse faintly under their gaze, as if sensing the gravity of the moment.

However, beneath the surface, there was an almost surreal feeling tugging at you. You had been stripped of your usual layers, your defenses, your control—forced to stand before these gods and be judged.

You stopped at the base of the dais, and Heimdall stepped forward, bowing deeply. “Allfather. I present the mortal who bears the artifact.”

Odin’s gaze shifted to you, and the air seemed to grow heavier. You swallowed hard, unsure whether to bow, curtsy, or just stand there and hope you didn’t offend anyone. Your voice faltered as you glanced at the ground and stuttered, “Do I... Do I bow, or—?” Your words trailed off, feeling absurd in the silence that stretched between them.

Odin’s expression hardened, but there was a brief flicker of something—amusement, perhaps—before he spoke. “You stand as you are, mortal. Your presence here has already spoken volumes.”

The silence hung thick, and you straightened, hoping you hadn't overstepped, but unsure if you had done enough. Loki’s absence of protest was loud in its own way, though.

“You’ve brought her here safely,” Odin said, his voice deep and resonant, carrying the weight of eons. “Good.”

Then his gaze moved to Loki, narrowing slightly. “And you. I had expected Thor to complete this task, yet it is you who stands before me. Explain.”

Loki’s posture straightened, his usual smirk fading into something more restrained. “Thor is off-world, tending to a matter of great importance,” he said smoothly. “I was the logical choice to retrieve her. After all, who better to guide a mortal through the complexities of our realm than I?”

“Or to exploit her presence for your amusement,” Odin countered sharply, his tone cutting.

Loki’s lips pressed into a thin line, but he didn’t falter. “I’m here because I was entrusted with the task. And I fulfilled it.”

“You are supposed to be on house arrest, boy—”

Frigga stepped forward then, her voice gentle but firm. “And had he not gone, we wouldn’t have the chance to meet her, would we, my king? She stands before us unharmed.”

You sneaked a glance at Loki out of the corner of your eye, and for a moment you saw something entirely unfamiliar. The usual sharpness in his demeanor, the endless supply of biting wit and bravado, seemed dulled under Odin’s glare. His shoulders were tense, his jaw tight, and his hands clasped behind his back as if restraining himself. You’d never seen him so repressed before, so small beneath someone else’s authority. It unsettled you more than you cared to admit.

Odin’s gaze lingered on Loki for a moment longer before he shifted his focus back to you. “What do you know of the artifact you carry?”

“Not much,” you admitted, your voice steadier than you expected. “I found it during a trip to Sweden. The moment I picked it up, it latched onto me. I’ve tried everything—pulling it off, cutting it, even letting some organization poke at it with their fancy tech.”

Loki smirked beside you. “Charming.”

You ignored him. “It doesn’t hurt me, but sometimes it feels like it’s… alive. Like it’s trying to tell me something.”

Odin’s expression didn’t change, but there was a flicker of something in his eye—curiosity, perhaps, or recognition. “It is no ordinary artifact,” he said at last. “Its origins are older than even this realm. We will determine its purpose and its bond to you, but the process will not be easy.”

You frowned, your fingers brushing against the cool, smooth surface of the artifact. “What does that mean?”

Instead of answering directly, Odin raised his staff, Gungnir, and tapped it once against the polished floor. The chamber darkened, and the golden light of Asgard’s magic rippled through the air. A projection began to form before you—a shimmering, ethereal image of Yggdrasil, its vast branches stretching infinitely. At its roots coiled the immense, terrifying form of a serpent, its scales dark and glimmering with an otherworldly sheen.

“This,” Odin began, his voice reverberating through the room, “is Níðhöggr, the wyrm who once gnawed at the roots of Yggdrasil, threatening the very balance of the Nine Realms. Long before my reign, even before the reign of my father Borr, the great serpent clashed with my grandfather, Búri. Their battle raged for days, shaking the very foundation of existence.”

The projection shifted, showing an imposing figure clad in ancient armor, wielding a glowing axe as he fought the massive serpent. As the battle raged, one of Níðhöggr’s scales fell, pulsing with the chaotic energy of Yggdrasil’s roots.

“When Níðhöggr was finally defeated by my grandfather the late Búri and cast into obscurity, this single scale remained—a fragment of its power, imbued with the raw magic of Yggdrasil itself,” Odin continued. “It was believed lost, hidden from both gods and mortals alike, until now.”

The projection faded, and the light returned to the chamber. Odin’s gaze fell heavily on you, his expression unreadable. “That scale, the Wyrmscale, has bound itself to you. Why it has chosen a mortal remains to be seen, but its attachment is no trivial matter. It may seek to awaken something within you—or to serve as a harbinger of something far worse.”

You stared at him, your chest tightening as you processed the weight of his words. “And… what does that mean for me? What happens now?”

“That is why you’re here,” Heimdall interjected, his tone solemn, stepping forward. “To be tested.”

Odin nodded gravely, his expression unwavering. “The Hollow of Trials. It is a place where the balance of the realms is tested, a sacred site known only to a few. It is said that those who enter must confront the deepest parts of themselves, for the cave reveals not only your strengths but your weaknesses, your fears, and your potential. It is a place of transformation, where even gods must face their trials to gain wisdom and power.”

You raised an eyebrow, eyeing the seriousness of Odin and Heimdall before turning to Loki, whose face was as unreadable as ever. You had to admit, that the description sounded intense. But you weren’t about to let the solemn atmosphere throw you off. “So… it’s just a cave, then?”

Odin’s eye twitched, his gaze shifting from the projection of the cave to you with a sharp, piercing look. His brow furrowed ever so slightly as if trying to decide whether to address the disrespect or simply let it pass. He chose the former. “It is not ‘just a cave,’ mortal,” he said, his voice low but carrying the weight of centuries. The side-eye he gave you was cold and unimpressed. “The Hollow of Trials is a place of great significance. It tests those who enter in ways you cannot yet comprehend.”

You met his gaze without flinching, but there was no hiding the slight grin tugging at your lips. You leaned toward Loki and whispered, just loud enough for him to hear, “Guess it’s not just a cave then.”

Loki’s lips twitched into a brief smile before he straightened, looking back to Odin. “It is a place of trials, yes. Much more than a mere cave.” His voice was smooth, but there was a slight edge to it, the kind that came from having spent too many years around Odin’s more… imposing presence.

Odin’s side-eye lingered for a moment longer before he gave a barely perceptible shake of his head. “You will see for yourself soon enough. But remember this, Midgardian,” he added with quiet authority, “you are on sacred ground. Show it the respect it demands.”

You gave him a nod, not entirely convinced, but fully aware that disrespecting him further would probably not end well. “Got it. Big, serious cave.”

Heimdall stepped forward, eyeing you now with a hint of disapproval, though he didn’t speak. Odin’s gaze shifted to Loki then, seemingly dismissing you for the moment, though the weight of his earlier words still hung heavy in the air.

Frigga, who had remained silently observing the exchange, finally spoke, her voice light but with an undercurrent of motherly warmth. “You are brave to face this trial,” she said, her gaze flicking over you with a faint smile. “The cave will bring out what you least expect, but it will also show you the truth of yourself. Be prepared for what you may learn.”

You weren’t sure if you should be reassured by Frigga’s words or if they were meant to prepare you for something worse. You gave a tight smile. “I’ll keep that in mind, Your Majesty.”

Frigga’s smile deepened at the respectful tone. “Good. Trust in the process. And remember, you are not alone in this, no matter how it feels in the moment.”

Before you could respond, Loki stepped forward, his usual swagger replaced with a more persuasive tone. “And while [Y/N] faces these trials, surely it would be wise for me to accompany her. As her guide, I could—”

Odin’s piercing gaze snapped to Loki, his expression unreadable, but the tension in the room thickened. “You will do no such thing.”

Loki’s smile faltered for just a moment. “But father, surely my presence would be—”

“No,” Odin interjected, his voice cutting through Loki’s words like a sharp blade. “This trial is hers alone to face. You will remain here, where you are needed.”

Loki hesitated, pressing his lips together as if weighing his words. There was an unmistakable flicker of reluctance in his eyes, one that wasn’t lost on either of his parents. Frigga’s brow furrowed slightly, and she exchanged a rapid glance with Odin before turning her attention back to Loki.

“You seem... unusually determined to accompany her, Loki,” Frigga remarked, her tone soft but laced with concern. “Is there a reason you are so reluctant to let her face this alone?”

Loki’s smirk faded, his posture stiffening. He quickly recovered, though, leaning into his usual charm. “I’m simply looking out for her well-being,” he said smoothly, though the edge in his voice suggested there was more beneath the surface. “Surely you both can see that this trial will be taxing on her. It’s only natural for me to ensure she isn’t harmed.”

Odin’s eyes narrowed, suspicion clouding his expression. “And you think you are the best one to protect her in this trial? You, who has only recently earned back our trust?”

Loki didn’t flinch at the accusation, but there was an almost imperceptible twitch in his jaw. “I am capable of more than you know, Father. You needn’t worry about me.”

Frigga studied him with a piercing gaze, her motherly instincts keen. “Loki,” she said gently, “it’s not the protection of [Y/N] we question. It’s your reasons for wanting to accompany her. You’ve never been one to shy away from danger or intrigue. What is it that you fear in her doing this alone?”

Loki’s eyes flickered toward you, his voice lowering. “It’s not fear. It’s caution.” He looked back at Odin and Frigga, his expression a little more guarded now. “This is a unique situation. One I believe requires a guiding hand.”

Odin’s piercing gaze remained fixed on him, his silence speaking volumes. There was no anger in the god’s eyes, only a quiet understanding that Loki’s behavior was anything but ordinary. Frigga placed a hand gently on Odin’s arm, but her eyes never left her son.

“You are not to accompany her,” Odin finally decreed, his voice firm. “The Hollow of Trials requires solitude, and it is not your place to interfere.”

Loki’s face remained neutral, but his eyes darkened with unspoken emotions. “As you wish,” he said flatly, stepping back. “But I’ll be close, Father. You know where to find me if you need anything... or if the trial proves too much for her.”

Odin and Frigga exchanged another look, their suspicion deepening as they watched Loki’s retreat. Frigga’s voice softened, though, as she turned back to you.

“Do not mind him,” she said, her tone comforting. “Loki’s path is… complicated, but his concern for you is genuine, in his own way.”

You nodded, feeling a mixture of sympathy and wariness toward the prince. Loki had certainly been a puzzle to you so far, but right now, you had more pressing matters at hand.

“Well, I guess I’m off to this ‘Hollow of Trials,’ then,” you said, a nervous smile creeping onto your face. “Hopefully I can avoid turning into a snack for whatever’s in there.”

⠀⠀

As you stepped into the lavish room, Frigga followed close behind, her presence both comforting and commanding. The regal chambers felt foreign to you, the walls lined with intricate tapestries depicting ancient battles and victories. It was strange to be in a place so full of history, knowing you were now a part of it, however briefly.

Frigga smiled gently, her warmth radiating in the cold, cavernous room. “You must be feeling overwhelmed,” she said softly, watching you as you looked around.

You gave a weak smile, your hands still nervously twitching. “You could say that. I never expected any of this. One moment I’m just a regular exchange student on a school trip to Sweden, and the next I am here, about to enter a sacred cave... and probably face some weird, magical thing."

Frigga’s eyes softened, her smile never faltering. "This is a lot to take in, but you are stronger than you realize. It is an honor to be here, and this trial will help you find out what you're truly capable of."

You glanced at Frigga, then down at yourself. You were still dressed in the simple clothes you had worn for the journey, and though they were practical, they wouldn’t do for such an occasion. "So... what exactly am I supposed to wear? Not that I’ve had much time to go shopping for sacred cave attire."

Frigga chuckled, the sound rich and full of warmth. "Fear not, I will take care of that." She moved toward a large wardrobe at the far side of the room, filled with gowns and outfits woven from fine silks and materials that shimmered like the night sky. "These aren’t the usual gowns of Asgard," Frigga explained, "but they are practical for such a trial."

She motioned for you to sit as she began pulling out garments, her eyes assessing the materials with a practiced hand. "I know it may seem strange, this idea of dressing up for a trial, but appearances can be important in Asgard. There is honor in how we present ourselves, even in the most difficult of moments."

You chuckled, tilting your head slightly. "Seems a bit... extra, don’t you think? For a cave trial?"

Frigga smiled knowingly. "Perhaps," she said softly, as she began to unfold a simple yet elegant outfit made of light fabric. "But this trial will reveal your inner strength. You must present yourself as you truly are—strong, capable, and unafraid of the challenges ahead."

Frigga laid out the attire, a soft, flowing robe of pure white that shimmered faintly under the dim light of the room. The fabric was delicate, like the finest silk, but not overly elaborate—its simplicity lent it an understated elegance that would suit your unassuming nature. The robe draped down from the shoulders in soft folds, the design was minimal but graceful, with no heavy embellishments to distract from its quiet beauty. The sleeves were long and fluid, cinched at the wrist with a thin silver band, and the hem barely brushed the floor, giving the robe an ethereal quality, like a soft cloud in a moonlit sky.

Around the waist was a subtle, golden-threaded sash that tied loosely, giving the robe shape without constricting it. It didn’t cling to your figure, but the soft weight of the fabric promised to mold your body in a way that would emphasize the graceful movement of your form. There was nothing ostentatious about it, yet the robe exuded a regal aura—its simplicity accentuated by its luxurious fabric.

It was clear that Frigga had chosen this robe not just for its beauty, but for its practicality. The lightness of the fabric made it seem almost weightless, yet its soft sheen caught the light in a way that would make it appear even more beautiful when wet, the material clinging gently to the skin, tracing every curve in a way that was both delicate and stunning.

She held up the clothes and turned back to you, who was still seated, unsure of how to approach the situation. "I know this is unfamiliar," Frigga continued, her voice warm and soothing. "But let me help you, child. You don’t have to face this alone. Not truly."

As you began to change behind a nearby screen, you felt an unusual sense of comfort in Frigga's words. Despite the regal atmosphere, the queen’s presence was grounded, maternal even. It was hard not to feel a little at ease.

Frigga, seemingly reading the mood, smiled faintly. "You have a strength about you, dearest. Something I see, even in the way you carry yourself, the way you’ve managed to survive what you’ve been through. You may think you’re just a mortal, but I sense something different in you."

You peeked out from behind the screen, raising an eyebrow. "Oh? What, you mean I’m some kind of hero-in-the-making?"

Frigga’s eyes glinted with wisdom, a knowing smile on her lips. "Not exactly a hero. But there’s more to you than meets the eye. The bond between you and the artifact... It’s no coincidence. There’s something in your soul that the artifact recognized. Something ancient and powerful." She hesitated for a moment before speaking again, almost as if she were considering the weight of her words. "And something that might be more connected to Asgard than you realize."

You tugged the tunic over your head and emerged from behind the screen, feeling more yourself in the simple yet elegant clothes. "Connected to Asgard? You mean the whole ‘grand destiny’ speech? Because I’m still waiting for the part where I get my cape and superpowers."

Frigga’s smile softened. "Not quite that. But there’s a connection in you, something unseen. My gift of sight allows me to see beyond the surface—into the hearts and souls of others. And I’ve seen it in you."

You paused, looking at Frigga in surprise. "Wait, you’re telling me you can see... beyond your eyes? Like, the future? Or some deep, dark secret about my life?"

Frigga chuckled gently, her gaze never leaving yours. "No, nothing like that. But I can see the essence of who someone truly is. And you... you have strength that even you don’t fully understand yet. It’s as though you’ve always been destined to walk a path that will lead you here, to this moment. You may not see it yet, but I do."

You were quiet for a moment, letting the weight of Frigga’s words settle in. "I guess I never really thought of it that way," you murmured. "I’m just a regular-sized human being from Earth—or, Midgard as you say. Never thought I'd be standing here, in the middle of a royal family’s palace, about to face some huge trial... and all because of a shiny rock I picked up on vacation."

Frigga smiled warmly, her eyes full of understanding. "You may not see it now, but perhaps the journey you are on will help you understand your place in this world—here, with us, with the Asgardians. And in time, you’ll understand why the artifact chose you. Everything happens for a reason, my dear. Even if that reason is something you can't yet comprehend."

There was a long silence as Frigga finished adjusting your outfit, and then stepped back to admire her work while you studied yourself in the mirror, noting how the robe cascaded around you with almost divine grace. The robe felt both foreign and natural on your body. The cool fabric against your skin gave you a sense of being part of something larger—something ancient. It was as if you were wearing a garment that had been crafted not for you, but for a version of yourself you hadn’t yet discovered.

Frigga’s eyes softened as she gazed at you. “It suits you,” she said gently. “Simple, yet powerful. A reflection of your true strength.”

You smiled faintly. "Strength, huh? I might need a lot of that. Mentally, especially."

Frigga laughed softly, a sound full of affection. "Yes, perhaps you will. But you are capable, and you will face this trial with courage. Trust in yourself."

You gave a hesitant nod, feeling a mix of nerves and determination wash over you. "Thank you, Your Majesty. For everything."

Frigga placed a hand on your shoulder, her grip firm but kind. "It is my duty, child. Know that you are not alone, no matter what happens in that cave."

As you turned to leave, the queen's voice stopped you for a moment. "Remember, this trial is not just about strength. It’s about finding who you truly are."

You gave her a small smile. "I’ll keep that in mind." With one last glance at Frigga, you walked toward the door, ready to face whatever awaited you in the Hollow of Trials.

Frigga led you through the palace, her presence calm and steady despite the looming uncertainty of what was to come. The tension from earlier still hung in the air, but Frigga’s quiet confidence was a grounding force.

“You’ll need to remain calm,” She said, her voice soft but firm as you walked down the stone corridors toward the cave. “The sacred cave will reveal to you the truth of the artifact, but it will test you. Tests are not always kind, but they are necessary.”

You nodded, trying to steady your breath. You hadn’t expected it to feel this real, this heavy, despite the absence of a clear threat. It was as though the cave itself was waiting for you, and you weren’t sure you were ready to meet whatever it held.

“The trials within will challenge your mind, your body, and your spirit. But most importantly, it will reveal the bond between you and the artifact, and the deeper purpose it holds for you. To the land of Asgard, to the ancient power that lies beneath,” Frigga continued, her gaze distant for a moment. “The scales of Níðhöggr are not just a relic of old, they are a key to understanding the future. You must enter the cave, and what you see may shock you, but you mustn’t lose yourself in it.”

The more Frigga spoke, the more you felt the weight of the task before you. “What exactly will happen when I enter?” you asked, your curiosity mixed with an edge of nervousness.

“You will be shown what lies dormant within you,” Frigga explained, “The cave is connected to the heart of Yggdrasil itself, and it will guide you through what you need to see. Focus. Don’t let fear take hold.”

You reached the entrance to the cave—a massive opening, shrouded in mist. The walls seemed to breathe, pulsating softly, almost as if welcoming you into their depths.

You swallowed hard. “I’m ready.” You weren’t sure if that was true, but the words felt like something you needed to say.

⠀⠀

They arrived at the entrance to the cave—an imposing archway shrouded in mist and darkened stone. The air felt thicker here, charged with an almost tangible energy that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Frigga paused, giving you a steady, reassuring glance before stepping back to lean against the stone just outside the entrance.

“You must enter alone,” Frigga said, her voice gentle but firm. “You will know when the time comes to act. Trust yourself, and remember what I’ve told you.”

You gave a nod, a mix of apprehension and determination in your heart. You stepped forward, crossing the threshold of the cave. As your foot touched the cool stone floor, a slight chill seemed to seep into your bones. You shivered but didn’t stop.

The inside was dim, shadows stretching from the walls as if the cave itself had a life of its own. The faint glow from the artifact around your neck illuminated the path before you, casting eerie reflections against the wet stone. You continued to move deeper into the cave, the silence pressing in on you like a weight.

As you ventured deeper, you could feel the air grow colder, and you felt the pulse of the artifact beneath your skin. The longer you walked, the stronger the pull—it was as if it was calling you, urging you toward something deep within the cave.

A sudden voice broke the stillness, echoing off the walls.

“Are you really planning to do this alone, little mortal?”

You spun around, startled. Before you could even process who—or what—it was, your instincts kicked in. A sudden rush of panic and irritation propelled your fist forward, swinging at the mysterious figure standing in the shadows.

But just as your punch came within inches of its target, you froze, your eyes going wide.

Loki stepped forward into the faint light, a sly smile curling at his lips, completely unfazed. The blow had missed him by mere inches, and he watched with amusement as you lowered your fist in realization.

“Loki?” you asked, voice tinged with irritation. “What are you doing here? I thought your mother said I had to do this on my own.”

Loki didn’t skip a beat. “Oh, she did, didn’t she? But I thought I’d just... make sure you’re not getting yourself into trouble. After all, we wouldn’t want you to get lost in here or something of the sorts.”

You blinked, still trying to steady your breath. “You’re not subtle.”

Loki’s grin widened, clearly unbothered. "I already told you, subtlety is overrated."

Suddenly, you felt a surge of irritation—at yourself, for being startled so easily—and without thinking, you swung out with a fist, aiming straight for him.

You didn’t even land a punch.

Loki’s grin only grew as he effortlessly dodged the swing, leaning to the side with the fluid grace of someone who had seen this kind of thing before. "Is that your idea of defending yourself, mortal?" he teased, standing completely still as your fist missed by inches.

You froze for a moment, eyes wide with embarrassment. "I wasn’t... I was just—"

"—Trying to punch me? Well, I suppose it was a valiant effort," Loki said, unruffled, his expression mocking yet somehow fond. "But you’ll have to do better than that if you want to hit me."

You scowled, rubbing the back of your neck. "Yeah, yeah. I’ll keep that in mind, thanks."

Loki chuckled softly at your annoyance. "You’ll need a lot more than a surprise swing to face what’s ahead, mortal. But don’t worry—I'll be here to help," he added, his voice turning more serious, though there was still that underlying amusement in his tone.

You scowled, feeling your blood rise to your cheeks. “Great. First, I punch a god, now I’m being scolded and tailed by one.”

Loki smirked, clearly entertained by your flustered reaction. “And here I thought I was the deranged one.”

You crossed your arms, doing your best to hide your embarrassment. “Well, you are.”

“Only on special occasions.” Loki chuckled, his grin widening. “Now, let’s get on with this, shall we? I’ll stay close in case you need me... even if you insist on attempting to hit me again.”

“Oh trust me, I’d love to make you my personal punching ball. But you’re not supposed to be here, Your Highness,” you said, your voice firmer this time. “This is my trial, not yours.”

Loki’s smile faltered just slightly, but he quickly recovered, his eyes glinting with a mixture of mischief and something else. “Oh, don’t be like that. I’m not here to interfere. Just think of me as an... observer. I’m actually quite good at observing, you know.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Fine, but you stay out of my way, Peeping Tom. I’m not in the mood for your tricks.”

Loki’s eyes sparkled with amusement as he stepped closer, seemingly unbothered by your resistance. “I’m just making sure you’re safe. Who else could keep you company on this grand adventure? Your noble Asgardian family? Heimdall is too busy watching the horizon, and moth—Frigga, well, she’s always so proper.” He gave a dramatic roll of his eyes. “You’re stuck with me.”

You didn’t know whether to be frustrated or amused, but you felt a little of the tension in your chest ease up. “Fine. But if you do anything to make this harder than it already is, I swear I’ll—”

“—you’ll what? Throw me out of here?” Loki interrupted with a soft chuckle. “You can try, but I’m rather skilled at slipping past... inconveniences.”

Just then, they heard Frigga’s voice echo from outside the cave, calling out in a tone that barely masked her amusement. “Loki, if you’re going to follow her, at least try to make yourself discreet.”

Loki’s grin widened as he turned to you. “See? Like I told you, not subtle at all.”

You huffed but followed, rolling your eyes as you muttered under your breath, "I’d rather be doing this on my own."

Loki’s soft laugh echoed around you. "Oh, I’m sure you would, but where’s the fun in that?"

You gave him a pointed look before stepping deeper into the cave, determined not to let his presence distract you. The further you ventured, the more the air seemed to hum with energy, the walls of the cave narrowing around you as if closing in, but you kept your focus.

Loki followed closely behind, his presence bringing a mix of annoyance and reluctant comfort.

“I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do here,” you said after a moment, your voice a little softer.

Loki raised an eyebrow, the humor in his voice fading for just a moment. “You’ll know. Trust me. The artifact has a way of showing you what you need to see.” He paused, then added, “And if you don’t, well, I’ll be here to make sure you don’t do anything... rash.”

You sighed, your eyes scanning the dark cave around them. Whatever was about to happen, you were ready—or at least, you hoped you were.

The further you ventured into the cave, the more surreal it became. The air grew cooler, and the light seemed to dim as you descended deeper into the cavern. Soon, you emerged into an expansive, otherworldly space. The chamber stretched high above you, the walls lined with shimmering minerals that cast faint glows, giving the place a mystical feel.

At the center of the cavern was a clear, glowing pool of water, rippling ever so slightly as if something ancient and powerful stirred beneath its surface. The water shimmered with an eerie blue light, reflecting the faint beams of light that filtered through cracks in the ceiling. The surroundings were so calm, so peaceful—it almost seemed too good to be true.

“This is it?” you asked, taking in the sight. You felt a mixture of awe and apprehension.

Loki, who had been walking in silence beside you, stopped a few steps ahead, eyeing the pool with a thoughtful expression. “Yes. The pool of trial,” he said, though his voice was laced with a touch of amusement. “Step into the water. It will reveal what you need to face.”

You froze, your heart sinking as you stared at the pool. “Wait, step in? That?” You gestured toward the glowing water, the nervous energy creeping up your spine. “What if it’s, I don’t know, scalding? What if it burns me?” You glanced at him with wide eyes. “I’m not exactly in the mood to be turned into a crispy bacon today, thank you very much.”

Loki raised an eyebrow, clearly entertained by your concerns. “You’re overthinking this,” he said, his voice laced with mild amusement. “It’s not as dangerous as it looks.”

Your anxiety didn’t seem to ease. You slowly stepped toward the water, your eyes scanning the surface for any signs of heat or danger. “You’re sure it won’t burn me? Because I’m really not equipped for magical burns.”

Loki watched you, fighting back a grin. “You’ll be fine. It’s not as dramatic as you're imagining.”

Still, you hesitated, your heart racing. Your mind ran wild with all the possibilities—maybe it wasn’t just water. Maybe it was some sort of curse in disguise. Maybe it was boiling acid that would eat through your skin. Or worse, maybe it was a test to see how long you could stand the pain before... You shivered at the thought.

As you took a tentative step forward, Loki raised an eyebrow. “What’s the matter? Scared of a little water?”

You shot him a glare. “I’m not scared. I’m just being cautious. There’s a difference.”

Loki rolled his eyes dramatically. “Oh, please.” Before you could respond, before you even had the chance to think it through, he took a sudden step forward and with a swift motion shoved you into the pool, sending you stumbling into the water.

“Loki!” you yelped, flailing in surprise, your feet slipping beneath you as the cool water splashed around you. The shock of the sudden fall took the breath out of you as you splashed into the pool, sputtering as you broke the surface.

Loki stood at the edge, watching you with a satisfied grin, arms crossed. “You were taking too long,” he said, unfazed by your glare. “Besides, you were overthinking it.”

You glared at him, brushing your wet hair out of your face. “I wasn’t overthinking! You just pushed me in without warning!”

“Really now,” Loki drawled, his smirk widening as he noticed your flustered expression. “Do you honestly expect me to believe you would have acted on your own? Consider it a favor—one I’m sure you’ll thank me for later.”

You were drenched now, water dripping down your clothes, but you couldn’t help but feel a bit of a sting in your chest at the sudden, unexpected splash. “I was thinking about it... slowly.”

Loki chuckled, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “No time for slow thinking. Now, let’s see what happens next, shall we?”

⠀⠀

As you mourned your state, the cold rippled across your skin, but it wasn’t the chill that caught your attention. The water around you began to shimmer, glowing brighter with every passing second. The air itself seemed to hum, pulsing with an energy you couldn’t quite comprehend. Slowly, an aura of light began to envelop you—faint at first, but growing steadily stronger. Your body began to glow, not with harsh light, but with an ethereal radiance, as though the northern lights had taken form within you. Soft, shifting hues—pink, green, blue, and violet, colors reminiscent of the Bifrost—wove through your skin, with a faint touch of gold cascading across your form like the flowing branches of a great tree, stretching to every inch of your being.

The glow, fluid and seamless, surrounded you in ribbons of light, as if you were the very embodiment of the auroras themselves. For a fleeting moment, it was as though you were no longer entirely tangible. Your edges blurred, your form rippling like water, the colors of the aurora intertwining with the essence of your very being. You seemed weightless, suspended between realms, as though the cave had absorbed you into its ancient roots, your presence melding with the very magic of the place.

Your glow was hypnotic, a thing of beauty and power. You seemed both present and absent, solid and ethereal, bathed in the light of a thousand unseen stars. The colors shifted and swirled, weaving through you, a dream only half-remembered, a story half-told. The entire cavern seemed to hold its breath, caught in the magic radiating from you.

Loki barely noticed the way his breath caught in his chest. “By the Norns,” he muttered under his breath.

For the first time in a long time, Loki felt small.

His gaze was locked on you, entranced. He had seen many forms of magic before, but nothing like this. It was as if you were a bridge, a living conduit for powers older than time itself. The air around you thickened, vibrating with an ancient force that seemed to pulse in time with your heartbeat. It was a weighty energy, something primordial, something far beyond the grasp of any ordinary god.

There was something more, something familiar, yet elusive. A pull, deep within him, that resonated with the core of his being. For a moment, he almost felt as though he were standing before something divine, something ancient beyond measure. The glow around you flickered briefly, revealing an intricate symbol—tree-like, its roots sprawling across your form like a reflection of your nervous system. It was so subtle, so fleeting, that Loki almost questioned if it had been real. A vision? A trick of the light? But the connection, the sensation, was undeniable. You were tied to something vast, something far older than anything he had ever encountered.

Then, as the colors of the aurora deepened, he could have sworn he saw it—the roots of Yggdrasil, stretching across the cavern, whispering through the light, intertwining with your very essence. The vision was brief, but the connection between you and the great tree was unmistakable. You were no longer merely a mortal. You were something far more. Something much greater.

Loki snapped out of his trance, shaking himself from the dizzying pull of your presence. His thoughts needed to settle, but the image of you, radiant and unknowable, had left an indelible mark on his mind. You weren’t just a mortal anymore. You were tied to something far greater than any of them. Something even he couldn’t comprehend.

But then, there was a shift.

The air in the cavern crackled with magic, and for a moment, Loki could only watch, intrigued, as you glowed with an otherworldly light. Your body shimmered like the northern lights, colors shifting in mesmerizing waves, casting ethereal reflections across the water. He couldn’t deny the effect it had on him—your beauty was undeniable, but it was the strange, potent magic swirling within you that truly captured his attention.

A subtle distortion rippled across your body as the pendant around your neck began to pulse, glowing with an intensity that made the air around them feel charged. Loki narrowed his eyes, sensing something was about to happen. This wasn’t just a glowing display of power—it was something deeper.

The pendant’s magic stirred, and from the center of your chest, a shadowy, serpent-like form emerged. It moved sluggishly at first, as though testing the air, then, with an unnerving speed, it coiled outward, slipping from the pendant like a living nightmare. Loki’s eyes flashed with surprise as the serpent’s body unfolded, scales shimmering with a dark iridescence, its glowing eyes narrowing as it circled the room ominously. It didn’t seem like a natural creature; more like a manifestation of some ancient magic.

“Well, isn’t this a surprise,” Loki mused, his tone light but edged with intrigue. He watched the serpent glide through the air, its tail cracking against the cave walls with a hiss that seemed to rattle the very stone. “Should I be worried?”

He wasn’t exactly concerned—it was just another magical oddity—but there was something about the way it moved that made his curiosity flare. He had seen many strange things in his long life, but this? This was unlike anything he’d encountered before.

He looked to you for a reaction, but your gaze was locked on the serpent, your expression a mixture of awe and hesitation.

For a moment, the serpent paused, hovering directly above you, its eyes fixated on your face. It was as if it was waiting for something—waiting for you. The air grew thicker, charged with a tension that Loki could almost taste. Then, without warning, the serpent lunged, its massive body streaking toward you like a bolt of lightning.

Loki’s eyes widened, his reflexes kicking in as he moved forward, his hand outstretched, ready to intercept. But before he could act, the serpent vanished into your body, slipping right through you with eerie ease. The force of its intrusion jolted you, and you were thrown backward, crashing into the water with a splash that sent ripples across the surface.

Loki stood at the edge of the pool, momentarily stunned. His pulse quickened as he peered into the water, watching you disappear beneath the surface. For a split second, he wondered if he'd misjudged the situation—if he had waited too long to intervene.

The seconds stretched on like an eternity before, finally, you resurfaced.

Your appearance was… quite different from before. The faint glow that had enveloped your body earlier remained faintly, but now it clung to you like a second skin, subtle and ethereal. Your hair, damp and flowing around you, cascaded in waves down your back, each strand catching the light in a way that made you look almost unreal—like a siren from the depths of myth. Your robe, soaked through, clung to your form in a way that left little to the imagination and left the god breathless, and the water that trickled down your skin only seemed to enhance the otherworldly glow that surrounded you.

Your eyes met his, their usual sharpness now softened by the strange, lingering magic that swirled through you. There was a quiet moment between them, one that felt far too heavy for the situation at hand. Loki’s gaze lingered on you—on the way the water clung to your skin, tracing every line of your form, on the way your wet hair shimmered in the dim light.

For the first time, he felt something stir within him that wasn’t just idle curiosity or his usual inclination to tease. His eyes flickered downward, and a rush of warmth settled in his chest as the realization hit him like a force of nature.

You were stunning. No—more than that. You were... captivating.

It was the kind of attraction that came suddenly, like the snap of a string. He didn’t want to admit it, especially not to himself, but there it was. The light clinging to your skin, the way your body moved through the water, the delicate way your robe shifted, revealing more than it concealed—it was impossible to ignore.

Loki swallowed, his pulse quickening before he could rein in his thoughts. Focus, he told himself, but it was harder than usual.

His mind raced as he forced a casual smirk on his face, his usual playful tone returning. “That was... certainly a display. You might want to be careful about who—or what—you attract next time.” His gaze flicked over you, lingering just a second longer than he intended, before he shifted back to his usual playful teasing.

He wasn’t sure if he was still speaking about the magic or the effect you had on him. Maybe both.

You stared at him, your expression unreadable, still trying to compose yourself, but the moment of vulnerability—the way your eyes still held that same faint, ethereal glow—stuck with him. It was difficult to keep his mind from drifting back to the image of you, glowing like some otherworldly being.

Loki scoffed softly to himself, shaking off the sudden jolt of desire that had swept through him. He was Loki, after all. He was in control. But as he turned away, he couldn’t deny that something had shifted in his perception of you. Whatever power you had, whatever strange magic clung to you, it was only amplifying the attraction he hadn’t quite wanted to acknowledge.

It was a dangerous thought, one he didn’t dare explore too deeply just yet.

Your voice, though still shaken from the strange encounter, snapped him from his thoughts. “What just happened?”

Loki stepped closer, his gaze sharp and laced with amusement as he took in your glowing form. “Well, it appears you’ve made quite the impression,” he remarked, his tone light but tinged with intrigue. “I’d say I’m almost envious. Whatever that... entity was, it seems you’ve caught its attention—and perhaps more. Care to explain, or shall I start guessing?”

He crossed his arms, his mind already working through the possibilities, analyzing every detail. His gaze lingered on you a little longer than he intended, noting how the glow still radiated from your skin, subtle but undeniable.

You shook your head, trying to regain some semblance of control. “That’s not exactly comforting, you know.”

“Not my problem,” Loki quipped, his lips curling into a teasing smirk. “But I will admit, it’s an interesting little magic show you’ve got going on. I’m curious what comes next.”

Your eyes flickered with frustration, but you took a breath, regaining your composure as best you could. “I don’t know how many times I’m going to say it, but it seems it’s never enough: I didn’t sign up for this.”

Loki shrugged, his smirk curling wider. “Oh, I’d say you did more than that. At the very least, you provided some amusement.” He crouched near the edge of the pool, his gaze locking with yours, a mischievous glint dancing in his eyes. “But I suppose you’ve earned a passing grade. It appears you’ve won its favor—or at least its tolerance.”

There was no immediate danger—just a strange, powerful magic coursing through you—but Loki’s mind spun with questions. And if he was being honest, there was something about you now, something different that made you undeniably more intriguing than before. He wasn't sure if it was the magic or your new... presence, but he couldn’t look away.

You wiped a droplet of water from your chin, your eyes still narrowed, irritation bubbling beneath the surface. You didn’t appreciate being mocked, especially when you'd already gone through whatever strange ordeal had just occurred. But Loki, of course, couldn’t resist taunting you.

"Yeah, real funny, Loki," you replied, rolling your eyes. "I’m sure you're quite entertained by this, aren’t you?"

His grin widened, the gleam of mischief in his eyes unmistakable. "I’m simply admiring the show," he teased. "You know I’m an amateur of the fine arts. I barely get to witness such dramatic performances these days."

You stood there in the water, trying to reign in your frustration, a slow smile tugging at the corners of your lips. He was so confident—so smug—like he didn’t have a care in the world. You had a feeling he wasn’t quite expecting what was coming next.

"You do love a show, don’t you, Loki?" you said sweetly as you stepped closer to the edge of the pool, your posture shifting in a way that was almost predatory.

Loki, caught off guard by the tone of your voice, tilted his head, arching an eyebrow. He didn’t respond immediately, his gaze flicking over you with the same playful smirk. There was something about the way you moved—too graceful, too calculated—that gave him a sense of unease, but he couldn’t quite place why. His curiosity only deepened. You were as unpredictable as always, and that made you endlessly fascinating.

You braced yourself on the edge, pushing yourself up with a fluid motion, lifting your body out of the water slightly. Your eyes met his, and you leaned forward just enough for your faces to be mere inches apart. The air between you was charged, and you couldn't resist the chance to tease him back.

"You should really try it for yourself. It’s quite refreshing, being all… dripping wet," you murmured, your voice low and sultry, your lips barely brushing his as you spoke.

You tilted your head just slightly, allowing the water droplets on your skin to catch the light as you took another step closer. Your robe, still clinging to your form, glistened with water, and the ethereal glow clung to your skin like a second layer. Your eyes glinted with something so peculiar, and the slightest smile curved your lips. The air between you shifted, charged with tension, and Loki’s smirk faltered for a brief moment as you leaned forward just enough to invade his personal space.

"Hmm, I think you have," you teased, your voice low and enticing, drawing him in closer. You raised yourself a little higher, leaning just that bit more, your lips almost too close to his. "Maybe you even like it. Maybe you like watching me struggle helplessly..."

For a moment, Loki forgot the situation entirely. His gaze drifted downward to your lips, and he barely noticed the slight shift in your posture. You were so close now that his heartbeat was racing, his body nearly responding before his mind had a chance to react. It was that subtle, but enough to get Loki utterly captivated. She had ensnared him with a soft look, a playful gesture, and it was all too easy to get lost in your presence.

He wasn’t sure what was happening, but you were so close now—close enough that he could feel the warmth of your breath, your scent all around him. Your lips were mere inches from his, and for a fleeting moment, he wondered if you were actually going to kiss him. Without thinking, his gaze flicked up to meet yours, and your eyes sparkled with a knowing gleam, as if you’d caught him.  You could see the effect you were having on him—how his usual sharp gaze had softened, how the mischievous glint in his eyes had been replaced with something distracted, almost dazed.

"And maybe you don’t mind being part of it every now and then."

Loki's eyes widened as he snapped out of his trance, a sensation of weightlessness overtaking him in a split second. "Wait, what—"

Without warning, you grabbed him by the arm, your grip surprisingly firm, and yanked him toward you. With a sudden, swift motion, you pulled him into the pool with you, his startled yelp cutting through the air as the water splashed around them. He stumbled in the wetness, head first.

“How’s the water temperature?” You now sat perched on the edge of the pool, smirking, the faint glow still clinging to your skin like a siren’s call. You casually flicked a few damp strands of hair from your face, your eyes twinkling with amusement.

Loki gasped and blinked, dripping water from his hair as he pushed himself up from the surface, wide-eyed and dripping wet. "You—" he sputtered, glaring at you in disbelief. "You tricked me!"

You tilted your head to the side, your smile widening. "Oh, I think you let yourself get tricked," you teased. "You were too busy being entertained to notice what was going on right in front of you. I must say, I now understand your point; truly a sight for sore eyes."

He shot you a glare, but the heat that had flooded his chest earlier was still there—this time, it wasn’t just irritation. His pride had taken a hit, but there was something else too. A burning sentiment that he desperately tried to repress now more than ever, should he let his impulses rise and take over to provoke something regrettable.

"You’re lucky I’m feeling generous," he muttered under his breath, but his gaze lingered on you just a moment too long.

You chuckled, your eyes dark with amusement. "Maybe you should pay attention next time," you said casually, your voice dripping with mock sweetness. "You can’t keep mocking me and not expect a little retaliation. But for now, I’d say that’s a win for me, don’t you think?"

He didn’t respond right away, his mind already racing with plans for payback. But as he stood up in the water, still dripping wet and irritated, he couldn't deny the stirrings of something else—something that was entirely more complicated than just his usual urge to tease you back. The whole encounter had left him... flustered, unsettled, and, if he was being honest, curious in a way he hadn’t expected.

As he clambered out of the pool, water dripping from his clothes, he realized that this little game between them was far from over. And next time, he was going to make sure you regretted it.

"Enjoy it while you can," Loki muttered darkly, locking his murderous gaze onto yours.

You simply grinned, your eyes sparkling with that same mischievous light that had drawn him in from the start. "Oh, I sure do."

Loki, still dripping wet and clearly irritated by the prank, stood tall, his posture rigid with the lingering desire to regain control. But instead of moving to challenge you, he took a moment, eyes narrowing, scanning you with an almost predatory intensity.

He stepped closer, slow and deliberate, no longer the teasing trickster but something sharper—darker. “Your boldness is gonna lead to your imminent downfall,” His voice was low, but the air around them crackled with energy, his irritation mixing with something else.

Your grin faltered for just a moment as you met his gaze, unsure of what to make of his sudden change in demeanor. “Oh come on, I’m just having a bit of fun,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady.

Loki’s lips twitched upwards, but it wasn’t a smile. More like a challenge. “You’re playing a dangerous game, and I’m starting to wonder if you even know the rules.”

You tilted your head, taking in his shift. He was still teasing, but there was a hint of something else in his eyes—a sort of curiosity, an intrigue he was trying to hide behind his usual bravado. And perhaps, for the first time, you were sensing a crack in his usually confident demeanor.

As you stepped back, just a little, you could feel the weight of the moment, the tension in the space between you. Your earlier confidence began to waver as you picked up on the way he was looking at you, no longer merely amused but almost calculating.

"I’m not afraid of games," you said, your voice a little quieter now, with a faint edge to it.

Loki watched you for a long moment before he spoke again, his tone uncharacteristically serious. “You should be.”

Before you could react, he turned sharply, as if ending the conversation, and started to walk away, leaving you to wonder if that’s really the end of their playful rivalry—or if it was something else entirely, lurking behind a charade of endless banters. 

⠀⠀

As the last echo of their footsteps in the cave's entrance faded behind them, Loki and you stepped into the bright light outside. The sun bathed the landscape in soft golden hues, a stark contrast to the strange, eerie atmosphere they'd just left behind. But both of you were still drenched, Loki’s clothes dripping with water and your posture slightly stiff from the tension of the ordeal.

You’d barely exchanged a word as you emerged, the weight of your previous interaction hanging between you. Neither of you could deny that something had shifted, something unresolved that neither was eager to discuss. Loki was lost in his thoughts, glancing sideways at you with an unreadable expression.

But as you approached the clearing, standing against a large stone formation was none other than Frigga. Her presence was calming, and yet there was a knowing look in her eyes that immediately set both of you on edge.

“You’ve both made it out, I see,” Frigga said, her voice gentle but carrying an edge of authority. “I trust everything went well?”

Loki’s lips twitched into a wry smirk, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “As well as can be expected, Mother,” he replied, though his voice lacked its usual confidence. The last thing he wanted was a conversation about what conspired within the confines of the underground chamber, or how the whole ordeal had affected him.

Frigga’s eyes shifted to you, a soft smile curving her lips. “And you, my dear? How do you fare after all that?”

You slowly met her gaze, still processing the surreal events of the day. “I’m... fine. Just a bit shaken, I think,” you said with a small, tight smile, the weight of the strange magic still lingering in your bones. “It was unexpected, to say the least.”

She nodded knowingly. “Magic always has a way of testing us when we least expect it. It’s not just about strength, but about understanding oneself in the face of the unknown.” She turned back to Loki, her expression softening. “You both seem... changed. A little more different than you were when you entered.”

Loki’s eyes flicked away from her, unwilling to admit anything. He didn’t like how much she could read into his silence. “We handled it,” he muttered, but it was clear to Frigga that he was brushing aside something deeper.

Her gaze softened, but there was a flicker of something serious in her eyes. “I can see that. But you seem… distracted.”

His shoulders tensed, and he tried to evade her penetrating stare with an insistent tone. “There’s nothing to tell, Mother.”

Frigga’s gaze sharpened for a moment, and she placed a hand on Loki’s arm, holding him there.  “I can see the truth in your heart.” Her voice softened, as though speaking only for him.

His eyes flitted to you, then back to his mother. He couldn’t seem to hold her gaze for long, the truth of his feelings hanging just out of reach, even from him.

Sensing his reluctance to speak his mind, the queen decided to take a different approach. She raised her hand slightly, and with a simple wave of magic, she reached into Loki’s mind, transferring a glimpse of his own emotions to her. His confusion, his attraction, the pull that was impossible to ignore. She felt it all, a brief but powerful connection.

When she released him, Loki staggered slightly, blinking as though coming out of a trance. His gaze shifted uncomfortably. “You’re always meddling in my head.”

Frigga smiled gently, a knowing gleam in her eye. “It’s my job, my son. And sometimes, it’s necessary.”

Loki opened his mouth to protest, but halted his movement as she raised a hand. “Not now, Loki. Not yet.”

He was silent for a moment, his frustration clear. “Fine. But I’m leaving.”

She allowed him that moment, her expression a mixture of understanding and mild amusement. “Go, then. But I will be waiting for you when you’re ready to talk.”

Loki nodded curtly, shooting one last look at you before turning to leave in a hurry, no doubt eager to escape whatever thoughts his mother had stirred up within him.

Frigga turned to you with a soft smile, one that carried a quiet weight. “You’re handling this better than he is, I think.”

You chuckled softly, feeling the weight of everything you had gone through. “I’m not so sure about that,” you said. “But... it’s certainly complicated.”

She placed a hand on your shoulder as you began walking toward the throne room. “Indeed. But I have no doubt you’ll handle it well. Now, come. I believe there’s something we need to discuss regarding what happened.”

As they walked side by side, her voice rose again and took on a slightly teasing tone. “Though, I must admit, you two are quite the pair. Loki doesn’t often find himself so... ruffled. It seems you’ve caught his attention in more ways than one.”

You looked at her, surprised by the comment. “It’s not like that.”

Frigga raised an eyebrow, the corners of her mouth curling up. “Isn’t it?”

You smiled wryly, unsure of how to respond, but the playful look in Frigga’s eyes made it clear that this conversation was far from over.

And as you approached the throne room, you couldn't help but wonder just how much Frigga truly saw.

⠀⠀⠀

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[dragon-ascent]

Zhongli, the Siren

mermay special~ dark content ahead!

════════════════════════════════════════════

Siren!Zhongli whose songs are knowledge - and his reservoir of it vast. When he finds you washed ashore onto his islet, cradled by rocks and debris, he sings for you.

Siren!Zhongli whose rich, silky voice bewitches you, happily watching you lending your ears and baring your heart to this strange and handsome creature. Brown wings and scales and glimmering eyes alike, he is enthralling.

Siren!Zhongli whose talons turn into hands to gently hold you, embrace you, touch you. His soft caresses and feather-light kisses upon your skin seem to promise a world of love for you. Pure, sweet, melodious love.

Siren!Zhongli who senses your nascent wish to leave...so he places a tender kiss under your ear, wrapping you in his arms, and whispers to you to stay...stay, and listen to his musically-wrapped wisdom. Another kiss, and another song.

Siren!Zhongli whose hands - no, talons hold onto you with sentiment whenever you gaze longingly toward the horizon, murky memories of your life making themselves apparent. His lips are warm upon your neck, and...what were you longing for, just now?

Siren!Zhongli whose songs fell rescue boats that come this way, fragile wood bested by merciless stone and swallowed by the ravenous waters; watching blankly as they sink into the depths of the blue, blue sea...

Siren!Zhongli whose melodies become enriched with besotted attachment for you, his lyrics embracing you...constricting you...his every word dripping with tainted truth of his desires.

Siren!Zhongli whose crystalline tears stream down his face when he sees you waking up from his saccharine dream, tasting the bitterness masked by his golden honeyed eyes. One more song, he tells you, running his fingers down your arms gingerly. One more song and you can leave, and thus he pulls you into his sickly-sweet dream again. And again. And again.

Siren!Zhongli who keeps you around until the span of your life has withered out, and as he places one last kiss and breathes a final song into your cold lips, he watches as you, too, sink and become one with the recessed relics of the sea.

[hemoglobinjuicebox]

Ribbons of moonlight cascaded through the crystalline window panes and danced across the oaken herringbone floor. What wasn't touched by that benign white glow was a haze of shadow he dared not linger on. The candles hand long since burned out, leaving behind only the faint scent of melted wax and ashen wick. Astarion's lips curled in signature disgust—then he looked at you.

You, who stayed sound asleep under that heavy red duvet. You, who swaddled yourself so snugly in red sheets. You, who rested your head on his chest, whose soft breaths puffed over his neck and whose hands sought him out in your dreams.

You, who would have been sacrificed and slaughtered along with him, had life not intervened. Oh, he hated that thought. He hated it as deep as his hatred could reach. Such a dark inkling wasn't worthy of you.

“Shhh,” he whispered as you began to stir. He shifted carefully as not to further disturb your rest and gathered you in his arms. “I'm here, my love. I'm here.”

It amazed him how his voice alone could calm your mind. He supposed he wasn't a stranger to it—your voice had the same effect on him—but he had never expected it to be so truly reciprocated. You found comfort in… him? A year ago, he would have thought the notion absolutely ridiculous. Even in safety, it bothered him. It nagged at the back of his mind, a constant cruel reminder. But you did it. You found comfort in him. He was who you turned to first for anything. He was someone to hug, someone to laugh with, someone to make you smile, someone to complain to, someone to cry on… and someone to love.

Someone to love. Now that was a thought he liked, if a tad reluctantly based on the way his heart seemed to crunch in his chest. He still liked it, and as his hands stroked your head and soothed you back into blissful slumber, he found himself wondering about what else he liked.

Food? No, that was too basic. It was too survivalist.

Good food? Perhaps that was better.

A home-cooked meal. That sounded divine. Especially if it was made with Gale's hands (not that he would ever admit it and boost the wizard's ego. He certainly didn't need it).

He liked soft fabrics that fit him just right. He liked sharp blades decorated with shiny jewels and gold. He liked a rich, red wine in the evening with you. He liked his collection of cloaks and parasols with delicate laces that shielded him from the sun so he could take an afternoon stroll with you. He liked the smell of an old book as he curled up with you. He liked the way the autumn leaves of the trees in the park would rustle and scatter across the streets and how you would giggle as they crunched beneath your feet.

He liked life with you.

As strong a word as it was, he might have even loved life with you. You were the reason he had one again in the first place.

He leaned down, closed his eyes, and let his lips graze your temple before he laid back down on his pillow. Yours had been abandoned for months now, as you had taken up the most wonderful habit of using him as your pillow. He drew the duvet to cover you better, made sure you were properly snuggled up, then shut his eyes again. The warm darkness enveloped him once again, and he drifted back into his trance, his memories bathed in gold and only of you.

[willownwisp]

love on me

iv. you're exciting, boy come find me. (di!leon x fem reader)

author's note: yayyyyyy, fourth entry !

cw: NSFW MDNI. love hotels. p in v. oral (f receiving and m receiving).

part 4 of ree's leon valentine's advent

If he had been born under different circumstances, Leon swears he'd surely become a beach bum. Better an idle man rather than get smacked by bioweapons day in and night out, not only that, but have the top brass of good ol' U.S of A breathing down his neck constantly. Yet, he's a man who has seen things, he'd already vowed to protect whatever and whoever he can. Cold and cruel this life may be.

So he loves the warmth of the sun on him, lying down on a sun lounger sipping on dry drinks. Enjoy the view in the tropics of crystalline beaches and white sand on his feet, letting loose and relaxing himself.

Unfortunately, after the events of Alcatraz, maybe he's had enough of the sea for now. He gives himself a pat on the back, takes out a chunk of his savings to go to Japan because you've been eyeing it. You said you were interested in the food, culture, and sights.

So here he is, you in hand, his cute girlfriend clinging onto his bicep like a bunny that hopped in excitement at every interesting thing you see because you're adorable to him like that.

You were extra flirty too, Leon had chalked it up to you being over the moon because you were finally in Japan after so long of dreaming it, he's smug and pleased with himself, he likes the good boyfriend brownie points, but you had other things in mind.

"Bunny, aren't you cold?"

Leon cocked his head to the side to take a look at you, in your skirt, crop top, and cardigan combo. He's not the type of man to control women and their clothing. Come on, don't people listen to Beyonce? Girls run the world. He doesn't really know who the fuck Beyonce is but he does know Sherry listens to the song.

"Nope."

You give him a cheeky grin, shaking your head.

"Besides, you'll warm me up anyway."

You say this with a wink as you both card through the busy streets of Tokyo as Leon gives you an innocent grin, oblivious to your intent.

"Of course I would bunny. I take care of my pretty girl."

He coos, before giving you a chaste kiss on your forehead, you giggle at how he missed your innuendo before smirking.

"I wanna go somewhere."

You reply as you slide your hand to lace both your fingers together, his calloused ones enveloping your own as you all but drag him to the busy streets.

You turn him around to an alley, google maps pulled up on your free hand as you show him, what seems to be a rather flashy building illuminated by red neon lights and blinged up signs. It was like the establishment wanted to be purposefully flamboyant.

"What am I looking at bunny?"

You flash him a toothy grin, Leon knows that glint of mischief in your eyes as you reply.

"A love hotel."

Leon is floored.

"A what now? A motel? Bunny, if you were horny I'd be hauling your ass back to the hotel room right now."

He breathes out, smoke escaping from his lips as he quirks an eyebrow at you, but you giggle.

"This is different!"

No shit.

Leon thinks inwardly as sapphire eyes scan the building once more. Motels for sex used to be inconspicuous during his time. He really is getting old.

"You wanna check in bunny?"

You nod your head quite excitedly with a huge grin on her face, there's no mistaking it. Your eagerness, and Leon relents. Of course you would want a vacation and his cock. No surprise there.

Leon sighs and squeezes your hand, being the gentleman that he is, leading you inside of the garish establishment. He'd be lyin g if he says he isn't the least bit interesting, you were always the more exciting and free-spirited one.

On the reception counter, he waits for the key, with you standing just beside him, hands still entwined. As Leon grew curious, you grew embarrassed. The lobby was decorated with red. Red hearts, mirrors, sensual posters, and oh god, the brochures on a nearby rack that had photos of toys and costumes

You're fairly aware that love hotels are popular, but now that you're gonna experience this for yourself, bashfulness and your own eagerness had you blushing.

Leon could see you, feel how you'd gone and overheated in his arms and you both aren't in the room yet. He chuckles, squeezing you. You got him going now, as a shiver runs down his spine.

"Are you interested in a specific suite? You can take a look on our brochure here."

The receptionist asks and Leon shakes his head.

"We're fine with anything."

The receptionist nods, handing Leon the key as he cooly leads you to the designated room. Despite his laidback demeanor, Leon is already briskly walking, adrenaline in his veins. As you both reached the designated room, he eases the key in the lock as it opens with a low clicking sound. He leads you inside first, following behind but not before locking the door while you turn the lights on. Another clicking sound, the lighting is a kind of low red and Leon blinks as he follows in, you both inspect the room with amusement and fascination. There inside the center of the room is a queen round bed, with a heart-shaped headboard, covered in satin sheets and what seems to be a confetti of hearts on the foot of the bead, even the pillows were heart-shaped, and the most ridiculous part were the mirrors. Everywhere. Mirrors on the wall, on the ceiling, mirrors of various  shapes and sizes at each of the walls. Red, heart-shaped lounge chairs and a faux tiger rug. Gaudy as the room is, it certainly looks like a place to fuck alright. 

Your eyes slowly adjust to the light, but you were beaten by Leon, who is certainly not the least bit captivated by the interior choices. He did, however, wanted to fuck you in it. He's already dropped his coat on the floor before proceeding to toss his shirt away as he stares at you with an amused smirk while you stood speechless.

"You embarrassed now?

He asks while putting his hands on your waist before turning you around to face him. Face his smug face smirking at you.

"Who? Me?"

You reply with a cocky tone.

"Nah."

You wink at him and he chuckles, he takes your hand pulling you to him as he strides to sit on the edge of the bed.

"Figures," he shrugs "You always wanna fuck me. Don't you, bunny?"

He coos before kissing your palms, your fingertips brush across his lower lip, and he kisses your fingertips one by one, the small act only making you shiver.

"Is that a problem?"

You ask him as that familiar warmth pools in your stomach, he had just finished unbuckling his belt and is now rubbing his hands on your thighs, before peeling your skirt off of you.

He gives you that same handsome grin, there was a sparkle in his eyes and you blush. You take off the rest of your upper clothing to help him before Leon pulls you to sit on his lap, his pretty bunny.

He presses his lips into yours in a sweet kiss, before sweeping his tongue on your lower lip, a cue to open your mouth, proceeding to stick his tongue inside your mouth, tasting you and you sink into his lap. The kiss a passionate tango and as you both part for air, his lips connects to yours with a thin strand of saliva. He swipes it with his thumb before chuckling.

"You're so fucking pretty."

He breathes out before lifting you up, only to place you gently on the bed. Leon's eyes roam over your voluptuous figure, smirking at the dampness on your underwear, he kneels down, peeling that last pesky article of clothing off of you, already admiring how swollen your clit is already.

"So fucking hot too."

He murmurs against your skin as he trails kisses on your ankle, your knees, and up your thighs.

Your breath hitches on your throat, you feel yourself soaking the sheets with every kiss.

Your blissed out face doesn't escape Leon and he smirks, he presses another kiss on your pelvis, before he presses a kiss on your clit. It was like a greeting, in his silly mind.  

His cold breath against fans against your skin before he takes a long, languid lick on your pussy.

Your hands immediately reach down to grip fistfuls of his dark hair, pulling him closer as he licked over your slit, lapping at your essence.

"Fuck, Leon."

You whimper, tossing your head back and Leon smirks against your pussy. He always liked seeing you coming undone with his mouth. His tongue dips into your entrance, the wet appendage flicking and curling inside you.

He presses his thumb on your clit while his mouth still worked on you, relishing in your sweet taste and breathy moans while you could only shut her eyes closed and sob his name helplessly. He doesn't let up, he pulls his tongue out to wrap your clit in his warm mouth and sucking it, inserting two fingers inside your sopping wet pussy. Scissoring and curling inside you while his tongue flicks and sucks on the hood of your clit. It doesn't take look that you gush around his fingers in an orgasm and he smirks. He let's you breath, admiring your flushed face as he stood up. Takes his boxers off and his thick cock springs out, already erect leaking with precum. He stands beside your face. "Suck."

Despite his domineering voice, he looks at you with soft eyes and you turn your body to his direction, you sit up on the bed. With a lick of your lips, your fingers trail over his abs, before your tongue sweeps across his slit, swiping it clean with his precum and he grunts, his body tensing in your touch.

"Fuck yeah."

He hisses through gritted teeth as your tongue swirls around the head before engulfing his dick with your mouth. You dip your head, swallowing him deeper as your hands grab his waits, until his length reaches the back of your throat, knowing he was looking, you don't break eye contact and you suck his cock, thick on your tongue and rolling your eyes while he looks.

"Shit, bunny. So pretty sucking cock like that."

Leon's voice is throaty and you know he likes what he sees, his dick practically jumped in your mouth and you moan. The vibrations make him shiver violently, and he grunts.

"Goddamn."

He breathes, patting your cheeks, A signal for you to stop and you peels yourself off him with a pout like he had just taken your favorite lollipop. Which is true, he is after all, your favorite lollipop.

"Don't be upset now. You suck cock so good, I won't last long."

You both laugh in unison as he breathes in to calm himself, while stroke his cock, he twirls a finger around.

"Turn around for me, bunny. On your fours if you wanna be good."

You hum in response, turning your back to bend over for him. You arch your back, with your ass perked up against him. In that moment, you understand why Leon wanted to fuck you from behind. The image of you bent over and him standing up, his dick plush on your ass is reflected in all of the mirrors on the walls and you let out a scandalized gasp while Leon only chuckles, sensing your embarrassment.

"Wanna see you moan while I pound you into that fucking mattress."

Leon winks at you from the mirror and you see his smug expression reflected everywhere. He kisses your ass cheeks, he's too horny out his damn mind now. He's inside you with one strong thrust, his thick cock all the way inside and he shuts his eyes close. Stilling for a moment to let you adjust to his sized as you close your eyes and whimper.

"Jesus Christ… no matter how many times I fuck this pussy."

He groans, sweeping his auburn strands before steadying his grip on your waist.

"It never gets used to me. Poor little thing."

The fullness makes you squirm and he savors the addictive feeling of your walls clenching on his cock desperate to get him to just fit. You're pressed against the mattress, your pathetic moans muffled by the sheets.

When he starts to thrust, finding that rhythm, your body jerks forward with every rock of his hips. His body moves to cover your own.

"Watch us baby."

He whispers, his tongue sweeping on the shell of your ear and you could only whimper. Clutching the sheets as he finds his rhythm with his hips rocking against yours.

"Look. Don't hide."

He raps before tugging on your hair to forcibly lift up your face while his free hand tug on your arms. You find yourself feeling small with Leon's muscular body covering you. The muscles on his arm flex as both his hands are now grabbing your arms and your hair. The way his muscles pulled and flexed as his hips slams against her ass, the way your ass bounced on him, the thin layer of sweat that coated his torso, the way his mouth hung open in ragged breaths, the way your breasts bounce at every thrust. You feel so turned on at the sight it was crazy. It looked so erotic. This only elicits louder moans from you, while you move back against him, meeting his thrusts.

"Shit!" Leon groans, clenching his jaw. This positions and rhythm was blowing his mind, coupled with how your face twists into pleasure and the heat that coiled in his stomach. This was so fucking hot, he really wouldn't last long.

"Come here" He whispers, planting a kiss on your shoulder, before pulling out which makes you whine in displeasure. He chuckles, both his hands grab you, picking you up. Manhandling your ass to pin you down the mattress. "Shh," he coos. "Not done with you yet bunny."

He chuckles before kissing your nose, guiding himself back inside your pussy. You chuckle as you look at the mirror on the ceiling.

"You've always had a nice ass."

You tease, despite the breathlessness of your voice and Leon only cocks his head to the side in confusion before following your line of sight, remembering that there was a mirror atop the ceiling and he chuckles, a rush of desire running through his veins with the sight of tangled limbs.

"Yeah, so?" His tone full of sass as he smirks. "Jealous much?"

You laugh as he places his fingers under your jawline, bringing your face close before crashing his lips down yours in a sloppy kiss, before moving inside you again. His pace rougher and faster, cock slamming down your pussy like a freight train as you lock your legs around his waist tight, bringing him close before you bite down on his shoulder and Leon hisses a curse.

He peels your legs off of him first before hooking your legs above his shoulders. He growls, this position slips him in deeper, and you squeeze his cock tighter.

"Holy fucking shit!

He exclaims, it's no secret that you both are vocal in the bedroom. You both love verbally assuring each other that the pleasure is mutual, you were always the louder one, but this time it was Leon. Completely pussy whipped with every clench of your walls.

"Got me drunk on this tight fucking pussy."

He grunts and your hands reach out to grab his hips, slamming down on you rougher with every thrust. Your nails digging on the flesh of his waist and he moans. His jaw slacked, sweat dripping down.

"I'm gonna cum inside yeah? Gonna fill this tight pussy up for making me this rabid."

He laughs as his thrusts become erratic. He knows you're close, just like you know that he's close as well.

"Goddamn, got me addicted to pussy."

He moans and your toes curl as he slams into you one last time. His body tensing up, shooting ropes of his cum inside you as you both climax together.

"Yeah, bunny. So good for me. Creaming on this cock like a good girl."

He soothes you, kissing your forehead as you tremble beneath him in the intensity of your orgasm, he looks at you intently. Rubbing your body gently. Not pulling out yet as you gush around his cock.

"You're so pretty when you cum."

He hums. You both cuddle up for a minute to calm down before he pulls out.

Much to Leon's surprise, you whine.

"Lovey… don't pull out yet…"

Leon chuckles, pulling you into his arms to cradle your body.

"Yeah? Give me a minute. Have mercy on the lil guy."

You giggle softly, you were feeling fuzzy and the throbbing in your pussy suggests you were not fully sated yet, and with the way Leon looks at you like a hawk, he wants another too.

"There's nothing little about that."

You retort, giving his chest a little slip and he has a proud look on his face.

"Yeah? Maybe I'll compare it with those next time. Gonna use it on you."

He winks, pointing at the assortment of toys just neatly placed on the bedside table that went unnoticed in the heat of your lovemaking, as you both share a hearty laugh.

[familiarscars]

Drive You Insane | Noah Sebastian 07

adult content | minors do NOT interact.

⋆ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. Noah Sebastian X psychiatrist!Reader.

⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. A mysterious new patient arrives at the Grimshade sanatorium and you have been tasked with taking care of his case.

⋆ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒). disturbing environment, violence, unconventional treatments, manipulation, questionable relationships, explicit sex and profanity.

I really need your reblog! On Tumblr, the content reaches more views and is delivered more through reblog and I really wanted more people to be able to read what I write. I'm counting on you from now on, ok?

Your body was there, submerged in the warm water of the bathtub, but your mind floated far away, drifting between scattered thoughts. With your eyes closed, you forced yourself to empty your mind, to escape, even if only for a few seconds.

Any daydream seemed more appealing than reality.

Your fingers glided over the water’s surface, tracing invisible paths. Deep in your subconscious, you saw yourself immersed in a river of crystalline waters, the thin fabric of your nightgown clinging to your skin as the current wrapped around your body.

It was too comfortable. Almost natural.

Above you, a gray sky stretched endlessly—no sun, no horizon. A dense mist spread like a veil, punishing anyone who dared to see beyond. Bare trees raised twisted branches around you, and between them, flocks of black birds tore through the sky, forming a noisy procession, coming and going like omens.

Every stroke, aimless, subtly altered the reality around you, but you only noticed when the clear water began to darken. The turquoise deepened into navy blue, and then, in a matter of seconds, turned into an opaque, bottomless black.

Your brows furrowed, eyes narrowing as you tried to determine if it was just a trick of your mind. But no—the river was black.

Black like the birds that cut through the sky above you.

And then, the silence shattered.

The birds’ caws morphed into an agonizing screech, like metal being dragged across a rough surface. The sound pierced your ears like splinters, making your skin prickle, your chest tighten, and your brain compress as if caught between crushing hands.

And that was enough to pull you back.

Your body jolted awake, lungs sucking in air as if you had just emerged from drowning, a dry sound tearing from your throat, your eyes flying open with the flood of dream images still spinning in your mind.

Still struggling to catch your breath, your eyes gradually returned to normal, and your shoulders relaxed. Strands of hair still clung to your face, and you ran your fingers through them, pushing them back.

That’s when you noticed something unusual.

Small pink droplets slid slowly from your damp strands, trickling down your skin, tracing a path until they reached your thighs.

The water was no longer warm.

No longer clear.

The liquid surrounding you was dense, viscous, and dyed a deep red—a crimson so intense it seemed to glow under the dim bathroom light. Your arms floated on the ruby surface, your hands coated in the thick substance, slow carmine serpents slithering down your skin. A metallic scent filled your nostrils, heavy, nauseating, as if you were breathing in horror itself.

Your heartbeat pounded against your temples. Your chest rose and fell in growing panic.

And then, the fear erupted.

A wild, piercing scream tore from your throat, filling the bathroom and crashing against the cold walls, reverberating as if the room itself echoed your terror.

You lunged out of the bathtub in a desperate impulse, but your damp feet betrayed your haste. Your body slipped on the drenched floor, sliding along with the pinkish water spreading across the cold tiles.

Every movement was a battle against your own fear. Your body, weighed down by terror, seemed to drag itself forward, as if struggling to escape something unseen—something still lingering in the air, suffocating and real. Your knees and elbows scraped against the uneven ceramic, stinging from the impact, but the pain was drowned out by the panic pounding in your chest.

You crawled toward the wall beside the door, fingers trembling as you pushed your wet hair from your face. You took a deep breath before finally lifting your gaze, bracing yourself for the horrifying sight you expected to find.

But the shock silenced you once more.

The terror from seconds ago… had vanished.

The water scattered across the floor was crystal clear, odorless, with no trace of blood. Your damp skin bore no crimson stains, no sign that any of it had been real.

Your heart pounded so violently it felt like it was echoing through the walls. With unsteady steps, you crossed the room, nearly slipping on the smooth tiles, and stopped in front of the bathtub.

The floor reflected the dim bathroom light.

The remaining water was perfectly clear.

You let out a heavy sigh, rolling your shoulders back as if you could shake off the tension while combing your hair in front of the mirror.

"Never sleeping in the bathtub again… noted."

Your own voice sounded like a whisper in the vast silence of the room, a weak effort to bring rationality to what had just happened.

If your mother were here, she would certainly blame the nightmares and distorted visions on your habit of reading too many case files about murders before bed. Maybe she was right. But let’s be honest—no amount of reading could create something more disturbing than Grimshade itself. Staring at any corner of that hospital for too long was enough to leave invisible scars, to imprint the mind with images that were hard to forget.

And now, even your dreams were being contaminated.

"You're already in the worst of hells. This place is cursed—it will drain your mind, blur the line between real and illusion… You'll go insane on your own, just by being here. If you love playing detective so much, why have you never read about the legend of Grimshade?"

Noah’s voice echoed in your head, so vividly it felt like he was right behind you.

Your body tensed.

Then, you forced a smile. Small. Artificial.

You shook your head, pushing away the confusion as if it were just another intrusive thought. You knew the psychological effects a psychiatric hospital could have, even on the most lucid minds. It was a dense, heavy environment. But you were prepared. You never got involved in your cases more than necessary. They had no power to consume you.

You were not Grimshade.

And Grimshade would never be you.

In the hallways, you maintained a flawless appearance.

Polite smiles for your colleagues, a cordial nod to a few patients. Everything as expected. Everything under control.

On the clock, the hands were nearing 9 AM, and according to your schedule, you were about to face your first session of the day.

Noah.

Stopping in front of the door, you took a deep breath. You had spent the entire night tossing and turning, racking your brain for the simplest solution to your ongoing problem with him.

The aggressive approach didn’t work—he was as skittish as a stray cat. Challenging him wasn’t the best choice either; Noah always retaliated with equal recklessness, and you knew stepping into that game would be dangerous.

Only one option remained.

When he entered the room, cuffed, head down, his tattooed arms exposed beneath the white tank top, the guard showed no concern in shoving him into the chair. The impact didn’t seem to bother him. Only then did he slowly lift his head, dark strands falling over his eyes before he flicked them away with a subtle tilt of his head.

Expressionless.

Noah was unpredictable.

You never knew what to expect. If today he would ignore you like a religious pamphlet, threaten you like a gang member, or toy with the loose threads of your mind in a dangerous game of intimidation and seduction.

Without looking away, you gave a small nod to the guard, who obeyed the order and left the room.

Now, it was just the two of you.

Noah exhaled silently, relaxing his shoulders and sinking slightly deeper into the chair, his posture finally loosening.

Yet, he still remained silent.

"I don’t need much to tell you’re not happy to see me…" You started, spinning the pen between your fingers, breaking the silence with a controlled tone.

Noah only shrugged, his expression locked behind an icy wall.

You knew he would choose distance.

Visibly unsettled, you shifted in your chair, clenching your fists on the desk, your eyes now fixed in a silent warning.

"Despite your resistance, I will continue to be your psychiatrist, Noah," you said, your voice firm and incisive. "As long as you are a patient in this sanatorium and as long as I am employed here, you'll have to deal with that."

He didn’t react, yet his eyes followed your every movement.

"Unfortunately, I can't grant your wish to be left alone in your cell. I took an oath at my graduation never to deny treatment to a patient, and the sanatorium's policy requires that, unless a patient is in an inaccessible condition, they must have mandatory weekly sessions."

Despite his outward disinterest, there was something in his eyes that said otherwise—he was paying attention.

"But to improve our time together during these sessions, I have an offer to make."

You saw his eyebrow slowly lift, as if questioning where you were going with this.

"If you cooperate and engage in conversation, I won’t discuss your case anymore, much less use you as an interrogation subject. You’ll only say what you feel like saying."

There was something almost triumphant about the way he adjusted his posture, leaning slightly closer to the desk, his movements subtle. And then, with a gesture as small as it was dangerous, Noah’s index finger slid over a strand of your hair.

It was sickening. Terrible. Twisted.

A psychiatrist should never allow any kind of intimate contact with a patient—especially not a patient like Noah. But when he did it, when his eyes locked onto yours, it was as if you were trapped in a hypnotic spiral. Difficult to escape.

"I can accept your idea, doctor…" he said, his voice smooth as silk, while the strand of hair slid down to his nose, where he inhaled deeply. "But I choose the topic of our conversations."

"Agreed." You nodded, your tone decisive, trying to maintain composure while he kept watching you so intently. "What’s the topic of today’s session?"

"You."

"Me?"

"I'm genuinely curious to know more about you…" His voice floated through the air, soft, almost like a melody, while his gaze studied every part of your figure.

Noah had a commanding presence, as if every word he spoke carried a dangerous magnetism. That tone—seductive and razor-sharp—made your skin prickle, a sensation of discomfort mixed with something else you didn’t want to name, but it was there, pulsing, contaminating you in a disturbing way.

"What do you want to know?" you asked, trying to keep your composure, your voice lower and more controlled, as if you were trying to conceal the internal turmoil rising within you.

He released the strand of hair with a deliberate slowness, letting it fall beside your face, then leaned back into the chair with calculated ease, his cuffed wrists resting on his thighs. He looked comfortable, in control.

"Are you from here?" he asked, propping his chin on his hands, his gaze focused. "Are you from Blackridge?"

"N-no… I moved here after passing the selection process." Your response came out a bit faster than you expected. "I’m from Death Sea, a small town in northern Thorneveil."

"I thought Thorneveil was already a corpse," he mocked.

He wasn’t entirely wrong to be surprised. Your town was practically in an apocalyptic state. The workers’ strike had made resources scarce, and those with money had drained every organic source of income, leaving the unprepared in a desperate situation. Anyone without financial reserves was abandoned, forced to fight for every crumb.

Luckily, your parents had savings. They had always worked hard as public employees, which kept them stable amidst the chaos. Growing up in a comfortable life, with the financial security they could provide, almost felt like a privilege in those circumstances.

"Why did you choose to come here? You seem young, recently graduated, maybe… You could’ve found a job somewhere better."

You shrugged, a weak chuckle escaping.

"There wasn’t a better job, Noah… After I graduated, I needed to start paying off the student loans I took during college. I didn’t want to ask my parents for help; they had already done enough. So I started applying for every job I could find and took the first yes I got."

Noah tilted his head slightly, his eyes fixed on you.

"Have they visited you yet?"

"Not yet. My father isn't well enough to handle a trip like this, and my mother…" You let out a brief laugh. "Let’s just say she’d have a meltdown just from seeing this place. And honestly, you wouldn’t want to share a cell with a woman obsessed with cleanliness and a constant scent of eucalyptus in her nose."

A different gleam crossed Noah’s gaze, and for a moment, you almost believed you saw a genuine smile forming at the corner of his lips.

"Are they your only family?"

"Yes. I'm not one to have many friends, and the few I do have... I think I've been out of touch for so long they must have forgotten me."

He tilted his head slightly. "And a boyfriend?"

"I don’t have one."

"But you had one." His chin subtly pointed toward your hand, specifically at the faint, pale mark on your ring finger. "Where is he now?"

"Our relationship started in college. He decided to pursue his career elsewhere, and I chose not to go with him."

"Why?"

"Because that was his dream, not mine." Your response came firm, without the intention of sounding harsh, but it certainly did. "He had a guaranteed job, friends, a home waiting for him. If I had gone, I would have been giving up everything to live in the shadow of his plans, relying on a country that wasn’t mine, far from my family. He had people to turn to if he failed, and me? I would have had to rebuild myself from scratch. It wasn’t fair."

"So you stayed out of fear."

"I stayed because I knew exactly what I wanted for my life. I had my own goals, and I wasn’t going to shape them to fit his."

Noah analyzed every word, as if savoring the answer.

"And did he accept that?"

"No. He said my worldview was small for choosing to stay in a safe place rather than taking a risk out there."

Noah fell silent for a moment.

"But you don’t seem regretful."

"Because I’m not." You held his gaze. "I did what I had to do."

He nodded slowly, sinking you both into a momentary silence. Time in the room was running out, and you knew you couldn't waste this opportunity.

"So, how about we make our agreement fairer for both of us?" Your voice cut through the silence, drawing his attention back to you. "Our sessions can follow whatever topics you choose, but at the end of each one, I get the right to ask a single question. A question about your life, just like you did with me."

Noah raised an eyebrow but didn’t show any irritation.

"I’m not going to open up to you like this is some normal therapy session on a random Wednesday."

"That’s fine," you countered, keeping your voice deliberately soft. "I just need you to answer with a simple yes or no."

For some reason, he hesitated. His jaw tightened slightly, and for a brief moment, you noticed a trace of discomfort in his posture. That was a victory.

"Okay. Ask."

You took a deep breath, mentally filtering through the flood of questions you could ask. Caution was necessary. The chance of getting anything was slim, and wasting it on the wrong question would be unforgivable.

"Did you and Rachel have a happy relationship?"

The change was immediate. Noah absorbed your words as if he had been pulled into a deep, dark abyss. His gaze, once sharp and focused, turned hazy, lost in a sea of thoughts that dragged him far away from the room.

The line of his jaw tensed. His expression hardened.

"No." The word came out low, almost inaudible.

Before you could react, the door opened, and one of the guards entered to escort him back. Noah didn’t look back, didn’t offer a final glance or expression. He simply stood up and followed the guard, allowing himself to be taken away.

But that didn’t matter.

You would see him again soon.

And you already knew what your next question would be.

Your theory was solidifying with more force with each new piece of this puzzle. Noah’s version and the one told at the fraternity not only diverged, but seemed to belong to completely different stories. He and Rachel definitely had a troubled relationship. Enough to motivate a murder? Maybe. But even homicidal impulses, even in psychopathic minds, usually require a trigger—something that unlocks something deep, primal.

So what, after all, could his have been?

If Noah was really like they described him in the fraternity, someone charismatic, engaging, and with a dominant nature, it would be hard to picture him as an impulsive killer. Someone like him—if guilty—would have planned it, made sure each piece was in place before acting.

This story still had a missing gap.

If Noah truly fit the profile of an abulic psychopath, that type of personality wasn’t driven solely by internal impulses, but also by the influence of the environment, peer pressure, and the surroundings. He could have committed the crime not out of a genuine desire to kill, but because he was led to it—persuaded, pressured, or manipulated in some way.

If that was the case, then he wasn’t alone.

This would open two equally disturbing possibilities: someone instigated him to commit the murder, or he was just a piece in something larger, perhaps even a scapegoat.

But who would have that power over Noah? And why?

If he were as impressionable as the diagnosis suggested, then the real threat might not be in his cell… but out there.

Noah didn’t fit the mold.

You squinted and massaged your temples, trying to dissipate the fog of frustration clouding your thoughts. Nothing made sense.

A typical psychopath would take pride in their superiority, sharp intelligence, and control over their own narrative. They didn’t bow to fate, they didn’t accept being swallowed by the system without at least an attempt to resist. But Noah? He was simply there. Indifferent. Either he was different from what they imagined, or there was something more—something he didn’t want to, or couldn’t, reveal.

You stacked the papers, trying to ignore the throbbing in your head. Your diagnosis was incomplete. And worse, the missing piece in this equation might be the very key to understanding whether Noah was a murderer or just a man swallowed by something far darker.

Tying your hair up into a high bun, you left the room in search of some air. The sanatorium continued in its chaotic rhythm—patients flailing, sharp screams echoing through the halls as nurses tried to contain them. You crossed the long hallway, lit by the large glass windows revealing the outside area.

Your mind, whenever it remembered the files, couldn’t help but circle around a thought that, ironically, bordered on the comical—although there was nothing funny about it. If Noah really had a diagnosable mental condition, like abulic psychopathy, why would anyone need to forge a report?

Unless…

Unless his true diagnosis wasn’t convincing enough to keep him out of prison. Maybe he needed something more “palatable” to guarantee his internment there. After all, that place didn’t operate solely on science and medicine—in Blackridge, traditionalism still reigned over reason. Not everything was accepted so easily.

On the third floor of the sanatorium was the archive room, where the files of all the patients who had passed through Grimshade were stored. Ideally, as in any storeroom, there should have been someone responsible for organizing and maintaining the space, but it came as no surprise to find it completely empty and abandoned.

Hundreds of folders scattered amid piles of disordered papers, a thick layer of dust covering everything, making your nose itch in an irritating way. While avoiding the old files, identifiable by the yellowed texture of the paper, you moved firmly through the room, between high shelves with built-in drawers. Through the window, the late afternoon painted the sky in dark hues, a sign that night would fall soon. Anticipating that, you switched on the light—but nothing happened. You tried again. And again. The lights stayed off.

Swallowing hard, you knew you needed to be quick. Find the file and get out before the darkness made the search impossible.

Following the alphabetical order, your fingers slid along the shelf until they reached the letter N. You scanned the names one by one until you reached Noah’s—well, where it should have been. The empty space before your eyes made your stomach twist.

A frustrated sigh escaped your lips as you tapped the side of the shelf.

“Hell!” you muttered, running your fingers across your forehead.

That question was eating away at your sanity, it was undeniable. Your thoughts revolved around a single point: Noah. The case. The gaps that insisted on remaining open. How to turn the game around? How to find the truth? Obsession took over you in an almost irrational way, as if it were your responsibility to prove something, as if the guilt were yours. In the end, you wanted Noah’s innocence more than he did himself.

“Who the hell would have an interest in stealing this?” you wondered, chewing on your index fingernail.

You took a deep breath, trying to control your irritation, but then a flash of an idea crossed your mind.

The newly registered files? Those would be on the first shelves.

With renewed urgency, your fingers slid back across the files. You searched through each folder, reviewed the names once, twice, sixteen times. Frustration climbed with each passing second, and the sense of urgency made your chest race. Sweat gathered on your temples, and your breathing grew irregular.

Then, a file fell to the ground.

For a moment, you held your breath.

Please.

You bent down, pushing the strands of hair sticking to your forehead aside, and picked up the paper with trembling hands.

It wasn’t Noah.

It was Elias Faulkner.

Driven by curiosity and the lack of success in your last search, you decided to open the file.

GRIMSHADE PSYCHIATRIC INSTITUTE MEDICAL FILE – RESTRICTED ARCHIVE

Name: Dr. Elias Faulkner Admission Date: March 14, 2023 Dismissal Date: December 21, 2023 Reason for Dismissal: Severe cognitive decline, acute psychotic episode. Last Clinical Note: Intermittent catatonic state.

PROFESSIONAL HISTORY

Dr. Elias Faulkner joined Grimshade as a clinical psychiatrist specializing in dissociative disorders. Known for his rigorous and investigative approach, he showed particular interest in cases of patients presenting symptoms of amnesia and psychopathy. In the early months, Faulkner requested access to the historical files of the sanatorium, seeking patterns between the old patients and the more recent ones. He became particularly obsessed with a group of records with no clear identification—sealed documents that only mentioned “Inominable Patients.”

PSYCHOLOGICAL DECLINE Early Symptoms (May 2023)

- Reports of severe insomnia and recurring nightmares. - Comments about the feeling of being watched inside the facilities, even in isolated areas. - Episodes of spatial disorientation within the sanatorium, claiming hallways seemed to shift places.

Critical Phase (August 2023)

- Reports from colleagues indicate that Faulkner began to avoid mirrors and reflective surfaces. - He was found in a state of shock after an episode where he claimed to have seen himself inside an empty cell. - Notes in his personal diary revealed repeated phrases such as: “The reflection watches me, but it’s not me.” “They’re inside me. How many of me are there?”

Collapse and Dismissal (December 2023)

- During a meeting with the team, Dr. Faulkner entered an extreme dissociative state, unable to recognize colleagues or himself. - He was found wandering the halls muttering in a neutral tone: “Elias Faulkner. That name doesn’t belong to me.” - Transferred to an isolation ward, where he spent the following days in a semi-catatonic state, refusing to speak or respond to external stimuli.

Your eyes widened, and in a near-involuntary reflex, you dropped the file onto the nearest wooden surface you found. The shock coursed through your body like an electric shock, your legs froze, refusing to obey. Your mind spun as it processed what you had just read.

Dr. Faulkner.

The name burned in your consciousness. He was the doctor Noah had mentioned in group therapy.

“You’re already in the worst of hell. This place is cursed, it will drain your mind, blur the line between the real and the illusory… You’ll go crazy just for being here. If you love playing detective so much, why haven’t you read about the Grimshade legend?”

Noah’s voice echoed in your mind, pulling you from your trance. Your gaze shot to the windows—there was no more daylight. The stuffy room was now immersed in darkness, and a cold shiver ran down your spine.

Your body reacted before your mind could formulate a plan. With nerves on edge, you ran to the door and grabbed the doorknob tightly. Pulled. Pushed. Nothing.

Despair settled in the instant you realized the door was stuck. A hoarse scream tore through your throat, echoing in the emptiness of the archive room.

⭑ @bloody-spades ; @iluvmewwwww75 ; @anarchydomainglory ; @foliosgirl ; @lacy1986 ; @chey-h ; @supersquirrel1996 ; @zozaline​ ; @just-randomm-stuff ; @do-it-jakey-baby ; @flowery-mess ; @youcanreadmy-mind ; @tikosblogg ; @gothic-pumpkin ;

[gofishygo]

dark siren! ghoap x reader

notes: kidnapping, initially just ghost x soap

siren! soap likes to collect the pretty human artefacts that have washed into the open ocean. books that had been weathered down by tide, necklaces with rhinestones plucked out through rough currents, sometimes old toys- bits of them, that he broken and melded to match the mines in darker parts of the ocean he had yet to explore. darker parts, where siren! ghost had came from. now, he- both live a simpler life than before- hunting below the surface with the other, drawing on delicate cuttlefish shell and drying coral with the edge of his claws. he is no longer forced to think about them. the ships that poisoned his waters, the fishhook that impaled the side of his head with a starburst scar, humans.

(of course he still does.)

because in recent times, he finds himself.. almost eroding, chipping away with the march of time. and although he likes to sum it to no longer reeling the rush of missions, the adrenaline of fights where sailors ended up entangled in algae on the sea floor, he thinks- knows that he is missing something.

(when he was decades younger- still johnny, he would disassemble the smaller fishing boats and their engines- pick apart until there was nothing but gear and wood and oil, until all he could see was the simplest parts of such a complex machine, and he would always know exactly how it had sunk years before humans would ever realise. he could have saved them, knowing what they had needed before they, themselves had.)

and he is restless, tapping against both rocks and relics, despite how ghost weaves his fingers between his. spends his late nights rummaging through waterlogged pages in a dry cavern, eyes lingering for a second too long on any depiction humans- soft faces, smooth and unscaled skin, legs that he could snap and shatter within a moments notice. he hates these things, the only animal that he has wished to drive extinct. hates what he suspects he thinks about the almost docile statures in those books. but, though he has never been out of the water, has never seen grass paddocks and forest thickets and gardens firsthand, he suddenly feels like he is a sunflower, neck arched up proudly to the surface, face longing for the warmth of the sun and the dampness of freshwater in solid earth, and silently, with clandestine embedded into his thoughts- the touch of a human who has never seen the coldness, roughness of an ocean full of sirens, who has only ever lived in places that he imagines in his dreams.

but ghost, he grows on him, continues to grow on him like barnacles crusted onto the find of whales and scared into wharfside rocks- gripping onto his sides- intense, crushing, but with near unbearable loyalty. he knows that the siren would do anything for his best interests- even if he is not fully aware of his own, yet. only needs to kiss the younger, taste the saltwater of soap’s lips on his, to know the words that soap does not yet know how to say.

and the next time ghost sees soap on the shorelines, there is no trinket or inanimate gift in his hand- not a sand dollar, sea glass, not even the tiny sculptures that the people of the wharfside cities make. it is soft, and moving, sobbing into his shoulder, tears creating crystalline streaks over marred flesh, and it is beautiful. it is a human, far prettier than those inked, stone cold faces he has fought, with shiny eyes and babbled cries instead of violent claims of violence, sleazy and crooked teeth. soap thinks it is the sweetest thing ever, wants to keep it tucked under his fins, knows that ghost thinks so too.

“please, won’t ever go to the seaside again, ‘ll be good, move far out from here, into the mainlands- never bother your home again, please, promise-“

and for the first time, johnny sees what ghost does- knows exactly what this poor, terrified creature needs. he scoops you up, all kicking and screaming, hand cupping the side of your face. kisses the crown of your head so gently- and then you disappear under the tide.

[circism]

senses, featuring satoru gojo. ʚɞ dom!gojo, sub!reader, consensual, praise, size difference, petnames (princess, baby, my girl), slight dumbification, not proofread, ooc gojo. w.c. 720 words.

˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆｡ circe's note. another repost!! he's my guilty pleasure... i honestly might do a longer in-depth of this >~< i think he deserves it.. maybe...

it'd been something you mentioned back and forth with your boyfriend, tossing it aimlessly across dinner and the clattering of cutlery - his blindfold, that is. you'd seen satoru without his blindfold countless times, those bright crystalline blue eyes and the long white eyelashes to frame them, he really was a sight to behold when he relaxed and shrugged off that black fabric obscuring such beauty. you had a feeling he knew this too, how could he not when women fawn over him without the blindfold?

back and forth, back and forth.

'let me wear it,' you'd whine like a child. how hard was it to convince him? this was unnecessary! satoru seemed to be a boulder unmoving, waving you off with his hand and cheeky grin as he assures you that a time will come but when is that time? how long was you going to be made to wear his blindfold for a few seconds, just to see how much it affected his sight? days and weeks passed, turning into months and you'd developed a nasty habit to puff your cheeks and pout whenever you'd see the fabric laying idle around your shared apartment.

"is this what you wanted, princess?" his breath is hot against your ear, fanning across your skin and raising goosebumps in its wake. he's been leaning over you for what feels like minutes, the burn in your thighs doing little to reassure you just how little time had actually passed. your legs are hitched up on his shoulders, feet hanging unceremoniously over his broad back. moments before, you'd been admiring the way the muscles of his back ripple under the compression shirt he'd chose to wear today but now your vision was black.

black. that's all you could see. was it the same for satoru? you're pulled from your waning thoughts by another deep stroke of his hips, pressing his pelvic bone flush to your sensitive clit. a whimper elicits from you, drawn from deep in your chest and you're left clawing at the plush flesh of your own thighs, satoru's shoulders just out of reach. when you'd first got together with satoru, he'd been unmistakably clumsy in this department, unable to put the sheer length of his cock to use properly but much time has passed and now it seems to be like he's honed his arts, perfected in pleasing you only.

"come on baby, cat got your tongue?" satoru chuckles, that cocky and gloating tone to his voice that you're so familiar with. the burn in your thighs disappears with every roll of his hips but it lingers, reminding you that you're not asleep and this is no dream. you've been locked in this position for as long as you can remember at this point, faint stars and static showing in the darkness behind his blindfold. while you may not be able to enjoy the sight, satoru has the freewill to devour every last detail about the scene before him. the way your thighs tremble, your nails scramble for anything to grab hold of, the glisten of the sweat on your skin and even the way your sweet pussy is beginning to cream on his cock, blending in with the few strands of white hair decorating him.

"mmh- mhm!" you struggle out after a few seconds but no, this was not what you had originally wanted. your taunts and begs were safe for work, for a start but that never lasts long with satoru and you should have recognised that by the devilish look on his face when he came home today, claiming so boldly that you could wear his blindfold. ever since it covered your vision, your senses had been heightened and you'd been left depending on what senses you had left to tell you exactly where satoru was and what he was doing.

"that's my girl," satoru finally grunts, done with the teasing strokes when he loses his patience. he buries his face into the crook of your neck, basking in the heat radiating off your skin. you can't see the grin on his face, his fingertips pressing into your knees as he bends you slightly more, towering his tall, lanky body over yours, "you're doing so good f'me, ain't ya? let's keep it on a little longer, it suits you."

© circism 2025. please do not repost my works onto any other social media platforms. uploading my works into ai is strictly prohibited. associated with @theseabreezestreet.