#wicked by nature au / characters | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mononijikayu · 3 months ago

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why are you obsessed with me? — ryomen sukuna.

"You seemed really into it tonight." he noted casually, though his eyes held that familiar gleam. “Just playing my part, darling.” you replied with a shrug, but your voice was softer, a hint of something warmer seeping through. Sukuna stepped closer, his gaze locked onto yours. "Maybe we’re both playing a little too well, aren’t we, baby doll?" he murmured, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from your face. You met his gaze, a smirk tugging at your lips. "Or maybe we’re not playing at all." you whispered, your voice barely audible over the distant sounds of the crowd outside.

GENRE: alternate universe - modern singers au!

WARNING/S: romance, fluff, secretly dating, nsfw, rated 18 and above, explicit content, kissing, elaborate roleplay, making out, smut, fingering, p to v sex, orgasm, humor, teasing, flirting, playfulness, dancing and singing, possessiveness, characters speaking in sexual innuendo, depiction of sexual acts, depiction of sexual tension, depiction of naked bodies, mention of sexual euphemisms, depiction of explicit sexual content, frontman! sukuna, front!woman/soloist! reader;

WORD COUNT: 8.9k words.

NOTE: finally the starter for this year's kinktober!!! i liked this idea of sukuna being a frontman and just dating another singer and just like getting off doing this play of them having this rivalry but they're actually together??? i sat there and was like 'actually, their bed activities must go wild after every fake fight!'; anyway, i hope you enjoy this!!! i love you all <3

masterlist

kinktober 2024 - kayu's version

if you want to, tip! <3

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PEOPLE DIDN’T KNOW HOW IT STARTED. But everything about the rivalry was electric, charged with an intensity that made headlines and drew crowds. Anyone who had been there from the beginning would swear it was something you had to experience firsthand—a front-row seat to the wildfire that was your feud with Ryomen Sukuna.

Both bands had climbed their way to the top on different wavelengths: you, with your poetic lyrics and magnetic stage presence, a master of drawing the crowd into the emotion of your songs; and Sukuna, with his raw, untamed energy and unapologetic attitude, commanding attention like a force of nature. The music industry loved pitting you against each other, fanning the flames of competition, but no one had expected it to escalate the way it did.

It started innocently enough. Sukuna, in a radio interview, casually commented, “Sure, they're good, if you’re into that whole soft and emotional vibe. I just think music should have a bit more… bite.” The host laughed, the audience cheered, and Ryomen Sukuna’s grin was all teeth—sharp, confident. “You know, you gotta expect more!”

You had fired back the next day on social media with a witty post: “Bite all you want, but if your bark’s louder than your music, maybe you’re just a dog chasing its own tail.”

The tweet went viral within minutes.

The fans loved it. The music blogs devoured it, dissecting every word, every implication. Both your names were plastered across headlines, articles speculating about a burgeoning rivalry that was just too juicy to ignore. The tension simmered, but it was still lighthearted, still playful.

Then Sukuna took it to the next level.

At his next concert, in front of a sold-out crowd, he made a spectacle of it. “This next song….” he announced, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “It’s dedicated to someone who thinks they can keep up with me.” His grin was wicked as the crowd roared in anticipation. The opening notes rang out—an aggressive beat, the kind that grabbed you by the throat. The lyrics were sharp, mocking, filled with clever jabs that made it unmistakable who they were about.

"Got your head in the clouds, but no feet on the ground, baby doll." Sukuna sang with a sneer. "You talk about a big game, but all I hear is sound. Nonsense!"

The audience went wild as the guitar line merged with the drums. The pyrotechnics were going insane with the beat. People ate it up. Social media exploded. Hashtags trended within the hour. Your name was on everyone’s lips, and suddenly, it was your turn.

Not to be outdone, you fired back at your own concert, taking shots at his image, his music, and even his fans. The cheers and screams were deafening; you knew you had his attention. From then on, it was an all-out war, a back-and-forth of jabs and taunts, each concert a new battleground.

Then came the diss tracks.

You released yours first, a biting, cleverly constructed anthem that didn’t just mock his music but dissected his entire persona with surgical precision. The internet went wild. Memes, fan theories, reaction videos—your name was on everyone’s lips. Sukuna's response was swift, and his diss track hit like a punch to the gut. It was brutal, unapologetic, and catchy enough that even your own fans had to admit it was a banger.

Lines were drawn. Your fans and his went head-to-head on every platform imaginable, turning comment sections and fan forums into war zones. Arguments broke out, allegiances were tested, and friendships fractured. The media couldn’t get enough, fueling the fire with articles dissecting every lyric, every post, every glance exchanged between you two. It wasn't just a rivalry anymore; it was a movement.

And through it all, there was an unspoken understanding between you and Sukuna. A thrill in the way your eyes met across the stage, a shared smirk when your names were spoken in the same breath. You were rivals, sure, but there was something else there too—a magnetic pull that neither of you could deny. Every diss, every jab, was just a prelude to something bigger, something inevitable.

People just had to be there. To witness the chaos, the passion, the music that became the soundtrack to an unforgettable war. To see how a feud could blur the line between hate and something far more dangerous. To feel the tension crackling in the air, knowing that this was only the beginning.

On your next concert, where you decided to strike back. “Heard some noise the other day, bothersome noise really.” you told the crowd, a sly smile playing on your lips. “Sounded like a toddler throwing a tantrum. So, I thought, why not give them something real to cry about?”

The audience cheered, sensing the impending retaliation. And you delivered, every line of your song a retort, every beat a blow aimed squarely at Sukuna. "You get on my nerves; You're so fuckin' annoying, you could poison poison?" you sang, a smirk on your lips as the crowd chanted along, the hook instantly catchy, an earworm that would haunt Sukuna’s name for weeks.

By the next day, the diss track was trending everywhere. Ryomen Sukuna was asked about it during an interview, and his reaction was priceless. He chuckled, clearly amused, his eyes gleaming with something dangerously playful. “Oh, I’m annoying, am I?” he mused, leaning back in his chair. “Well, sweetheart, when you’re that easy to rile up, it’s just too tempting not to play.”

Behind closed doors, though, it was a different story.

Backstage at a private after-party for Uraume’s album reveal, Ryomen Sukuna cornered you with a grin that sent a shiver down your spine. "That was cute, baby doll." he said, his voice low, intimate. "But you know you just gave me more to work with, right?"

You laughed, rolling your eyes. "Oh, please. As if you could come up with something half as clever."

Sukuna’s gaze narrowed, his smirk growing. “You think I’m not capable of playing your game?”

"I think you're used to being a blunt instrument, hm?" you teased, leaning closer. "But there's an art to this, darling. Not just noise."

His grin widened. “We’ll see about that, baby doll.” he murmured, his hand brushing yours—intentionally, deliberately. For a moment, your breath hitched. There was a charge in the air between you, an unspoken understanding.

It became a pattern. Each new concert brought a fresh wave of insults, veiled in clever lyrics. Every interview turned into an opportunity to stoke the fire, to keep the fans on the edge of their seats. The tension, the back-and-forth, the rapid-fire comebacks—it all played out in front of the world. But behind the scenes, it was like an elaborate game, a high-stakes dance that neither of you could quit.

"You seemed really into it tonight." he noted casually, though his eyes held that familiar gleam.

“Just playing my part, darling.” you replied with a shrug, but your voice was softer, a hint of something warmer seeping through.

Sukuna stepped closer, his gaze locked onto yours. "Maybe we’re both playing a little too well, aren’t we, baby doll?" he murmured, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from your face.

You met his gaze, a smirk tugging at your lips. "Or maybe we’re not playing at all." you whispered, your voice barely audible over the distant sounds of the crowd outside.

He chuckled, leaning in closer until his lips were a breath away from yours. "Careful, my baby doll." he whispered. "People might start thinking about something else.”

Your smile widened, eyes locked with his. "Maybe it is." you replied, your heart racing in your chest, as his lips finally met yours, soft yet insistent. “Maybe it isn’t.”

══════════════════

THERE WAS SO MUCH ADRENALINE. You were pacing back and forth, adrenaline coursing through your veins as your bandmates tuned their instruments, stealing glances at you. The festival was the biggest one yet, and your set was right after Sukuna and his folk.

The perfect setup for another battle, another clash in this never-ending war. It was another festival gig and Sukuna was here again. But you weren’t just thinking about the performance. Your thoughts kept circling back to that smirk Sukuna flashed you from the stage earlier, as if daring you to make the first move tonight.

Your bassist nudges you with a grin. "You’re not seriously thinking about what he said last week, are you?"

You rolled your eyes. "Of course not." you lied. "But he’s been pushing it lately, don’t you think? I’m just figuring out how to outdo him this time."

Just as you said that, the door swung open, and there he was—Ryomen Sukuna, flanked by his own entourage, looking as smug as ever. His eyes zeroed in on you instantly, that familiar glint of mischief lighting up his gaze.

“Ready to get outclassed again?” he drawled, leaning against the doorframe like he owned the place.

You scoffed, crossing your arms. “Funny, I was about to ask you the same thing. Your set was… okay, if you’re into repetitive noise.”

He chuckled, stepping closer, ignoring the tension that rippled through the room. “Is that the best you’ve got, sweetheart? Because I’ve heard your new track… and honestly, I’m not impressed.”

You raised an eyebrow, your heart pounding with a mix of frustration and exhilaration. “Right, because your lyrical masterpiece about your ex was so groundbreaking. What was it called again? ‘Cliché’? Or was it ‘Cringe’? Hard to tell.”

Sukuna laughed, a low, throaty sound that sent a shiver down your spine, though you’d never admit it. “At least people are talking about it, baby doll.” he shot back, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “Besides, you and I both know… this isn’t about the music anymore.”

You took a step closer, refusing to back down. “Oh? Then what’s it about, Sukuna? Enlighten me.”

He leaned in, his voice dropping to a teasing whisper that only you could hear. “It’s about this… you and me, driving each other crazy. Admit it—you’re having fun.”

You blinked, caught off guard by his honesty. For a second, the noise of the festival outside seemed to fade, and all you could hear was your heartbeat, loud and insistent.

“You wish.” you muttered, trying to keep your voice steady. “I’m just here to win, Sukuna.”

His grin widened, and he moved even closer, so close you could see the sparks in his eyes. “Then let’s see who wins tonight, baby doll.” he murmured, a challenge in every word. "And maybe, just maybe… we’ll figure out what the hell this really is."

Before you could respond, he turned on his heel, heading out with a laugh that lingered in the air long after he was gone. You stood there, breathless, wondering how the hell he always managed to get under your skin—and why a part of you liked it so much.

Your drummer nudged you, pulling you back to reality. "So… what’s the plan now?"

You smirked, grabbing your microphone, your adrenaline surging. “The plan?” you said. “We give them a show they’ll never forget.”

As you took the stage, you saw him standing off to the side, watching you with that infuriating grin. The crowd was roaring, the lights were blinding, and somewhere in the midst of it all, you felt the spark ignite again.

This was far from over.

The roar of the crowd vibrated through the stage as you stepped up to the microphone, eyes scanning the sea of faces. And there he was, off to the side, arms crossed and a smirk plastered across his face. Ryomen Sukuna was waiting—waiting to see what you’d do, how you’d respond to his taunts, his challenges. The rivalry had become a game, but one neither of you were willing to lose.

You leaned into the mic, letting the energy of the moment wash over you. "How’s everyone doing tonight?" you shouted, and the crowd erupted in cheers, the noise almost deafening. "You know, I wasn’t sure if we should even bother showing up after that last set."

You paused, letting the words sink in, and a wave of laughter and excited murmurs rippled through the audience. Your guitarist strummed a sharp chord, and the band jumped in with the opening notes of your new track—the one that had set the internet ablaze.

The fans knew the first lines by heart, screaming them back at you with an energy that could only come from shared devotion. You caught Sukuna’s eye, feeling that familiar thrill at the challenge that lay in his gaze.

Halfway through the set, you decided to escalate things. You turned back to the mic, catching your breath. "You know, guys…." you began. “There’s been a lot of talk lately… about who's really on top in this scene."

The crowd cheered louder, sensing where you were going. "Some people think it’s that guy over there." You pointed in Sukuna’s direction, and the audience erupted into a mix of boos and cheers. “Hey pink head.”

Sukuna, ever the showman, gave an exaggerated bow, playing to the crowd’s reaction, which only made them more riled up.

“But I think we all know, everyone.” you continued, leaning forward with a grin. “That the real reason people are here tonight… is to see which one of us cracks first. So, what do you say, Sukuna?” You called out, your voice carrying over the noise. “Why don’t you come up here and face me?”

A ripple of excitement and disbelief swept through the crowd. Ryomen Sukuna’s smile grew wider, and without missing a beat, he moved toward the stage, his entourage trailing behind. He jumped up onto the platform, grabbing a mic from one of the stagehands, his eyes never leaving yours.

"You really wanna do this, baby doll?" he taunted, his voice low and teasing. "Because I don’t think your fans can handle what I’ve got in store."

You stepped closer, the tension thick between you, the audience practically buzzing with anticipation. “Oh, I think they can handle a lot more than you can, Sukuna.”

He laughed, a deep, resonant sound that seemed to echo off the stage walls. “Alright then, let’s give them a show.” He turned to the crowd. "How about a little live battle, right here, right now? Let’s see who’s really got the chops."

The crowd went wild, chanting both your name and his, the noise rising to a fever pitch. Your bandmates looked at you, uncertain but excited. You gave them a nod—it was on. You faced off with Sukuna, mics in hand, the beat dropping low and steady, building tension. The music swelled, and Sukuna started first, his voice cutting through the air like a blade.

“You think you’re on top, but you’re just a phase,

A flicker, a flame that’ll soon be erased.

I’m the storm, the fire, the one they all fear,

And when this is over, you’ll wish you weren’t here.”

The crowd erupted, and you could see the challenge in his eyes, daring you to match his intensity. He continued on, people saying ‘ey’ ‘oh’ and screaming as they echoed their words. You stepped up, not missing a beat as you grinned at him.

“You swagger and boast like you’re king of the stage,

But all that you’ve got is that pathetic, tired old ass rage.

I’m the light, the spark, you’re the one drinking cheap booze.

When I’m done, your crowd’s gonna give you nothin’ but boos.”

The audience was in a frenzy now, torn between the two of you, your words cutting into the night air like knives. Sukuna leaned in closer, his grin still in place, and you could feel the heat radiating off him, the sheer force of his presence. He was electric, enigmatic. He was everything all at once as you looked at him.

“You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that, baby doll.” he murmured, just loud enough for you to hear over the chaos. “But do you really think you can outlast me?”

You smirked, adrenaline coursing through you like a drug. “Guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”

The beat dropped again, faster, harder, and the two of you kept going, each line sharper, each verse more biting than the last. It wasn’t just a performance anymore—it was a test of will, a clash of two forces too strong to coexist but too intrigued to stay apart.

And somewhere in the midst of it all, as the crowd surged and screamed, you realized that maybe, just maybe, you weren’t trying to win this battle. Maybe you were just trying to keep Sukuna’s eyes on you for as long as possible.

══════════════════

YOU DIDN’T WANT TO GO TO PRACTICE TODAY. But you decided that you were going to go anyway. Mainly because your bandmates said they’ll buy you your favorite matcha drink with your favorite croissant today. And you like to be given free stuff, so off you went, dressed in baggy clothes and headed to the studio.

The studio lights were dimmed low, and the energy in the room crackled with excitement. Your bandmates were clustered around, phones in hand, eyes glued to the social media explosion that followed your latest diss track.

They seemed more excited than you. Especially now that you get to perform it live. You sat in the center, drinking your matcha drink with a small, satisfied smile playing on your lips. The track had dropped at midnight, and by morning, it had already become the talk of the town.

The song was everywhere now. Fans and critics were dissecting every line, every beat, comparing it to Sukuna’s latest attempt at a rebuttal. But this time, you’d hit a nerve. You knew that already. Sukuna’s the type to enjoy saying something about anything and everything. Your phone buzzed on the table. You glanced down to see a message from your manager.

"Check his story." it read. “Now.”

You quickly grabbed your phone, pulling up Sukuna’s social media. Sure enough, an Instagram Live was broadcasting in real-time. Ryomen Sukuna lounged on a familiar couch, the blue glow of his phone screen casting a soft light on his face. His expression was a mix of amused disbelief and genuine intrigue, a faint grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Alright, alright, you guys.” Sukuna drawled, glancing at the camera. “I gotta hand it to them—this track is… something. From you-know-who.” He chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound that sent shivers down your spine. “But seriously, 'why you so obsessed with me?' That track is pretty interesting.”

He leaned in closer, his eyes narrowing playfully. “That hook… damn, it’s catchy. I’m almost flattered, really. Almost.” He paused, his grin widening. “You really think I got a Napoleon complex, baby doll? Because last I checked, I was standing pretty tall.”

The comments exploded—hearts, fire emojis, and a flurry of messages from fans of both sides, hurling playful and not-so-playful insults. He knew you would be watching his broadcast. You leaned back in your chair, smirking as you watched him. The song had clearly gotten under his skin, just as you’d intended.

Sukuna’s grin faded slightly as he continued, “But let’s talk about some of those lines. ‘Last man on earth still couldn’t get this’? Ouch. You know that’s not true, baby doll.”

Hesnickers, a mischievous gleam in his scarlet eyes. “Because if I remember correctly… you were the one who couldn’t stop staring at me from across the room just a while ago.”

You felt a flush creep up your cheeks, but you kept your expression neutral. No way you’d give him the satisfaction of knowing how much his words affected you. At least….You shake your head, continuing to drink your matcha drink. Not here, you think. It would be too obvious.

Sukuna leaned back, running a hand through his hair. “But seriously, props to you and your crew. You got everyone talking, and that’s what it’s all about, right?” He winked at the camera. “Now, I guess I’ll just have to come up with something to top it… and I will.”

He ended the Live with a cocky grin, and your phone buzzed again—a new message from your manager. “He’s biting. Good job. This is gonna blow up.”

Your drummer chuckled, “Did you see the way he was trying so hard not to laugh? He’s loving this just as much as we are.”

Your guitarist nodded, absently strumming a few chords. “Oh, he’s definitely going to come back with something. What’s the next move?”

You grinned, leaning forward, fingers tapping rhythmically on your knee. “Next move? We keep pushing. He wants a war, we’ll give him a war.”

Your bassist chimed in, “And if he’s obsessed, we’re gonna make sure he stays that way.”

The room burst into laughter, and you felt a rush of adrenaline. You had Sukuna’s attention, and you weren’t planning on letting go anytime soon. You stood up and put your drink away. “Alright, alright. Time to practice.”

A few hours later, as you were leaving the studio and headed for dinner with your bandmates, your phone buzzed again—a private message from Ryomen Sukuna himself.

“Nice track, baby doll. You got guts. But don’t think for a second this is over.”

You smirked at the screen, your fingers flying over the keyboard as you typed back a quick reply. “Oh, I’m counting on it.”

With that, you hit send, knowing full well that this game of cat and mouse was far from over. The rivalry had taken on a life of its own, and you were ready to see it through to the end.

The days following the Instagram Live were a whirlwind of activity. The media coverage of your feud with Sukuna was relentless, and the buzz around both your diss track and Sukuna's playful response only grew louder. Your fans were eagerly waiting for the next move, while the anticipation among Sukuna's followers was palpable.

Your studio was buzzing with a new energy as your band prepared for the next stage of the rivalry. You were in a brainstorming session with your team, mapping out strategies and refining ideas. The stakes had never been higher, and everyone was determined to capitalize on the momentum.

As you reviewed some rough cuts of new material, your phone once more buzzed with a notification—a direct message from Sukuna on Instagram. You raised an eyebrow. Your curiosity piqued, and opened it to find a short video clip.

The video showed Sukuna lounging in his familiar and stylish, minimalistic apartment, the camera focused on his face. He had a relaxed, almost smug expression, and he started speaking directly to the camera.

“Hey, baby doll.” he began, his voice smooth and confident. “I see you’re still all fired up from our little game. Can’t say I’m surprised. But if you think you’ve got me cornered, you’re in for a surprise.”

He paused, a teasing glint in his eyes. “I’m working on something that’ll blow your track out of the water. Something special, just for you.” He leaned in closer, his tone dropping to a more intimate level. “And I promise, it’s going to make you rethink everything you thought you knew about this competition.”

Sukuna ended the video with a wink, and the message was signed with a flourish: “Yours truly, Sukuna.”

You chuckled, impressed by his confidence and intrigued by his hint. You knew this was only the beginning of a new round in your ongoing rivalry. You showed the video to your bandmates, and they were immediately excited.

“Looks like Sukuna’s not holding back.” your drummer said, leaning over to get a better look. “What’s our move?”

You grinned, feeling the familiar thrill of competition. “We push the envelope even further. If he’s coming at us with something big, we need to be ready to top it. Let’s go all in.”

The team rallied, diving into planning and creative sessions with renewed vigor. Ideas were thrown around, debates sparked, and everyone was charged with the excitement of outdoing Sukuna. Later that evening, as you were reviewing the final mix of your new track, your phone buzzed again.

It was another message from Sukuna, this time with a photo attached. It was a behind-the-scenes shot from his recording studio, showing him with headphones on, a focused expression on his face. The caption read: “Just a little preview of what’s coming your way. Can’t wait to see your reaction 😉”

You couldn’t help but smile. The rivalry was as thrilling as ever, and Sukuna’s antics only made it more engaging. You replied with a playful message: “Bring it on, Sukuna. We’re ready for whatever you’ve got.”

As you finished up for the night, you felt a rush of anticipation. The battle between you and Sukuna had transcended mere competition; it had become an electrifying dance, each of you pushing the other to new heights. And you were more than ready for the next move.

The stage lights cut through the darkness, bathing Sukuna in a dramatic, almost ethereal glow. The crowd roared with anticipation, their excitement palpable as they waited for Sukuna’s next performance. You were in the VIP section, surrounded by your bandmates, eyes fixed on the stage. The rivalry had reached a new peak, and tonight was the next chapter.

Sukuna appeared at the center of the stage, wearing a tailored black suit that accentuated his confident, charismatic presence. His expression was a mix of cocky assurance and playful challenge. He grabbed the microphone with an almost theatrical flair, and the band behind him struck up a powerful, bass-heavy beat.

He began to sing, his voice dripping with both charm and defiance. The lyrics were a direct response to your latest track, each line crafted to counter your words with his own brand of swagger and wit.

“You think you’re clever with your little diss track, babe,

But let me show you what I’ve got—watch me take it back.

You throw punches in the dark, but I’m the light that blinds,

Every move you make, every line you drop, I’m right behind.”

The crowd cheered, their energy feeding into Sukuna’s performance. His voice was smooth and commanding, each note perfectly delivered with an edge of playful arrogance. As the chorus hit, Sukuna took a moment to address the audience directly. He flashed a grin and winked in your direction, his eyes locking with yours for a brief, charged moment.

“And you think you know me? Think you’ve got my number?

Watch me turn this game around, and watch you slumber.

I’m the king of this stage, and you’re just a player,

So step aside, baby doll, it’s time for a new layer.

Call me up, call me late, rumble some date.

Come on, be obsessed with me, get home late.”

The wink was truly unmistakable—a flirtatious, provocative gesture that carried both a challenge and a promise. You bit your lower lip. It was clear that Ryomen Sukuna wasn’t just participating in this rivalry; he was fully immersed in it, relishing every moment and using it to his advantage.

Just as much, you also couldn’t help but be impressed, despite the competitive edge. The rest of his performance was electrifying, and Sukuna’s ability to blend his charm with his musical prowess only heightened the tension and excitement of your ongoing feud.

As the song ended, Sukuna raised his arms in victory, soaking in the applause and cheers of his fans. He glanced over at you again, a mischievous smirk playing on his lips. The crowd’s energy was palpable as they chanted Sukuna’s name, and you could feel the shift in the air—an unspoken understanding that this battle was far from over.

You turned to your bandmates, a determined gleam in your eyes. “He’s got moves, no doubt about it. But we’ve got our own plans. Let’s give him something he won’t forget.”

══════════════════

YOU AGREED TO MEET UP IN HIS STUDIO. After all, you had a key to his studio. One of only two people, besides his manager. The echo of the door clicking shut behind you was the only sound in the dimly lit room. The minute you stepped inside, a familiar hand grabbed your waist, spinning you around with a rough but playful urgency. You couldn’t help but feel adrenaline rush through you.

You looked up to see Ryomen Sukuna’s smirk inches from your face, his eyes dancing with mischief. You couldn’t help but bite your lips as he lets his attention stuck on you for a little while longer. He’d just gotten here after a long schedule today, that you knew. But he just couldn’t pass up this moment. He missed you, after all.

“You’ve really done it now, baby doll.” he murmured, his voice low and teasing. "That track? You know it’s all anyone is talking about. Got my fans in a frenzy, and I can't say I'm not impressed."

You laughed, slipping your arms around his neck. “Wasn’t that the plan?” you whispered back, feeling his grip tighten possessively around your waist. “To keep everyone on their toes? To keep you on your toes?”

Sukuna’s smirk softened into something a little darker, a little more heated. “Oh, you’ve got me on my toes alright, baby doll.” he replied, leaning down to brush his lips against your ear. “You’re playing a dangerous game, you know that?”

You shivered at the feel of his breath against your skin, but you didn’t back down. “And you love every second of it, darling.” you shot back, daring him with your eyes. “Admit it, Sukuna. You like it when I push your buttons.”

He chuckled, a low, deep sound that sent a thrill through you. “Maybe I do, baby doll.” he admitted, nipping playfully at your earlobe. “Maybe I love watching you act all tough out there, throwing shade at me like you mean it. Gets my blood pumping.”

You tilted your head back, grinning up at him. “You think you’re the only one who gets a thrill out of this? Watching you strut around on stage, pretending you’re so unaffected…” You traced a finger along his jawline, feeling the tension coiled beneath his skin. “I know better. I see how you watch me.”

Sukuna’s eyes darkened, his grip tightening. “Oh, you’ve got no idea what I think when I’m up there, you know.” he growled, his lips brushing against yours, the air between you charged with electricity. “No idea how much I want to drag you off that stage and—”

You cut him off with a kiss, fierce and demanding, pouring every bit of the adrenaline still buzzing through your veins into the press of your lips against his. He responded instantly, kissing you back with a hunger that made your knees weak, his hands sliding up your back, pulling you closer, until there was no space left between your bodies.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathless, panting slightly, foreheads resting against each other. “I knew you’d enjoy it, our little roleplay.” you whispered, your lips brushing his with every word. “I knew you’d love playing this game.”

Sukuna laughed softly, his hand coming up to cup your cheek. “Oh, it’s more than just a game, baby doll.” he murmured. “It’s our foreplay.” He grinned wickedly, his thumb tracing the curve of your bottom lip. “Every line, every taunt, every verse… just getting me more worked up for moments like this.”

Your heart pounded in your chest as you leaned into his touch, your smile matching his. “So… what’s next?” you asked, teasingly. “Another diss track? Or are we moving on to something a little more… physical?”

He chuckled again, his lips brushing yours in the faintest of kisses. “Both, baby doll.” he whispered. “Always both. I’ll keep you on your toes, and you keep me guessing. That’s how this works, right?”

You nodded, feeling the thrill of his words spark through you. “You already know it well, darling.” you grinned at him, pulling him closer for another kiss, deeper this time, more intense.

Because behind all the public drama, the mock insults, the fan wars and the staged battles, there was something real—a chemistry, a connection, that neither of you could resist. No one else knows, and they didn’t have to. Because that’s what makes it fun, that’s what gets you hot, high for him.

This elaborate game of rivals was just another way for you and Sukuna to both express that pull, that irresistible need to keep challenging each other, to keep pushing each other’s buttons in every way possible. And you knew, as he did, that you wouldn’t have it any other way.

As Sukuna’s lips moved against yours, his kiss deepening with a fervent intensity, you felt the world around you blur into a haze of desire and adrenaline. His hands roamed possessively over your body, each touch a reminder of the raw, unfiltered connection that existed between you.

The heat of his skin, the firm grip of his hands, and the way he pressed you closer only heightened the sensation that this was more than just a physical encounter—it was an embodiment of the fierce rivalry and undeniable attraction that had been building between you two.

The way his fingers traced your curves, his touch both commanding and tender, spoke volumes. It was as if he was claiming you, not just in the heat of the moment but in a way that was deeply intertwined with the ongoing battle of wits and passion you both were engaged in. The contrast between his rough, assertive touch and the gentle caresses created a whirlwind of emotions, each sensation adding to the already charged atmosphere.

As you pull back slightly, your breaths mingling, Sukuna’s gaze locked onto yours, his eyes dark with a mix of satisfaction and challenge. His smirk, still present, held a promise of more to come—more battles, more games, and an unspoken agreement that this was only the beginning of an exhilarating journey. For a moment, you think you fell in love deeper with him again.

The gradual approach of his fingertips was a slow, tantalizing tease, each moment stretched out with the deliberate pace of someone who knew exactly how to build anticipation. You could feel the heat from his touch even before his fingers made full contact, the mere thought of what was to come causing your breath to hitch and your body to respond eagerly.

As his fingers inched closer, their warmth and the promise of what lay ahead created a growing sense of urgency and need. The gentle caress of his fingertips, as they brushed against your inner thighs, was both intimate and assertive, a clear indication of his intent. The friction was electric, a stark contrast to the cool air around you, amplifying every sensation as his touch grew more purposeful.

You could feel his breath against your skin, each exhale sending shivers down your spine. His eyes, locked onto yours with an intense focus, conveyed both a challenge and a deep-seated desire. The way he watched you, his gaze dark and smoldering, only added to the overwhelming allure of the moment.

His fingers finally made contact with your womanhood, the touch both delicate and firm, exploring with a confident familiarity. The sensation was overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and anticipation as his fingers began to move in slow, deliberate circles, teasing and testing. Each stroke was designed to elicit a response, to push you further into a state of heightened arousal.

A satisfied smirk curled on Sukuna’s lips, his eyes glinting with a dangerous mix of pride and desire. “You know it don’t you, hm?” he growled, his voice rough with arousal. “No one else can touch you like this, no one else can make you feel what I do.”

His words were a taunt and a promise, each thrust a reminder of the exclusive, raw connection between you. “You need this, don’t you?” he continued, his voice low and seductive. “You need me to push you, to make you feel every inch of me.”

Your breath hitched, your hands gripping his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as a moan slipped from your lips. He was relentless, and he knew it, his movements intentional and powerful, his gaze never leaving yours.

“Admit it, baby doll.” Sukuna demanded, his voice a husky whisper against your ear. “Admit that no one else can make you feel this way.”

You bit back a moan, your head tilting back as you fought for control, but the way he looked at you, the way he moved against you—it was overwhelming, intoxicating. “You… you’re so full of yourself, darling.” you managed to gasp, though the quiver in your voice betrayed how much he was getting to you.

Sukuna chuckled darkly, his breath hot against your skin. “Maybe.” he murmured, his lips grazing your neck, his teeth nipping at your pulse. “But you like that about me, don’t you? You like the way I take control… the way I make you lose yourself.”

As Sukuna’s breath grew heavier, mingling with yours, he leaned in closer, the heat of his body was all too much for you. His eyes, locked onto yours, held a smoldering intensity that combined both dominance and a profound passion. The teasing brush of his fingers, so close to your most intimate area, sent shivers down your spine, igniting a fiery need that built with every second.

When you finally released a groan escaping your lips, you held him tightly, your body trembling with the intensity of the moment. Sukuna’s lips curled into a satisfied smirk, his eyes gleaming with a mix of amusement and approval.

“You really get a load of it when it’s good, don’t you?” he teased, his voice low and filled with a playful edge. His tone was both confident and affectionate, the snicker that followed underscoring the satisfaction he felt in having pushed you to such a heightened state.

Sukuna’s words hung in the air, a provocative mix of satisfaction and challenge. His fingers continued their gentle, lingering caress, prolonging the aftershocks of your release. The smirk on his face was unmistakable—a blend of triumph and deep-seated affection that he only reserved for moments like these.

“You know, baby doll..." he said, his voice softening to a more intimate tone. “it’s not just about getting a reaction. It’s about knowing how much you need this—how much you crave every bit of it.” His hand moved with deliberate, gentle strokes, still teasing, ensuring that the aftermath was as intense as the build-up.

You looked up at him, breathless and flushed, meeting his gaze with a mix of desire and exhaustion. The connection between you two felt palpable, a mix of competition and passion that seemed to define every interaction.

“Is that so?” you managed to reply, your voice hoarse but laced with playful defiance. “And what makes you think you’re the only one who can bring me to that edge?”

Sukuna’s eyes sparkled with mischief, his lips curving into an even broader smile. “Oh, I don’t think I’m the only one. But I do like to think that I’m the best at it. There’s something about our… little games that just makes everything so much more exhilarating.”

He pulled you closer, his breath warm against your ear. “And you love it. Every second of it. The highs, the lows, the rivalry... it’s all part of the thrill.”

You shivered at his words, the heat of his body and the intimacy of the moment amplifying the connection between you. His touch was a constant reminder of the dynamic between you two—a blend of passion, competition, and mutual desire that made every encounter both electrifying and deeply personal.

As the intensity of the moment began to wane, Sukuna’s touch softened, and he held you close, his hand resting possessively on your lower back. The playful glint in his eyes remained, but there was also a deeper sense of satisfaction, as if the night had cemented something unspoken between you two.

“I guess we’ll just have to keep this up, you know?” he murmured, his voice low and teasing. “I wouldn’t want to disappoint you.”

He starts to emphasize his words, his voice low and commanding, as he enters you with a slow, deliberate thrust that sends a shudder through your entire body. Each movement is precise, calculated, as if he wants to draw out every sensation, making sure you feel the intensity of him.

Your grip on his shoulders tightens reflexively, your nails scraping against his skin, leaving faint trails in their wake. The contact seems to please him, a low, almost primal growl escaping from his throat, vibrating through his chest and into yours.

The warmth between you both intensifies, the heat of the moment engulfing you. It’s stifling, but you crave more of it, each moment more consuming than the last. Your mind, once racing with scattered thoughts, is now empty, surrendered entirely to the sensations overwhelming you.

Every nerve is alive, tuned to the rhythm of his body against yours. As Sukuna pushes deeper, your world narrows to the singular, undeniable reality of him filling you completely. It’s overwhelming, exhilarating, and you’re lost in the sheer intensity of it. All that exists is him, inside you, and the way your body responds to every movement he makes.

“Say it, baby doll.” he insisted, his hand moving to tangle in your hair, tugging just enough to send a sharp thrill through you. “Say you need me.”

Your heart pounded with thunderous applause, and for a moment, you hesitated, the words caught in your throat. But the way he looked at you, his eyes dark with desire and something deeper, pulled the confession from your lips.

“I… I need you, darling.” you breathed, your voice barely a whisper, your body arching against his, craving more. “I need you, Sukuna. All of you.”

A satisfied grin spread across his face, his hold on you tightening as he captured your lips in a fierce, claiming kiss. “That’s right.” he murmured against your mouth, his voice thick with desire. “Only me. Always me.”

And with that, he moved with renewed intensity, each deep thrust and touch a declaration, a challenge, a promise that you were his—and that no one else could ever come close to what the two of you had. He was good, he was good at making you feel like this.

His lips were everywhere—on your neck, your shoulders, down the curve of your spine—each kiss a mark, a reminder that this, whatever it was between you, was uniquely yours. Every gasp, every moan he drew from you only seemed to fuel him more, his movements becoming more fervent, more determined to prove his point.

And you couldn’t help but revel in it—the way he knew your body, the way he knew exactly how to drive you to the edge and pull you back, just to see the need in your eyes grow stronger.

“You love it, don’t you?” he whispered, his voice a low rumble in your ear. “You love the way I make you feel… the way I take you apart and put you back together again.”

You could only nod, lost in the rhythm of his movements, the intensity of his gaze, the heat that built between you. Because he was right—there was something about the way he touched you, the way he pushed you, that no one else could ever replicate. And in that moment, with his hands on your skin and his voice in your ear, you knew that you were exactly where you wanted to be.

He continued with a deliberate rhythm, his movements precise and relentless. You could feel the intensity building, every touch and motion sending waves of sensation coursing through you. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, a mix of pleasure and the sheer force of his actions. He always knew how to push you to the edge, how to test your limits, and tonight was no different.

Each thrust was a carefully measured challenge, a dance of dominance and submission that left you breathless, gasping for air yet craving more. The friction between you was electric, sparking and crackling like a live wire, building with every moment until you felt like you might burst from the sheer pressure of it.

Sukuna’s eyes never left yours, a dark, consuming gaze that seemed to see right through you, drinking in every reaction, every gasp and shiver. “You feel that?” he growled, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through you. “That’s what happens when you get me riled up and excited, baby doll.”

You could only nod, your voice caught in your throat, your body trembling under his touch. He was relentless, every motion a reminder of his strength, his intensity, and the unique connection that bound you together. It was overwhelming, all-consuming, the kind of sensation that left you dizzy and reeling, your heart pounding in your chest.

But beneath the raw physicality, there was something more—a deep, unspoken understanding, a bond that neither of you could deny. His touch wasn’t just about possession or power; it was about claiming you in a way that no one else ever could. And in his eyes, you could see the same need reflected back at you, a hunger that matched your own.

“Tell me, baby doll.” he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear, his breath hot on your skin. “Tell me you feel it too.”

“I feel it, darling.” you whispered, your voice breaking with the intensity of the moment, your hands gripping his arms as if anchoring yourself to him. “I always feel it… with you.”

A satisfied smile tugged at the corners of his lips, his gaze softening for just a moment, a flicker of something almost tender beneath the heat. “Good, good…” he said softly. “Because I’m not letting you go. Not now… not ever.”

And with those words, he moved with renewed determination, his hands tightening on your hips, his body pressing closer, as if trying to fuse the two of you together. The rhythm between you became more frantic, more desperate, as if neither of you could get enough, as if the very air between you was charged with the electricity of everything left unsaid.

The world around you faded, until there was nothing but him—his touch, his voice, his breath against your skin. And in that moment, you knew that whatever games you played in public, whatever battles you waged on stage, nothing could compare to this. To the way he made you feel, to the way he looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered.

And as the pleasure built to a fever pitch, you surrendered to the sensation, letting it take you over completely, knowing that with Sukuna, you would always find yourself right back where you belonged—in his arms, in his gaze, lost in the heat of this dangerous, undeniable connection.

Your bodies moved in perfect synchrony, a rhythm known only to the two of you. Sukuna’s grip tightened, fingers digging into your skin just enough to remind you of his presence, his power. His breath was hot against your neck, each word he whispered sending a fresh wave of heat through your veins.

"You're mine. Only mine." he murmured against your ear, his voice thick with conviction. "No one else gets to have this… to have you like this." His words sent a shiver down your spine, the possessiveness in his tone both thrilling and comforting in its intensity.

He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his own dark desire and something deeper—something that made your heart clench in your chest. "You think anyone else could handle you?" he taunted, a sly grin spreading across his lips. "Handle us?"

You couldn’t help but smile back, despite the breathless state he had you in. "N–no one." you managed to reply, your voice a whisper, yet full of certainty. "No one else would even come close. Only you.”

His grin widened at your words, his eyes lighting up with that familiar mix of pride and satisfaction. "Damn right." he said, his lips brushing against yours in a teasing, almost tender gesture before capturing them in a fierce kiss. “Only me.”

When he finally pulled back, you were both breathless, the air between you charged with an intensity that was almost palpable. "We could do this forever, you know," he murmured, his thumb brushing over your cheek, his expression suddenly serious. "Keep pretending, keep pushing each other… but you and I both know the truth."

You looked up at him, your chest tightening at the sincerity in his gaze. "And what's that truth, Sukuna?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He leaned in closer, his lips almost brushing against yours as he spoke. "That no matter what happens on stage, no matter what anyone else thinks… this is real. What we have… it’s real."

For a moment, all the bravado, all the games, all the theatrics fell away, and it was just the two of you, standing at the edge of something deeper, something more profound. You felt a warmth spread through your chest, a sense of rightness settling in your bones. "Yeah, of course." you whispered back, your hand finding its way to the back of his neck, pulling him closer. "It’s real."

And as his lips met yours again, this time slower, more deliberate, you knew that whatever this was—rivalry, love, obsession—it was something you wouldn't trade for anything in the world. Because with Sukuna, every line blurred, every touch sparked, and every word spoken between you felt like the beginning of a song only the two of you knew the lyrics to.

A song that, no matter how many verses you added, would never truly end.

══════════════════

epilogue

The social media buzz had been relentless since the rivalry between you and Sukuna had begun. Fans and media alike were glued to every update, eagerly dissecting every new development in your ongoing feud. It was a carefully crafted spectacle, each move calculated for maximum impact. But what came next was entirely unexpected.

Sukuna was known for his bold, often controversial social media presence, but this latest post took things to a whole new level.

The photo he shared was striking and intimate—a mirror selfie in which Sukuna stood with his back to the camera, his muscular body on full display. In front of him, you were barely visible, your form concealed mostly by his arm, his body strategically positioned to cover you. The image was provocative, suggesting an intimacy that had never been publicly acknowledged before.

The caption, simple yet loaded, read: “My baby doll likes excitement.”

The post exploded across the internet. Fans, already used to the charged tension between you two, were stunned into silence before erupting into a frenzy of speculation and excitement. The comments section was a whirlwind of reactions, from shock to adoration, as people tried to make sense of this unexpected revelation.

At first, there was a stunned silence from your side. You were sitting in your living room, scrolling through your feed, when you saw the post. Your heart skipped a beat as you took in the image and the caption. The boldness of it was both thrilling and nerve-wracking.

Minutes later, your phone buzzed with notifications. Your own social media accounts were flooded with messages, your fans reaching out with a mix of curiosity and support. Some were confused, others were jubilant, but everyone was talking about it.

You decided it was time to respond, and you crafted a post that acknowledged the new development without backing down from the playful rivalry. You shared a photo from one of your concerts, the stage lights casting a dramatic glow.

Your hands were littering towards his naked chest while you were dressed on your stage outfit. He came to visit you and well....had fun in your waiting room. You added a caption: “Guess Sukuna’s not the only one who likes a little excitement. See you on stage, my darling.”

Sukuna’s reaction was swift and equally bold. He replied to your post with a comment: “Looking forward to it. Let’s see who can keep the audience more entertained.”

The exchange between you two set the internet alight. The combination of intimacy and competition only fueled the frenzy, turning your personal revelation into the hottest topic of the moment.

Behind the scenes, the two of you found solace in the chaos, a private celebration of your bold move. When you next met, the atmosphere was charged with a new kind of excitement.

Sukuna greeted you with a grin that spoke volumes. “Well, that certainly stirred things up, hm?” he said, pulling you into a fierce hug.

You laughed, your heart racing with the thrill of it all. “You’ve got that right.” you replied, looking up at him with a smile. “But you know what? I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

His eyes sparkled with mischief as he leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear. “Ready for the next round?”

You looked into his eyes, a mix of challenge and affection in your gaze. “Always.” you whispered back. And with that, you both knew that whatever came next, it would be just as exhilarating and unpredictable as the ride you were already on.

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ozzgin · 10 months ago

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Hello.

Do you think I can request headcanons for Nakamaro ?

Like in an alternate route, reader and him (he's in his twenties because... magic ?) are married and reader is pregnant.

But the funny thing is, Nakamaro can't bully the yokais because reader will exorcise him each time he tries.

Aaaaah I finished writing and only afterwards it occurred to me you might've wanted a modern day reader for this. 😭 I imagined the events in his own timeline. Oh well. I think it can work both ways. Just replace the ancient pouch with, I don't know, a visa card that he throws at your parents for wife payment.

Yandere! Onmyōji x Reader

Yokai Harem AU as the wife of Abe no Nakamaro, a legendary sorcerer and collector of yokai. Although you're not quite as powerless as to not keep his cruelty under control.

Content: female reader, arranged marriage, mentions of pregnancy

[Main Story] [Character Guide]

Your family had vehemently opposed the marriage. To think their one and only daughter would fall into the hands of such a cruel man. The famous Abe no Nakamaro, descendant of Abe no Seimei himself, has quite a contradicting reputation. He has saved many lives, cured countless illnesses, protected villages from monsters and brought peace to the land. Yet many have also witnessed his ruthless nature: the arrogance he has towards humans, the disdain and utter disgust he harbors towards demons. He is quick to punish, rarely forgives, and never forgets. The yokai he’s captured under a binding contract are kept on a leash, like cattle before slaughter.

It is this man who approached your parents one day, when you were still young, demanding your hand. He claimed you had special powers and a lot of potential under the right guidance. Such spiritual prowess would waste away in a family of plebeians. You don’t remember much of the discussion, only the expressions: the man’s mocking grin as he threw a pouch fattened with coins, the frown of your parents who wanted to refuse, the uneasy, grim eyes of the horned demons brought to intimidate. It was clear they were there against their will. One will find just how difficult it is to go against the wishes of the onmyōji, and you happened to be his most ardent desire. Thus, with a heavy heart, you’d been sent away with the stranger who promised you were to live a life of luxury. One your parents could never afford.

True to his word, you have not struggled since. In Akutagawa’s short masterpiece, Hell Screen, artist Yoshihide is wicked and vicious towards everything and everyone except his beloved daughter. Similarly, the sorcerer seems to have a soft spot for you in particular. He often praises your talent, and patiently caters to your whims without complaint. You once inquired about it yourself, as the idea weighed heavily on your mind: why is it that he does not show the same hostility towards you? He stared at you as if you just grew two more heads. "You're my wife. What else is there to question?"

This favoritism, however, is to the benefit of everyone. Especially to the yokai under his command. You've grown rather fond of the demons in your years spent alongside them, and they've quickly learned that your presence means safety from any punishment. Some need reassurance more than others. To these you've even begun to feel like a motherly figure, shielding them from the wrath of an unforgiving master. At last, an authority even Abe no Nakamaro himself can't disobey: the word of his wife.

And soon enough, as if your marriage wasn't already the ultimate argument, you welcome the return of your husband with the news he's always longed for: you are the soon-to-be mother of his child. His name has just been guaranteed to continue its course through time. To say he is elated is an understatement. You've only seen him smile so genuinely once before in your life, on your wedding day.

"Can you imagine the powers this child will command?" He muses, referring most likely to the fact you've both been blessed with an innate, unmatched talent in onmyōdō. You finish rolling the parchment paper and gently tap his head with the scroll in a scolding manner. "You better not burden the kid with your bizarre expectations!" The same man feared throughout the country is chuckling apologetically at your gesture. "As the Mother says."

#yandere #yandere yokai harem #yokai harem #yandere onmyoji #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #yandere x you #yandere male #yandere headcanons #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere oc x reader #yandere oc #female reader

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naffeclipse · 6 days ago

Text

Apologies

Druid!Reader x Nymph!Sun, Mountain Troll!Moon, & River Spirit!Eclipse

Commission Info

The darling @bluemoon1331 requested their AU called Connotations with a female Nymph Sun, a nonbinary Mountain Troll Moon, and a male River Spirit Eclipse! I loved diving into this AU and exploring the characters within. Enjoy some mythical creature shenanigans as they fight over and sit awhile with their lovely druid reader.

———

The morning is warm. Paired with a dewey brightness that dusts the grass and trails you hike from your home down towards the river, you begin to work up a slight sweat in the brilliance of a new day. A sweetness hangs in the air, speaking to the brightly colored life blooming upon hills and meadows. Pollen carries between insects. Trees hang heavy with boughs adorned in rich velvet leaves. Their shade is a blissful balm to the sheer heat of direct sunlight.

Your robes drape lightly, a casual attire to help keep you cool in the summer sun. A rare day where your duties as the druid of the forest and Notus, the local village, allow you to slip out of your formal attire. This day has been expected for some time now. A time not just to be a druid but to be with those you love.

You’ve kept your sweethearts waiting—much to their impatience, tempers, and understanding.

The shade of trees begin to wane, falling back to their place in the forest as the river wedges into a clearing. Distantly, the great rumblings of a waterfall begin to rise. The path your feet follow is becoming as familiar as the back of your hand.

The river spirit was once mysterious and eremitic. Though many within the ecosystem do not choose to often leave their abodes to mingle with other creatures of the forest and land, such as the fae, sprites, cryptids, and nymphs, they all play an important role in keeping the balance of nature.

Eclipse is one of them. Rarely does he entertain others, though he has learned a tolerance for your other suitors, mostly due to circumstances and that you are quite unable to shake any one of them.

Not that you reject their affections. You are simply growing used to the presence of paramours when you were so content with a life of upholding your responsibilities and returning home to your empty bed with an aching, lonely heart.

Following the river bank with its churning water, you venture towards a great pool gathering at the head of the river. Slick and silver rocks make up the edges of the frothy basin. The liquid darkens in its head-spinning depth with the relentless pounding of the waterfall providing a rich supply of mist.

Your heated skin longs for the cool kiss of the river’s touch. And perhaps, a caress from the river spirit himself. He did promise you a swim, though that may be a wicked fate in and of itself.

Your heart hopes for mercy from the watery being but it is a faltering thing.

As you stop at the edge of the lapping surface, a towering figure emerges from the water and catches your startled eye. A thunderous splatter akin to the waterfall rolls off of the creature’s body as it crawls onto the rock you stand upon. Dark mud provides a sleek but solid body. A tail with a tuft of moss on the end, not unlike a lion’s, flicks beads of water. A face looms over you. You meet the burning orange eyes upon a strong face. A mane of driftwood and burnt umber algae surrounds the river spirit’s head. Drop after drop continues from his body as a maw of bone white teeth split into a grin with mirth and trickery.

“You kept me waiting,” the creature rumbles with the low drawl of crashing waters. “Teasing vixen, I thought I might perhaps have to pay your cottage a visit to ensure you’d keep your date with me.”

You meet his gaze, unflinching. A light threat that would not do well to the walls of your home. A flood is the last thing you need to endure. Besides, he wouldn’t only do such a thing if you truly kept him waiting.

“I’m not late, Eclipse,” you reach up to begin to slip off your robe. “Be nice.”

The impish gleam in his vivid orange eyes causes you to stop.

“I have waited long enough, little crow.”

The threat of his tricks brushes against you like the fine mist of the waterfall. Before you can warn the river spirit away, he takes hold of your shoulders, massive hands engulfing you in his grasp.

“Eclipse—AH!” In one massive plunge, he drags you under, robes and all. The water quickly swirls to engulf you. The crisp and cool sensation quickly calms any fierce hatred you may have, but that does not take away the slight fright of an unexpected dive.

Bubbles twist mercilessly around you. The fabric of your robes soak and grow heavy, but you may as well be a small stone smoothed by the constant rush of the river in Eclipse’s palm as he swims you underneath the heart of the waterfall and towards the calmer waters tucked behind.

Lifting you out of the pool, Eclipse bears a mischievous grin. You sputter water and offer him a none-too-pleased glare. Set upon a smooth and slick rock, you sit with a wet and heavy splat as your robes hit the solid fountain. Eclipse taps his claws in a wave along the stone.

Great.

“You’re soaking wet, little crow. Here, allow me to help you.” The river spirit leans closer against you. With ease that betrays his immortal nature, he slips your outer robes off of you and leaves you in your white and soaking wet undergarments—the only articles of clothing that were supposed to get into the water today.

With a deft lob, he throws the clothes outside of the alcove. You watch your robes hit with a heavy, liquidy thunk and sprawl out in the sun.

“Eclipse,” you give firmly. “Do you know how long it will take for my robes to dry?”

“Long enough for you to stay here, with me,” he simpers. “Come, let us swim.”

You cross your arms. Arching an eyebrow, you look up and down at his eager person. The algae around his head glistens with a shine and his orange eyes burn with want. His touch slips over your thigh while he awaits, almost desperate.

“Little crow,” he hums, “You can’t hold your anger against me. It is me who suffers day after day without you.”

You scoff. “I was with you yesterday afternoon.”

“Yes, and it is a long, dreary time to go without seeing your beautiful face.” His bone-white claw draws along your jawline. He tilts your head up slightly, softly holding your gaze until you feel a rush of heat fill your cheeks.

“You poor thing,” you murmur, ducking your head slightly to hide your foolish blushing.

Before he can continue to beg you for forgiveness, you tilt away from him, and slipping into the softly rippling pool, sheltered by the curtain of falling water, you begin stroking through the surprising depths. Eclipse darts after you with ease. His side slides alongside yours, his form graceful and undulating.

He passes you by, circling like a shark eager for a meal, but his grin is pleased. You shake your head and twist to float on your back. Swimming has never been an issue for you, but Eclipse has tutted his tongue in the past and proclaim your form weak and sloppy then proceed to support you in the water to keep you from “drowning.” Though, maybe he just likes to hear your protests. You suspect so, regardless.

Still, when he sweeps past you, your eyes fall to the sleek and dark form of his tail. Maroon red moss democrats the tip. The movement reminds you of a water snake sneaking along the surface. Slowing slightly in your swim, you watch him twist back with a small splash.

“Enjoying the view, sly vixen?” he rumbles low.

You hold your ground, well, water, treading it lightly while holding your chin high.

“I am,” you say.

Eclipse blinks. You’re not certain if it’s due to your own boldness or because he simply didn’t expect such an answer to his question.

“Then it would seem it’s my time to do the admiring,” he drawls slow.

You eye him warily.

He swims back to you in an effortless, breathless speed, and scoops you up. Your arms fall over his shoulder. To your amazement, this grants you a better vantage point of the sleekness of his back and the touch of his burnt umber mane. His paws push through the pool to bring you to a low, stony shelf. There, he sets you upon it. You breathe out softly at the cold and silky sensation of finding cooling down after a hot morning.

Eclipse’s touch slides down to your leg. Your flesh prickles at the graze of his claws, but smoothly, he lifts your foot slightly, and begins studying the shape of your ankles, your feet. His touch draws over the rough but healed burn marks. You stare down, idly wringing your hands together.

“It doesn’t hurt,” you say, “Your hot spring healed me well.”

“I know.” Eclipse flicks his gaze up to you. “You are lucky, druid, that we found you when we did.”

You offer a noncommittal nose. He lowers your foot and bows down to kiss your knee. A fluttering works through your middle at the tenderness, slick with water, caressing your leg. His hand cups your calf and holds you in place until you feel as if you might melt away into the river.

A green tendril streaks into your vision. You lift your head, startled. What you now register as a vine writhes into the alcove, twisting until it has curled around your middle. One sharp yank, and it rips you out of the river spirit’s reach. Eclipse roars, his kiss upon your leg interrupted.

The world becomes a blur of water and stone, then open blue sky and green grass as the vine snaps you towards a standing figure, waiting as gentle as a sapling in spring. You stop your struggle the moment warm and smooth arms wrap around you. The vine releases your middle. The rich scent of wisteria washes over you, and immediately, you wonder how Sunny found you.

She stands tall, taller than she often does—but as tall as she can be when she’s rather fraught with emotion. She tucks you against her chest and hugs your sopping wet person tightly, much to your bewilderment.

“Oh my goodness! Oh, sweetie! I’m so glad you’re alright! I was so worried,” Sunny gushes. You finally tilt your head up to study the beautiful crown of branches around her head. The fronds upon them are not her usual golden color but an intense red hue. Her canary wood like skin is smooth and soft, while her wide eyes, pale as the sky at noon, frantically fall over you.

“Sunny?” you ask, slightly muffled. Gently, you pry yourself off of her, but stay within her reach.

“Sweetheart, I feared the worst! The grass spoke of your robes upon the ground—and they were wet!” Her head shakes slightly in her exclamation. The leaves surrounding her face wave and snap. “I could only assume some wicked, horrid monster must have dragged you under the water!”

You hardly believe for a moment that Sunny was aghast with the thought of your life being in danger. There is no doubt, however, that she is not excited to find you at Eclipse’s river, wet robes discarded to the side.

The very image makes you flush a deep red.

Eclipse sweeps out from behind his waterfall and sends a wave crashing against the edge of the pool. His tail snaps furious flicks of water. He bares his teeth, the fangs pale and sharp as shark teeth. The river spirit furiously climbs up the edge of the basin, close to where Sunny holds you. A hot glare from the meadow nymph punctures her early sentiment.

The water behind Eclipse sets to a churn at a far more violent pace. The grass beneath your feet starts to twist and twine, almost wrapping around your ankles as if to root you in place. Sunny’s unsheathed claws hold tight to your shoulders, one sliding slightly behind your neck. Her heated stare does little to help the boiling tension beginning to spill over.

“Give back my druid,” Eclipse snarls, “I had them first.”

The beautiful nymph turns your attention back to you, ignoring the river spirit as she draws out a blossom from her own crowded frond. The flower is bright yellow and sweet smelling. Her fingertips, careful despite the sharp ends, tuck the flower behind your ear. She studies your visage with the air of one finding a horizon most lovely. You heat up inwardly under such an adoring gaze. Her smile rivals that of her namesake.

“Beautiful.” Her eyes betray her as she glances one over your shoulder before she gently strokes the nape of your neck with her claws. A shiver rushes down your spine. “Sweetness, I can’t imagine why you would be spending so much time with him.”

Oh, this again. You sigh deeply before reaching up to lift one of her hands away from your shoulder. You gently cradle her dainty fingers.

“Sunny, I spent all evening yesterday with you.” Your gentle reminder is punctuated with a growl from behind you. “And you are well aware that I spend time with Eclipse.”

“You spent all evening with her?” Eclipse snaps his tail. A roiling begins as you turn back slightly to look at him and possibly stop this storm before it begins, but it’s already too late. Sunny tightens her grip on you. Water begins to froth and splash harder against the edge of the pool.

You lift one hand up to pacify him.

“Eclipse, you know—AH—”

The whip-like snare of his tail takes hold of your ankle, and in one motion, rips you back to the water side. In the same instance, Sunny’s grip becomes a vine holding tight to your wrist.

“Release them!” Eclipse thunders, halfway back into the water, tugging on you viciously with his tail while you scramble for balance.

“Brute, unhand them! You’re going to break them,” Sunny’s musical voice becomes a vicious chord of vengeance.

“ENOUGH!” you cry out. “LET GO!”

Both forces of nature fall silent. In equal measure, slow but steady, Eclipse’s tail unwinds from your ankle in the same breath that Sunny’s fingers unlatch from your hand. Immediately, you rise to your feet. Wet, flustered, and wholy embarrassed, you serve the nymph and spirit with a searing look. How humiliating to be fought over like children squabbling for a toy.

Do they even care how you feel?

In the beat of silence, Eclipse growls. Sunny answers with a venomous hiss.

“Look at what you’ve done!” Sunny accuses, the grass at her feet growing taller and taller, almost shuddering in her waves of anger.

“You are encroaching on my time with my druid.” Eclipse scrapes his claws against stone. He chuffs.

The snaps and jabs the two throw at each other seems endless; you are beyond done with the entirety of it. You turn wordlessly away and snatch up your wet ball of clothing. As you stomp towards the mountain, blood boiling under your skin, you catch a slight pause in the bickering.

Sunny and Eclipse call your name. You continue onward, furious and trying to stop the slight burn of tears from continuing to smoulder in your eyes.

You offer up your clothing to the dry and cool mountain air.

“Please,” you whisper. Your voice cracks. “Will you dry my clothes?”

An answering brush of a breeze swirls around you. The wind whispers and tugs on your robes, picking them up into the air before twisting and turning the fabric. A great gust rushes over each thread. You watch in raw, emotional silence until the robes lighten, now dried, and float gently back to your arms with a soft zephyr caressing your arms.

“Thank you,” you breathe.

The wind whispers a question, but you shake your head softly, and promise to chat with the wind another day. You must get to the mountain.

The path is well worn with your foot tracks. The rising stones of the cliffs and the sloping ground giving way to tilting trees and patchy foliage begins to cool your bubbling heart.

Sunny and Eclipse have always been at odds with one another. It does not help that Sunny is so quick to temper and jealous to a degree that is scathing. Eclipse, however, is never of any assistance, taunting and incredibly possessive. He doesn’t do well with sharing, but he already agreed to share you with Sunny and Moon. Sunny gave her word to you as well.

The grind of your molars threatens to turn your jaw into powder. It was as if you were only a pretty stone or a lovely new plant, not a person.

Is that all you are? A plaything? A pretty sight to own and grow furious when someone tries to take it away?

You curl your fingers tightly into the dry fabric of your robes. Now your undergarments are semi-dried, you dare to tuck your clothing back properly around you as you near a familiar cave mouth.

You step onto the rock of Moon’s home. As you work your way quietly to the mountain face, you find a familiar and hulking figure crouched over a small patch of dirt and growing greens.

There they are.

Moon straightens at your silent approach. Their rough stone skin is beautiful in the late morning light, marbled by veins of cobalt blue and sulfur yellow. The colors climb up from their left leg and twist around their torso, ending upon their face. The veins cover the right half of their face in blue. Their gaze is curious, falling over you with the right eye of silver and the left eye of sapphire. Their head lifts, covered in peacock lichen and trailing down to a spider web covered tip not unlike a star.

The mountain troll regards you quietly before returning to their flowers and herbs. The very same that sprouted from the seeds you gifted them some time ago.

“They’re growing beautifully,” you say in a voice that is too small. You clear your throat.

They flick a heavy glance to you. You cringe inwardly—it’s too late.

To your surprise, Moon dips their head in acknowledgement. Gently, with their large and wicked claws, unearths a weed and tosses it off the edge of the cliff.

“What is wrong, little mountain?” their voice is deep and growling like two stones grinding together.

You open your mouth but silence fills you to the brim. A thickness crawls into your throat. You choke on it for a moment. Reverting to a quiet sorrow, you simply gaze a while at Moon as they continue to kindly work over their little garden.

Your shoulder prickles with a soft sensation. Glancing down, you find a small jumping spider crawling along your robe sleeve. Jumper. The darling and dark colored creature sits a moment while you try to find your words.

Eventually, you hold out your hand. Jumper climbs into your palm. With great mindfulness, you slip back over to Moon, and give Jumper access to the mountain troll’s hat.

Moon rises back to their full head and gazes down at you. Jumper clings gently to the starry end of their peacock lichen. They gesture with a large but graceful hand.

“Come in,” they say.

You follow them into the great and deep mouth cave. The whirlwind of emotions within you begins to settle as the thick, gulping darkness of Moon’s home swallows you whole. Just as the last bit of light can no longer stretch within, a soft glow emits from a sizable stone. Moon must have done some magic, for they gently set it aside into a lichen-lined and cozy nook within the cave. Stepping with supernatural grace, Moon lifts Jumper from the end of their hat and places her in a large and beautifully weaved spider web in the corner of their abode.

Moon turns back to you. They stop along the wall of the cave where a few stone jars are resting, and they dig out a strange but glittering rock. A candy, you think, if the crystallization of sugar is anything.

“Here.” They offer out the crystal.

You try to thank them, but your voice continues to fail. You instead softly suck on the smooth clump of sugar, sparkling and purple like a geode rock.

Moon settles onto the floor, completely at ease despite the cool dampness and the darkness just at the edges of the glow stone. They invite you closer. You accept, sinking into their lap while you continue to work on the candy until you dislodge the thickness in your throat.

When you swallow the last of the sweetness down, you soak in Moon’s presence. Their claws tenderly brush through your hair.

At last, you find the chance to speak. You tell them everything that unfolded this morning.

“Ah,” they rumble deeply. “They should not have treated you as such, but Sunny’s temper is so and Eclipse is very territorial. It is bound to happen.”

“They are so petty,” you grumble. “Do they truly care for me or do they tend to their grievances even more?”

“Do not doubt their affections for you.” Moon gently nudges the top of your head in a small nuzzle. “Their rivalry may get the best of them at times, but they would not have rushed to save you from the unholy priests if they truly had no thought of your well being.”

You sigh deeply into Moon’s chest. Slowly, you glance up to the mountain troll, studying the glint of their gem-stone eyes in the dark.

“Do you feel such things?” you ask quietly.

They shake their head. “I am content with your affections and sharing them.”

You dip your head in relief. That’s one less thing to worry about, but that does not ease the ache in your heart at the events that transpired this morning.

You gently rise up from their embrace so you may better press a kiss to their cheek.

Moon lingers a moment close to you, before whispering, “There are visitors outside of my cave. Would you like to see them?”

Your heart lurches for a moment. Glancing towards the entrance, you, however, take a deep breath. You nod.

Hand in hand, you venture out towards the brilliant light of a noon day sun. Standing before the mouth is a contrite and oddly quiet pair. Sunny and Eclipse.

You feel Moon slip behind you, their touch on your shoulder in a supportive manner. Eclipse drips wetly while he gazes at you, his expression concerned. Sunny’s beautiful fronds have dampened to a sad shade of brown, and her fingers fidget together.

“We’re sorry,” the pair blurted out together. They glance once at each other, almost in alarm, before returning to you.

“I should not have tried to drag you back into the water,” the river spirit pauses, “that time.”

You arch an eyebrow. Moon growls at him.

Eclipse drags in a breath and bows his head slightly. “I shouldn’t have humiliated you. You are not something to be claimed, but cherished.”

“And I should have not interrupted your morning,” Sunny starts softly, her voice playing somberly. “I shouldn’t have tried to steal you away without even stopping for a moment to ask what you wanted. It was wrong to upset you so.”

You look between the two, the pair ashamed and awaiting your judgement. So quick to give chase to you after such a distressing departure.

A weight loosens from your chest. Warm trickles back into your veins, and you smile.

You gently pat Moon’s hand. They lift their touch away before you stride forward. Sunny titters quietly at your approach, another apology lining her honey hued lips. You push up on your tiptoes to kiss her and silence all fears. Her hands fall to your waist, tenderly clutching you close. Her fronds slip into a soft, peach blossom pink when you break away from her.

Silently turning to Eclipse, his orange eyes are almost doused with guilt before you close the distance. He takes you before you can reach him, and sweeping you close, he holds you tightly to his chest while you kiss him. His slick mouth greedily accepts your forgiveness, and his smooth touch roams over your robes before releasing you. There’s an undeniable breath of relief to his person when he watches you straighten.

“Now that it’s settled,” you declare, you survey your sweethearts with a lighter heart. “Let’s go to the hot spring. We can… continue making up there.”

“Excellent,” Eclipse answers, and immediately scoops you up. He holds you tightly, your feet dangling off the ground.

“Yes, we need more time to apologize,” Sunny continues, but she snatches up your hand and presses a kiss to the back of your knuckles even while Eclipse trudges down the mountain. They seem determined to behave, at least for the moment.

You glance back to Moon, who silently brings up the end of the caravan. They tilt their stony head. Their grin is gentle but reassuring. Finding your other free hand, they draw their stone-rough skins gently over your palm and squeeze you once in reassurance.

You might not be able to steal yourself away from their affections any time soon.

#naff's writing commissions #this was a blast to write #make sure you smooch all the creatures in the forest/rivers/mountains #they want to smooch you back!#naff writing

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tossawary · 10 months ago

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I'm enjoying this "Yue Qingyuan sent Shang Qinghua to go spy on Luo Binghe after Shen Qingqiu's death" AU, because I love it when background characters have their own goals and business, are fighting with each other, and are doing wild shit on purpose. Even if you're doing an AU (as per canon to our knowledge) where Shang Qinghua is not a double agent - and is just fleeing to the Demon Realm because he was found out as a traitor and/or decided that it was time to dip because the protagonist and Cang Qiong Mountain Sect are now in semi-open conflict - the question remains for exploration:

Why did Yue Qingyuan not go to Huan Hua Palace and try to kick Luo Binghe's ass to get Shen Qingqiu's body back?

It's suggested at several points that Tianlang-Jun at the height of his power was stronger than Luo Binghe, and Yue Qingyuan was part of the team that helped to seal Tianlang-Jun. Shen Yuan suggests that the original Luo Binghe had to bait Yue Qingyuan into a death trap of ten thousand arrows because Bing-ge (even with the Xin Mo Sword at this point) didn't want to face Yue Qingyuan head-on. (I think Bing-ge sent SQQ's legs to YQY or something.) Yue Qingyuan is willing to draw Xuan Su for SQQ and Liu Qingge is willing to help (although LQG might be mad that YQY let SQQ go to the Water Prison at all). YQY versus LBH is not a totally unbalanced fight.

It's possible that Yue Qingyuan didn't go fight because he kind of shut down due to grief. Shen Qingqiu has changed in recent years and died in a very sudden, very shocking, very confusing way. YQY also has a sect to look after and maybe he can't fully justify going out and escalating the conflict over a dead body (as opposed to a live hostage), and possibly get himself killed, when he's maybe hoping that Cang Qiong and Huan Hua can settle this without further death. The other peak lords all must have opinions on this and are probably pulling him in all sorts of directions. By Liu Qingge's account, Yue Qingyuan probably knows that Shen Qingqiu intentionally died for Luo Binghe and he knows that SQQ loved his disciple, so maybe he wants to respect SQQ's sacrifice and affection by not trying to kill Luo Binghe. When Luo Binghe invades Cang Qiong for SQQ's body (and Shen Yuan), Yue Qingyuan has to dangerously abort cultivation in the Ling Xi Caves to come face him, so it's possible that YQY had decided 5 years in that peaceful resolution was impossible and was gearing up to fight Luo Binghe, only to be a victim of bad timing (Liu Qingge's unexpected success in body retrieval).

It could be a combination of these reasonings! People do things for lots of different reasons and this is an emotionally charged situation which puts Yue Qingyuan in a complicated political position.

So, yeah, it could also be that Mu Qingfang came back from his kidnapping saying, "Luo Binghe was repairing Shen Qingqiu's body, trying to summon his soul, and was researching resurrection techniques when I was there," and Yue Qingyuan decided to just... sit back and see where that went. If Liu Qingge (who is probably NOT happy that YQY isn't throwing down already) succeeds in retrieving the body, fine, that's good enough, but if Luo Binghe succeeds in bringing Shen Qingqiu back...? Well, that's also good, isn't it? Yue Qingyuan can outsource the "go mad with grief and engage in crimes against the natural order" to someone else here.

I mean, I really don't think that Yue Qingyuan was actively PLANNING for Luo Binghe to resurrect Shen Qingqiu. That seems a little too wicked and scheming to be his main motivation here. But I do think he might have been... vaguely aware of this potential consequence of his inaction, this possible side effect of his paralyzing grief causing him to be hands-off about the situation and/or his cautious approach to peace negotiations, and I really don't think that he minds that Tianlang-Jun and Zhuzhi-Lang succeeded in bringing Shen Qingqiu back. (I do think he kind of wishes that the Shen Jiu who remembers him had come back instead, though.)

#tossawary svsss #spoilers #character death #yue qingyuan #yue qingyuan and shang qinghua double agent au #luo binghe #shen qingqiu #mu qingfang #liu qingge #violence #pidw luo binghe #tianlang jun #shen jiu #shen yuan

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midnight1nk · 4 months ago

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If you were to ask me:

Out of all the Puzzlevision episodes we had so far, which is your favorite?

My answer will always be “Once Upon An SMG4”. I mean, who wouldn't want a silly fairytale parody? With the chaotic nature of the show, it just made sense to me. You know what also made sense? Having SMG3 play the princess role, considering he is qualified to be a Disney Princess.

if you think about it, the whole Star Trio could be Disney Princesses…

As a glitchybombs shipper, Mr Puzzles basically gave a fairytale AU for us to work with. And indeed, we could’ve had a 'true love’s kiss' moment. While all of these are good reasons, it's not the main reason why I love it.

I love it because it's a parallel/twisted version of “It's Gotta Be Perfect”.

Every story, no matter how outlandish it seems, is grounded in reality.

Think of any fairytale you know of from the top of your head. Pretty easy, right?

But do you have a solid reason as to why the Evil Queen from Snow White is really evil? Or why Goldilocks was alone in the woods and decided to trespass on private property? Or why didn't the Godmother come sooner to save Cinderella from her abusive family?

Perhaps you can find answers in the depths of the internet and historical literature, but otherwise, it's up for speculation. That's because fairytales are for the sake of entertainment. Therefore, the characters and/or their personalities are reduced to simple roles: good guy, bad guy, etc. Toss in a subtle message about human morality and you got a nice little tale where the good guys win and the bad guys get what they deserve.

For “Once Upon An SMG4”, there's much more than what meets the eye. Follow me as I overanalyze this episode to events that happened in the “It's Gotta Be Perfect” arc, and discuss how they could be alluding to future character interactions, WOTFI 2024, and beyond...

ONCE UPON A Ṕ̷̱E̴̺̽R̵̖̎̕F̵̢̗̈́̀E̴̞̍C̴͈̽T̶͓̘̈́ SMG4

THE NARRATOR

The episode starts off with the first actual character of the story: the narrator. Now, we have no idea who that is.

There isn’t a name on who voiced him in the credits, and it can be easily assumed that it was just some random guy, like the one from the Puzzlevision Movie. But I think it might just be Mr Puzzles. He is the showrunner after all. He could've manipulated the script or be the narrator himself. Either way, he is the one in control, forcing the viewer to see the story through his lens (...or screen I guess).

Anyway, the narrator introduces one of the two main characters of the story:

SMG4

The narrator goes on to describe him as “an ugly, wicked witch who's selfish and cruel…” before Witch!4 proceeds to break his back for doing his evil laugh.

Remember how I said that complex characters were reduced to simpler roles? Four was one of them. In IGBP, Four felt inadequate as a content creator and just wanted to make his audience happy. He had insecurities before the arc, hidden in the back of his mind, but it was because of ‘SMG4... Are You Ok?’ episode that those insecurities have now come to light. As told in IGBP, his videos were a sort of “measure” of his worth. It wasn’t only that his videos weren’t good enough, it was that he wasn’t good enough. Therefore, he felt like he failed in making people happy. That would be his fault.

That was why he was desperate to create the best video ever. Unfortunately, when you are laser-focused on something, the world around you becomes a blur. Four isolated himself from the crew (We’ll get back to this, see: ‘Four’s Villain Song’). He didn’t sleep, didn’t even eat. He didn’t try to take care of himself because, as some of us relate, he thought that ‘if I worked on this a bit more, just another second more, maybe it’ll be perfect and I can finally finish it’, having his necessities as an afterthought or even ”reward”. It drove him to his breaking point in the ‘SMG4: MAR10 Day’ episode. It wasn't his intention to shut everyone out nor was it to hurt anyone. But, because he wasn’t in the right headspace, he lashed out at his friends.

As Mr Puzzles’ script stated, Four acted “selfish and cruel”, all for the perfect video. Mr Puzzles already perceived SMG4 in a negative light by calling the show “the stupidest” thing he’d ever seen. This was merely ‘evidence’ for Mr Puzzles to say, “See? This is why you shouldn’t be rooting for SMG4. He is a villain and he got what he deserved”. Four is a villain, that was all Mr Puzzles perceived him as, here in ‘Once Upon an SMG4’ (See: ‘You Look Peak, Brother”, for more). For his character, it makes a lot of sense. Mr Puzzles didn’t have friends growing up so he didn’t understand how Four’s insecurities were really affecting him.

However, a certain purple meme guardian did connect with Four. Speaking of which, the narrator introduces the second main character of the story:

SMG3

The narrator describes Three as “a beautiful princess pure of heart” and that he had “unparalleled beauty, embodying every romantic dream”. Insert Princess!3 having his Disney Princess Moment (TM).

If Mr Puzzles perceives Four being evil, does that mean he perceives Three as the opposite?

Well, sort of. From a storytelling perspective, for every bad guy, there is a good guy. Narrative foils, at times, are parallel to one another. They share similarities in terms of personality or appearance or just wanting the same goal. What better foil to have than Three, Four’s meme guardian partner and former villain.

What about beauty?

Three has repeatedly proclaimed how he's The Rizzler (TM) and how he is far more attractive than Four. In ‘SMG4: We Don’t Talk About What Happened in the Elevator’ episode, Four admitted that Three does have rizz, just as Three admits that he doesn’t hate Four (See: 'Fairest Fight 2024', for more).

Back to Princess!3, he sang how all he wants is money …and-a-sugarda--. While 'wanting to get rich' makes sense for Three’s character, it also doesn’t. Bare with me on this one:

In ‘SMG4: Trash Friends’, it was revealed that Three feels insecure about how he is perceived as Four’s cheap copy. Years ago, he tried being himself in memewarts and afterward. He failed to be recognized, unable to have friends, always being overshadowed by Four. So, in the YouTube Arc, he was obsessed with trying to become like Four. It wasn’t until he took over the channel that he got to experience what it truly felt like to be Four, before he eventually got sent to the Internet Graveyard and there began a whole new journey for him. He’s okay with his character development. In ‘SMG4: You Used To Be Cool’, he realizes that he doesn’t need to prove to anyone who he is, being satisfied with the life he now has.

What does it have to do with money?

Looking back at ‘SMG4: Trash Friends’ and the Meme Factory Arc, we saw that Three’s Coffee & Bombs wasn’t doing so well. It isn’t confirmed if this was of Mr Puzzles’ doing, but regardless, it does bring back some ugly memories for him. For once, he is enjoying the life he built and is currently trying to prove that he is not a mere copy of Four. But he might lose it, just as it happened with Snitch Productions.

He doesn’t want to go back to the life he had before. It isn’t just the café, it’s the possibility that he might lose his friends. Even if he doesn't want to admit it, he is part of the crew, and that is a lot more to lose. So, he has to “rescue” his café financially, to show that he “deserves” to have friends, that he “deserves” this life. Yes, he went through great risks to help his friends when they were in need, especially Four in IGBP. But he still wants to prove it.

(I’ll talk about it more about Three’s character on a later post.)

So, Mr Puzzles wasn’t all wrong; Three was “pure of heart” in a sense, he just has trouble showing his true emotions and being vulnerable again. After all, the first person he was vulnerable to was Terrence and we all know how that went.

And what about Eggdog?

Three literally came out of a flash drive so he doesn't have a biological family (or preprogrammed...because of the cosmology lore?). During the classic era, no one really treated him nicely. So, for Eggdog and additionally Terrence, he treated them with absolute devotion. Always reminding them that they are special, that they're loved. That they are never alone.

The difference was that Three was careful of Eggdog's whereabouts, while Terrence was always with him and minding his own business, including the Revelations movie. Three will always love Terrence, and to prove how good a parent he truly was, Terrence said a final "I love you" to Three.

He wasn't going to make the same mistake with Eggdog. Whenever Eggdog gets hurt, Three comes rushing to his side to ensure he is okay. Three keeps a close eye on him but when it comes to the bug mission, Three would have Eggdog stay at home or have a backup plan if Eggdog does come along. He just can't lose another loved one.

“YOU LOOK PEAK, BROTHER.”

Let’s cut ahead to when Witch!4 was giving compliments to a version of “him” inside the TV. Admittedly, this is just a bit.

HOWEVER, I overanalyze stuff soooooo…...

Remember how I said that Mr Puzzles sees Four in a negative light?

In IGBP, there was the hallway scene with Three, Meggy, and Mario discovering the paintings being replaced with messages. As Three states, these messages were his thoughts, how Four painted himself in a negative light. Four made sure to hide his low self-esteem well from his friends but it always lingered in the shadows.

Mario wasn't wrong: the person who "wrote" them was indeed a good person.

Mr Puzzles, however, showed the opposite. That Four set himself up on a pedestal, as someone who sees himself as righteous. A narcissist. And how? By being the “TV, TV on the Wall” and pretending to be Witch!4 on the screen giving compliments to the actual Witch!4 how perfect he is.

YOU’RE INVITED!

This is more of a parallel than anything. In the story, Princess!3 gets “invited” to King Bob’s Ballin’ Ball, the invite literally being launched to him by Witch!4.

In the IGBP arc, Three got invited to do a collab with Mr Yeast through his stream in ‘SMG4... Are You Ok?’ episode. While Four may have not been the one who brought in Mr Yeast for him, it was because of Four’s crew that made Three went through a new path in his life from the end of the Youtube Arc, being Lord of the Internet Graveyard, and becoming a streamer which got him the collab. So, indirectly, Four brought Mr Yeast to Three.

A (FAILING) PLAN

Fast forward through the story, Princess!3 strolls around the ball, Witch!4 instructs Prince Luigi to give Princess!3 the apple to make him "the ugliest princess" and Witch!4 would become the fairest of them all. As expected, it failed miserably, and Witch!4 had to improvise and come up with a new plan.

In IGBP, Four also had a plan when he was starting to create the perfect video, stocking his room with enough food for him to last. He made multiple attempts to create the video, feeling unsatisfied with every version he made.

MR. LUIGI

OMG, Mr L? Nah, I’m just kidding.

In all seriousness, though, I did find it fascinating that Prince Luigi basically turned Mr Yeast, the catalyst of IGBP. Hmmm….

THE TALLEST TOWER

By Witch!4’s instructions, Mr Luigi kidnaps Princess!3 and puts him in the tallest tower.

In IGBP, there is a scene where the rescuing trio finds SMG4’s classic design before it awakens and traps Three with him, making Meggy and Mario find Four to rescue them both. Curiously, the final showdown with Possessed!4 and Monster!3 waiting for them took place in the tallest tower of Peach’s castle.

A DOLLAR (…AND A BLOCK OF “CHEESE”)

In Mr Yeast fashion, he proposes a challenge that whoever save the princess gets a dollar, before he gets pushed off the tower by Princess!3. Realizing that he might need help, Princess!3 was able to get Mario to save him, promising that one dollar and an additional block of "cheese". In all technicality, Mario was completing the challenge.

In the IGBP arc, Mario completed a challenge created by Mr Yeast, making spaghetti while in a crashing plane. And, would you look at that? Food was involved too!

FOUR'S VILLAIN SONG

Told you we would come back to it! Better than what Disney’s Wish could ever do, Witch!4 sings how great being a villain was and how you just can’t go wrong with a great villain song. An absolute classic.

I do want to point out the first few lines of Four’s musical number:

I’ve gotta be honest with you, There’s many reasons I like being the villain, from just chillin’ to killin’ to tyrannically instilling fear, unto unwilling peasants who crossed my path…

Again, this shouldn’t be taken that seriously, but knowing how Mr Puzzles perceives him to be, this meant a lot more. Four, being the ‘villain’ of IGBP, was “tyrannically instilling fear” unto his friends who ‘prevented’ him from creating the perfect video. This, for the most part, was how Mr Puzzles saw it since IGBP was a horror parody. In reality, the crew was worried for him, not scared of him. Sure, there were moments when they were confused about Four’s extreme behavior but they were more worried about his wellbeing. Mr Puzzles didn’t know what that was like, to have someone worried for another’s wellbeing.

BOOPKINS

Yes, even Boopkins gets a spot on here! In the story, when Mario brought Sir Boopkins to save Princess!3, Princess!3 immediately regrets his life choices. Boopkins, on the other hand, doesn’t listen to what Princess!3’s yelled to Mario and attempts to save him… miserably.

It directly mirrors in IGBP, how Boopkins tried to defeat the keyboard demon with the ‘power of friendship and love’.

Love wins! Love always wins!

[It's Gotta Be Perfect]

He isn't wrong, a lot of the arcs were resolved because of love between friends, family, and partners. The good guys indeed win, but not without sacrifice. They kept their promise, but not without loss.

IGBP was no different. While ‘love always wins’ is true, Boopkins went about it the wrong way, thinking the demon itself would have a change of heart. Three was the one who somehow did it correctly and was able to save Four at the end.

Wow. Love does win, huh?

FAIREST OF THEM ALL

After Sir Boopkins’ failed attempt, Witch!4 comes in, riding a dragon, saying to Princess!3:

“Ha ha! You will never be saved, princess, and I shall be fairest of them all!”

[Once Upon An SMG4]

Do remember that scene?

Good.

Now imagine that moment in IGBP when Four had to choose to save Three or the flash drive that contained the video they made:

You will never be saved, Three, and I will have the perfect video!

…Ain’t that wild?

Then, it begs the question: Did Mr Puzzles want Three to die? Actually, no, he wanted Four dead. Remember back in the movie when the tentacles of the keyboard demon dragged Four back into the desk. Four knew he couldn’t leave so Four begged Three to leave him there and accepted that the whole incident was his fault. And it did seem like the end for him.

Plot twist: Three snapped him (or I guess slapped him) out of it and stayed alongside Four so he could help finish the video. It was because of Three that Four was finally freed from the cursed keyboard and it was because of Three admitting that they are friends that Four made his final decision. If Three wasn’t there, Four would’ve become a monster like Peach did or Four would have to sacrifice Three because he was traumatized to the point that he needs the video.

Perhaps it didn’t go how Mr Puzzles intended it to be but hey, it was entertainment, so he had let it slide for now.

FAIREST FIGHT 2024

Back to the story, Mario proposes that Witch!4 and Princess!3 should have a contest to see who really is the fairest. And so began the Fairest Fight 2024, consisting of three (3) challenges for three (3) judges to see who earns the title of the “fairest of them all”. Let’s begin with the first challenge:

ATTRACTING NOBLE HEROES CHALLENGE

Princess!3 was able to convince one hero with the weak promise of friendship while Witch!4 offering a lifetime sub to his OF, beating Princess!3 this round.

It parallels how it was in the outside world where Three, still trying his best, makes attempts to be popular while Four, already being incredibly popular, can easily attract his audience with his memes. But it also shows how Four is willing to dedicate a lot of his time and effort to making people happy while Three is still cautious about how open he should be to other people.

KISSING A FROG CHALLENGE

Okay, obviously, it's supposed to be a ‘princess and the frog’ reference. Just a bit, but it could mean something more. First off, to get this out of the way, I find it interesting that when Witch!4 tried to kiss a frog, the frog turned into Kermit and practically made him lose the challenge (Three didn’t either btw). It mirrored how in IGBP, Four kept using Kermit clips to make this perfect video, refusing to use any other material which eventually caused him to go insane.

With that out of the way, let’s get to the deep analysis part of this challenge:

As IGBP has taught us, relationships are complicated and complex. It takes time and dedication to stay but it also needs balance. As emotions are involved, it can be hard for others to completely understand the situation but, as Three has done, it’s possible to try.

We already made a connection of this episode being a twist of IGBP, so this could be applied here, how Four and Three approach a supposed relationship, in two ways:

(1) The frogs represent the new people that will enter each of their lives

When Four gets involved romantically and/or platonically with someone new who we call Person A, he can be a bit forward towards this person, but he is willing to commit to it. Person A however would either (1) end the relationship or (2) die. This leaves Four shocked.

When Three gets involved romantically and/or platonically with someone new (Person B), he is willing to risk it all. Usually, he is cautious about what he does but Person B somehow convinced him that they are the exception. Person B, like the poisonous frog, would either (1) use emotional manipulation to hurt 3 to a certain end or (2) be the cause of his death.

(2) The frogs represent each other — the Axol X Melony Theory(???)

That’s right, SMG34 shippers, it’s our time now. While SMG34 ship has been incredibly well-known in the fandom and the people behind the SMG4 show, we know it’s not going to become canon, mostly due to homophobia from certain fans, and the ship isn't meant to be treated seriously. But there are also too many moments that allude to the idea that they can be canon. Even reactors are starting to notice, a few lowkey “ship” them (which is honestly insane). In ‘SMG4: Plane Trip’ episode, Swag and Four had a bit of a bonding moment. Swag mentioned Sonic, his wife, as family. Four mentions how he feels the same (about being in a romantic relationship) and “having someone back home [himself]”, there he is presented with a locket. Again, this could all be a joke with well-known crack ships (memes, Dasani, computer, etc). Strangely though, the punchline never came.

They didn’t have time to put it in.

No, because all it takes is a few seconds to shift to Four’s POV and show THE DAMN PHOTO. BUT THEY DIDN’T!

*proceeds to scream into a pillow*

…Uh, anyway, some reactors suspected the person in the locket was Three. If reactors had the mere thought about Three and Four being together, then you know something really is up between those two. Sure, fandom talk. But like, if someone who you didn’t expect at all says that they might be gay, then the signals they give off must be really loud.

If the slightest chance this ship is ever going to be canon, then the Frog Challenge would be the slickest foreshadowing they had ever done, and yet brings up a whole lot of dread for the SMG34 shippers. At the end of WOTFI 2023, Three drew himself and Four enjoying a cup of coffee together, which seems oddly similar to Melony’s drawing of her and Axol (and vice-versa with Axol’s Confession Page).

If the theory is going to come true and the Kissing A Frog Challenge is going to allude to something, then it could mean two things:

(1) Either Four or Three would be with someone else, leaving the other heartbroken and therefore, their crush on them “died”

(2) Four or Three would confess to the other their feelings, but it would be too late and the other would be destined to die

Oh boy, ok. Let’s take a moment here to take a breather off the screen and pray for the shippers that the Axol X Melony Theory would not come true, regardless if the ship is ever going to be canon.

TRY NOT TO GET KIDNAPPED CHALLENGE

Stepping away from the Kissing Frog Challenge, we hop into this challenge, where the two avoid getting themselves kidnapped by Shrek. Princess!3 came up with the idea to use Witch!4 as a sort of trade, pointing out Witch!4’s features as selling points (with Princess!3 puking at the end there). According to Witch!4, they were "the worst selling points" he ever heard and it still worked. Princess!3 beat the challenge and placed the two of them in a complete tie.

Say it with me now: it’s just a bit.

And yet again I say: hear me out…

It shows that Three accepts Four’s flaws. Sure, there might be things that Three might find annoying about Four but he doesn’t hate Four. Especially, after IGBP, they connected more than ever. When they are in desperate need, they find each other. When one feels down or upset, the other notices. It makes sense, considering that they’re cosmically linked. But somehow, thanks to IGBP, they became close and already saw parts of each other's worst side. Four already accepts that Three is a former villain but Three of all people also accepts Four for who he is.

THE WINNER

The points have been tallied and judges make their decision, declaring Princess!3 as the official winner. Along with the title of being the “fairest”, he gets a wish. Twist of the episode: Three breaks the fourth wall and wishes to escape Mr Puzzles’ control. Then, Godmother Puzzles swoops in and restores the natural order of his script. Again, it’s plain and simple: Three is begging the audience to help them find an escape from this nightmare.

…well…

Notice how the one who broke the tie between the two was Mr Luigi, giving the last point to Princess!3, just as how Mr Yeast preferred to collab with Three instead of Four.

Remember how I said being the fairest is the equivalent of being perfect from that line told by Witch!4? This scene isn’t telling us that Three is perfect, but rather Four is imperfect. For the audience, we know that no one is perfect and that is okay. To quote from the animated show, Arcane:

"In the pursuit of great, we failed to do good."

[Arcane, S1 EP9]

From Mr Puzzles’ perspective and his ideology of being perfect, imperfection sounds like a bad thing.

The part where Princess!3 won was the same way how Three “won” in IGBP. Princess!3 won by getting what he wanted since the beginning of the story: money. Three, being the protagonist of IGBP, the 'good guy', won by beating the demonic keyboard and saving his partner.

.・-: ✧ :--: ✧ :-・.

And that is “Once Upon An SMG4”, a twisted version of “It’s Gotta Be Perfect”. One that Mr Puzzles would have preferred. But it’s not over yet, my dear fellows, as every story has a sequel.

“And SMG4, who knew you could play an antagonist so well! High marks from me.”

[SMG4: Puzzlevision Movie]

A new arc is approaching leading up to WOTFI 2024 and if the 'SMG4: Inside Out' episode has anything to go by, IGBP really affected Four. Perhaps we don't get to see it through his behavior but he still remembers it. (hmm, how curious that Once Upon an SMG4 gets an appearance here...🤔) According to Inside Out 2 movie, orange symbolizes anxiety, meaning that Four is terrified that he might cause another IGBP incident. Naturally, problems can't easily be resolved and at times, they relapse.

In the actual plot of the episode, Four drank that carton of "special brain juice" with Mr Puzzles' face plastered on it. This is a major problem:

(1) Because of Anger taking control of Four's emotions, Four destroyed the carton, getting rid of the only evidence there was for anyone else to make the connection that Mr Puzzles is up to something.

(2) He was alone when he did this. Remember: Three placed a hidden camera in Four's room when he decorated it. It has been confirmed in the actual merch with Three stating in his notebook that "it was a mistake" putting it there. We don't exactly know why he did it, but it can be assumed that he just wanted to keep tabs on Four to make sure another IGBP incident doesn't happen. If he couldn't use the camera, he would stop by to check up on him, making fake excuses on why he came. Except when Four took the carton, it was in the kitchen and Three wasn't able to come over to the castle.

At the end of the episode, we can assume that Mr Puzzles has taken control of Four's mind and used him to his advantage. With WOTFI 2024 coming up and new arcs beyond that, it will be up to the crew to rescue Four once again and stop Mr Puzzles from taking creative control of their real lives...

That is another post for me to work on but in the meantime, that’s just a theory…

AN SMG4 THEORY

🎶Thanks for dropping by🎶

#smg4 #smg4 theory #smg4 smg3 #smg3 #smg3 x smg4 #smg34 #< implied #once upon a perfect smg4 #smg4 puzzlevision #puzzlevision arc #smg4 its gotta be perfect #wotfi 2023

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navybrat817 · 2 years ago

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Partners in Crime

Pairing: Mob!Nick Fowler x Female Reader Summary: A night out with one of your father's most trusted associates puts you on a new and dangerous path. Word Count: Over 1.9k Warnings: Implied e/xplicit s/exual content, d/runk s/ex (con-sensual), d/rinking, talk of v/iolence, p/ossessive behavior, possible soft!dark vibes if you squint, engagement, not-so-great dad, Nick Fowler (he's a warning, okay?). Graphic talent and thanks: Banner - @sgt-seabass, Divider - @firefly-graphics , Nick edit - Nix, Moodboard - yours truly A/N: Welcome to my Wicked Arrangements AU! For @the-slumberparty 's April Writing Challenge (prompt in bold italics) and we'll see a few other characters down the road. ❤️ Beta read by the wonderful @whisperlullaby and pre-read by @slyyywriting , but any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

The first thought that entered your mind when you woke up was that you were never drinking whiskey again. You couldn't even remember how much you had, but you weren’t going to bounce back immediately from this hangover. You tried to avoid getting drunk whenever you could. At least it wasn't at your dad's party.

Not that you stuck around for most of it anyway.

Nick Fowler, one of the most powerful men in the city and your dad's most trusted associate, was waiting by your car when you left.

"Why don't we have a real party?

A man as ruthless and dangerous as he is beautiful, there was a reason why so many wanted him on their side. He wasn't afraid to get his hands dirty or the kind of man to cross. Though he didn't say much to you with your dad around, it didn't stop him from eye fucking you every chance he had.

It was only natural that you wanted him.

"Sure. I could use a distraction."

"Oh, sweetheart, I'll give you much more than that."

With a groan, you cracked one eye open and then the other. The pounding headache made it difficult to see as you tried to blink away the spots in your vision. If you had to choose an equivalent to what your throat felt like, sandpaper would be the closest. At least you didn't get sick. The bed you laid in was also comfortable and the sheets kept your naked body warm enough.

You forgot about the pain in your head as the ache between your legs grabbed your attention.

Oh, yeah. That happened.

Closing your eyes, a blurred vision of tangled limbs surfaced, the blue eyes of Nick piercing through the fog.

“Knew you’d take my cock like a good girl.”

And you did over and over.

Doing your best not to move too fast, you carefully turned your head and opened your eyes again. You expected to see him sleeping beside you, but he wasn’t there. Gently touching the spot, you noticed it still had a bit of warmth. Maybe he went to the bathroom or decided to get breakfast.

It took a moment to register that something sparkled on your left hand as sunlight peeked in through the curtain. “What the hell?” you mumbled as you stared at the diamond ring on the fourth digit.

A ring that looked suspiciously like an engagement ring.

No, no, no, we did not.

“Morning, sweetheart,” a familiar voice gently pierced the air as you kept staring at your finger. "Surprised to see you awake. How are you feeling?"

You tore your gaze away to look at Nick, who had an all too smug look on his eyes.

"I don't know yet," you said honestly, clearing the scratch from your throat.

Nick hummed as he walked across the room in just his underwear. A hint of a smirk formed on his handsome face as you admired him. The black suits he normally wore hid how broad his shoulders and chest were. They also hid most of his tattoos, which you vaguely recall tracing a few with your fingers and tongue. Your gaze trailed down his chiseled abs to the front of his boxers, the throbbing ache between your thighs intensifying.

No. Focus.

"You did say too much whiskey would give you a headache," he said, handing you some aspirin and water.

You quickly took the pills with a generous gulp, the cold liquid soothing the slight burn in your throat. "Did we…?" you trailed off.

"Did we what?" he asked, running a hand through his short hair. You were pretty sure you tried to pull it while you rode him. "We did a lot of things last night, so you'll need to be more specific."

Your cheeks flamed as you held up your hand, proud when it didn't shake. "This."

He slowly ducked down and you couldn't stop the hitch in your breath as his lips touched your forehead. "Get married? No," he said, pressing a soft kiss against your skin.

You could breathe a bit easier. While your dad wouldn't lay a hand on you if you married without his permission, he could and would wreck the life you tried to have beyond the bubble he put you in. Piece by piece.

"But you also said I couldn't have you unless I put a ring on your finger, so I did."

"I was kidding!" you said. No way he actually believed that.

"I took it seriously," he murmured, moving his mouth to your ear. "And it's a perfect fit. Just like my cock inside you."

"Oh, my god," you whispered.

"You said that, too," he whispered, dragging his lips down the column of your neck. The scruff on his chin left a delicious burn in its path. "I reminded you to say my name instead."

The gravel of his voice sent a shiver down your spine before you moved to the other side of the bed and out of his reach. "I need a minute," you said, feeling his eyes on you as you stood up.

"I'll be waiting."

You didn't bother to cover yourself up as you went to the bathroom, your head not spinning as much as you expected it to. Nick saw everything last night and into the early morning, so you had no shame if you watched your hips sway. Splashing some water on your face, you had no idea where to go from here. While Nick was fun and a wonderful distraction, you couldn't help but wonder if last night was a calculated move.

It wasn't a secret that your dad wanted a son to take over his empire one day. He got you instead. He should have been a good father who loved and cared for you, but he treated you as an investment. You had a good education after you chose a college from the options he provided you. The same with your job as he limited the places you could apply to.

While he didn't keep you in a cage, he certainly kept you on a leash.

Maybe if mom was still around, things would be different.

You would only take over his businesses with a man of his choice by your side. He usually only had you around his inner circle of men long enough for them to flirt and leer at you. You were certain he was prepping you for the highest bidder.

Are you that bidder, Nick?

"Why were you waiting for me last night?" you asked once you went back into the bedroom where Nick was now on the bed. "Did my dad ask you to?"

"I was waiting for you because I wanted you. I thought that was obvious," he answered, unashamedly looking you over as you joined him. He reached for you, his fingers surprisingly gentle as he touched your cheek. "And I got tired of waiting."

Nick Fowler got whatever he wanted.

"But did he ask you to?" you repeated, showing him your hand again. "And how the hell did you just happen to have a ring on you my size?"

"Your dad had nothing to do with it. I've had that ring on me and my eye on you for some time," he said, kissing your hand and drawing a gasp from you as he put you on your back. "In case you forgot, I slipped it on after you drank the rest of my Jack Daniels and gave me a lap dance in my private booth. You didn't complain."

You recalled grinding to the beat as Nick sat back and watched. He looked like a modern king on a throne as the lights pulsed around him. No one would have bat an eye if he fucked you in his VIP section.

Which he did.

"We're not actually engaged, Nick. I said I was kidding about putting a ring on my finger."

His eyes darkened as he stretched over you, his muscles rippling before his weight settled. "You said you'd be mine."

Your heart raced, but it wasn't out of fear. "You don't even know me. Not really," you said, thankful that tears didn't fill your eyes.

How could he when no one was able to get close to you?

His knuckles caressed your cheek and you tried not to lean into his touch. "Told you I've had my eye on you for some time, dulceata. I know you better than you think."

You wanted to believe he did, but could you trust a man who worked with your dad? Did he want you simply to gain access to more resources? Gain more power?

"You're manipulative."

"I prefer calculating and there isn't anything wrong with that," he said before his lips touched yours.

His kiss brought back a reminder of the pleasure he gave you, your body humming with the promise of more. The man had layers to him, but something inside you said he wouldn't hurt you. He may be more inclined to hurt anyone who hurt you.

Maybe.

"I guess you have to be in your line of work," you said, a bitter laugh escaping. It was better than crying. "But if you're serious about whatever this is, do you really think my dad will let us be together? Well, he might if he thinks he can get something from you. He does value you. Pretty sure he even likes you more than he likes me."

It didn't hurt to say that as much as you thought it would.

"I don't give a fuck what your dad thinks," he said, his handsome face gazing down at yours. "I know he thinks he can control your life, but he's in for a rude awakening. And I can promise you I would never be that kind of father to our daughter."

"Please, don't talk about us having kids," you begged. You still had too much of a headache for that, but your womb clenched of its own accord.

"Why not?" he smirked. "You're going to be my wife."

I'm not even going to argue for the time being.

"Well, I need to rest, future husband," you said before he suddenly slid down your body and parted your legs. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Just looking at the pretty pussy I ruined," he said, tracing a finger along your slit. Your body quickly responded to his touch and you weren't ashamed of the small moan you let out. "Which belongs to me now. If it wasn’t meant to be, you wouldn’t fit me so perfectly.”

"Is that right?" you asked, clenching around nothing.

Should I beg him to fuck me or play a little hard to get?

"You know it does. And if you want to go back to sleep, go right ahead. I'll fuck you until you're stuffed with me and wake you with my tongue," he said, making your back bow as his warm breath skimmed your folds. "You'll be begging me to fuck you all over again."

Your body went pliant against the sheets. "Nick?" you breathed out. "How do I know I can trust you?" You questioned before you would allow him to distract you.

"I guess I'll have to prove my loyalty to you," he replied, his eyes dark and calculating as he looked up at you. "I'll start by killing your father".

Surely Nick doesn't mean that. Right? Hehe. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Nick Fowler Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

#navybrat writes #nick fowler x reader #nick fowler x female reader #nick fowler x you #nick fowler x y/n #mob!nick fowler x reader #nick fowler #mob!nick fowler #navy and roo's sleepover #nick fowler fanfiction #nick fowler imagine #nick fowler au #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x female reader #sebastian stan x you

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spacexseven · 2 years ago

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tuna I am. thinking about eelzai. for it is mermay and thus His Time.

imagine. you go out on the water. very cold night, very shitty boat. your engine stalls (definitely didn't get viciously tail-thwacked by a certain eel until it broke that's definitely not what happened) and you get stuck out there, and there's no one else out who will hear you call for a tow, so you're in for the night.

because hes just OH so nice amd has ZERO ulterior motives, dazai hauls his huge ass into your boat (with just how fucking long he is you're surprised he didn't sink it) and offers to let you huddle up with him for warmth! well less offers and more like immediately starts coiling around you before you can respond but you get it. while he's a naturally cold blooded creature, his human half runs pretty hot- perhaps in order to regulate his species' body temp in various underwater environments. it's hard to deny that the heat he radiates its very nice... even if he's soaking wet and his grip is too tight and he keeps licking you with he thinks you won't notice.

I have been Thinking about this for like 3 hours. need him so bad.

- 🩹

omg i really wanted to get to this before may ends and!! i made it cheers

if you're new to mer au check out some of the other stuff so you know what to expect from eelzai! yandere character.

the reason why you're out in the cold, guided only by your tiny lamp and the moonlight is because of dazai, since he won't leave you alone in the morning. trying to traverse the waters in daytime is terribly inefficient because a giant sea creature grabs onto the side of your boat and threatens to topple you over if you don't play (and with a perfectly unassuming smile on his face too, the devil).

you beloved boat has served you for a long time now, a simple but trusty thing that has travelled many hours with you and survived many attempts at dazai's...playtime. but there's only so much tail smacking and claw digging it can take before it gives in on itself, and it just so happens that tonight's when it finally surrenders to dazai's attacks. it only takes a little shove from dazai for the engine to splutter and come to a complete stop, refusing to budge no matter how many times you kick it or plead it to start up again.

and who else shows up but dazai himself? he doesn't even have the shame to pretend to feel guilty about stranding you in the middle of nowhere with your lamp flickering out thanks to his shove, and your phone unable to call for help, and instead he looks up at you like he just so happened to come across you, like he had absolutely nothing to do with your current predicament. he straightens himself out until he's face to face with you, and then looks at your boat with a surprised expression.

"that looks bad," he says, and the surprise morphs into something more wicked, "poor you. can a little human really survive out here on their own?"

"i have a lighter," you lie, "and i will singe your eyebrows off."

he pouts and drags himself down under the dark waters before popping up again on the other side, splashing more cold water onto you, "you must be cold," he croons, clearly relishing in your troubles, "a little flame won't help."

you can't even deny it because you're shivering, even under all your layers. but you won't let him win, can't let him hold yet another victory over your head and grin at you with his too-sharp teeth and his piercing eyes, calling you a weak human once again.

but you've come prepared, and you pull out a thick blanket to wrap over yourself while you consider your options to make it out of the water, either by rowing or finding a way to start up the engine again. except, as you unfurl the wonderful piece of cloth, dazai glares at it and dives head-first, frighteningly fast, making sure to flick his tail in your direction to drench your newfound ray of hope with freezing water. you stare at it, your mind numb and your heart shattered.

"oops," he giggles from behind you, "i didn't mean to do that."

sighing, you resign yourself to your fate. if you rowed hard enough, you could forget about the cold chilling your limbs, right? and you'd have to reach shore eventually, even if it takes...a few hours. you didn't go out that far anyway. but as you rummage in your boat for your oar—the one you went out of your way to get just in case you had to smack dazai in the face whenever he got a little too handsy and eager—you feel the boat tilt backwards, and you turn to face dazai grinning at you with his hands grabbing onto the rear of the boat.

"don't worry about the cold," he, in a motion so fluid you barely see it happening, hauls himself onto the boat, causing you to stumble over and creating a perfect opportunity for dazai to lean over and grab you, ignoring your screeching as he brings you over to him, "i can keep you warm!"

and, oh—you hate it. you hate the unfamiliar sensation of a tail wrapping itself around your legs, you hate his long arms holding your upper body still and his head on your shoulder, looking up at you with faux innocence. you hate the fact that though he's dripping wet and he should be freezing cold, he's surprisingly warm, and somewhat comfortable to be contained within. you hate the way he's careful, too, because you'd have never expected him to be so delicate with the way his claws press over your skin. of course, his caution doesn't extend to stopping himself from placing a few wet kisses here and there, or playfully nipping at the skin of your neck, but it's more than you'd hoped from the same dazai that regularly threatened to eat you.

you're practically immobilized, too, gently rocking with the waves as dazai hums delightedly, but the sight of the stars against the dark sky is gorgeous and the slow movement of the water is reassuring, even with an unfamiliar weight around your body and a predator over you. your oar is long abandoned, and your engine peacefully resting, but you can't find it in yourself to be panicked when dazai's warmth is so comforting against the chill in the air and his stroking slowly lulls you to a much needed rest.

just a few moments, you tell yourself. but when you wake up, the sun has risen and dazai is long gone, but your boat is close to shore, and you know exactly who pushed you all the way here.

maybe night trips weren't that bad.

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carnal-lnstinct · 9 months ago

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Change The Fate's Design

Pairing: Goddess!Reader x War God!Goku Content: au: CLAMP’s RG Veda-inspired fic. afab reader. established rivals. love confession. hinted unrequited love. angst. hurt/comfort. possessiveness. A/N: This is just a retelling of one of the plot twists from RG Veda so spoilers but I doubt anyone is going to read that old manga. I recommend it if you like beautiful, dramatic characters and pain of which you can never recover from! But also, it's CLAMP so it has its...problems. For context: There is a prophecy that the unborn heir of the War God will awaken as the God of Destruction destined to destroy all the realms, and the War God knows.

“...Do you think destiny can be changed?” The golden-eyed war god asked suddenly.

A brow arched in response, followed by an unimpressed stare. Odd. 'You are asking me', she thinks to herself. Fate has never bound her to anything to expect anything in return from it. Everything she has, she has earned by the will of her own heart and the strength of her own two hands. Something troubles the War God to ask her of all people such a thing. Moving confidently, her feet shift around as she turns to face him with a soft, yet arrogant grin.

“To get what I want, I would rearrange the stars themselves.” Boldly left her lips without a hitch nor a blink of an eye.

Goku does not flinch at her callous answer, either. The god of war stares back and slowly a smile forms, breaking the melancholy of his expression. However prideful and selfish her intentions come across, she speaks with a sureness that came as a comfort to him, clearing his fears to reveal a path of hope for a future untethered by the stars. A better future for his son. For that wish, he will become just as selfish as the goddess— if not more— for what he is willing to attempt to save the future prince.

It felt like an affliction in his soul, worse than any atrocities the most wicked creatures could conjure. Weighing all of the heavens against the life of his innocent child, desiring the latter at the risk of calamity befalling everyone else. Including himself. But he does not waver, nor stall. Goku steps forward closing their distance to speak in confidence, sharing his forbidden words.

“Then…Would you lend me a hand in changing the path of the stars?” He asks, a gentle cant of his head as he watches her with a solemn gaze. It is just as bold to ask this much of anyone to join him in sin, let alone a court rival. And damn foolish to assume a prophecy can be changed when the stars have never been wrong. But he needs to try.

Does this push them all towards the path of the prophecy or set the stage for a more desirable future for the heir of his kingdom?

The incredulous look he gets in return for his plea says it all. Even without sharing the context of his wish to change fate, he must know how ridiculous that sounds. For one such as herself who did not believe in fate's direct hand there has been some truth to it, crediting the natural powers of heaven itself. But... she does not need to believe in it, nor does she require the reason. It was enough he groveled to her for his fool’s errand. Desperate.

The Goddess’ arrogant grin grows and she steps closer as well, lending her attention to his cry for help and smug as can be. There’s a wicked glint in her eyes.

“Will I get what I want if I lend you my strength?” She asks, coming in closer still.

“What is it that you want?”

Her touch is soft and it surprises him, suddenly, gently, resting along the curve of his cheek. Golden eyes widened looking down at her and her own eyes were gentle and reverent of the form before her like he had never seen before.

"...You." There’s a longing in her tone, as well as a demand. But not her ego anymore.

Her intentions are clear but Goku is stunned, to say the least. She hid this well behind her arrogance and duty, perhaps biding her time for the right circumstances of just him and her. Yet, it was only for a moment he hesitated as he took in her sincerity. He understands the opportunity it gave him. 'Anything for Gohan.'

“...If fate can be changed…” His voice trailed off, eyes faltering in concede making his head lower away but her hand shifted to cup his jaw, lifting his head to bring his eyes back on hers.

“I will rearrange the stars to get what I want.” She declares. The silence stirred between them now, unwavering eyes watching the other. And then her other hand grasps his face as she lures him down into a kiss, sealing their fate. Permitting his selfishness and his foolishness to disrupt the will of the realm. They could be selfish fools together.

#goku x reader #son goku x reader #goku imagine #dbz fics #dbz imagine #My writing #this was so much longer but then I realized the rest doesn't matter #also it made me cry #not my most creative fic but its the most self-indulgent ♥

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jooniperbonsai · 9 months ago

Text

Thanks for the Sub (ksj) | Chapter Three

Pairing: Camboy!Seokjin x Gamer!Reader (afab)

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 14.9k

Release date: March 24, 2024

Genre: Smut, fluff, angst, camboy au, gamer au, comedy, crack, slow burn (?), coworkers/boss/friends to lovers, an exploration of adults in their late 20s/early 30s

Summary: Now that Seokjin has agreed to come over and help you practice for your streams, you find there's a lot more you want to do with him than actually prepare for this stream.

Chapter Warnings: Anxiety and panic attacks HEAVILY referenced in this chapter, familial verbal and emotional abuse that might be triggering to some (slamming of doors, manipulative behaviors), references to puberty, implied chubby/fat reader, references to disordered eating (not main characters), references to oral (f), mention of sub drop, Seokjin is STRONG and the king of consent, lots of little domestic moments idk let's hope I didn't forget anything

a/n: Ahh finally, I'm so sorry it took so long to get to you. I have been very busy in my little corner of reality so I haven't had a chance to really dive back in for a while. I hope you enjoy more of the backstory to the characters in this one, I found pulling away from the spicy bits a little necessary so I could learn more about my characters as they grow.

I'll be in South Korea these next few weeks for my birthday, so I might be mostly offline but I'll enjoy looking at your comments, tags, questions, etc, while I'm away! Thanks for your patience. Enjoy! -h

This, she thinks, is goodbye. Her body sprawled in the silk sheets of August’s chamber, head thrust back onto the plush pillows. Never again in her life did she think she would see the dark beams of his ceiling again, yet now, her legs bent and open for him, his lips eagerly suckling her inner thigh, she couldn’t imagine life any other way.

How many times had she counted each knot in the wood above her, her eyes tracing the swirl and swell of the grain while August swirled the swell of her sex? Perfectly matched in this way, as if he were reading her like a map he’d crafted himself. He knew her. Knew all of her, how the heady moan leaving her throat now was a sign she was becoming impatient with his thorough ministrations.

She dared to risk a glance down, only to see him watching her intently, devilishly choosing that moment to latch himself onto her, a wicked smirk flashing across his face as she elicited a hearty gasp.

“August,” she breathed, instinctively tangling her fingers through his newly-raven hair, dyed dark now to comply with his family’s request. While his once-bleached locks were the definite sign of his rebellion, a sign that he would fight against the ruling state and their convoluted and asinine laws that prevented royalty from marrying a commoner, she admitted his natural hair suited him more. He looked less harsh this way, his delicate skin creamy and soft as she skimmed her fingertips across his cheek.

“No,” he breathed into her sex, sending a delightful shiver down her spine.

Something about the glint in his eye as he feasted upon her spelled out more than simple lust. No, she forbade herself to think that this was more than a parting gift, a transaction before she would be cast aside for his betrothed.

“Please,” she begged, though she knew she was asking for many things in that request. Please end the hunger between her legs, please end his engagement. Please take her to bed tonight and tomorrow and every night after. Please love me.

“Say my name,” he growled, sitting up to wipe his mouth with the back of his robe sleeve.

“August,” she called but he only chuckled darkly, the cool blue of the fabric cascading around him.

She felt so exposed. Here she was, completely naked, and yet he hadn’t even begun to undress. It felt cold, final, and sickening. Her eyes roved his body, looking for more skin, anything to keep her close to him at this moment, but he was so carefully tucked away.

“August,” she said again and he shook his head.

“That’s not my name,” he argued.

Her eyebrows knit together, and she reached forward, needing now more than ever to touch him. She was drowning fast in the night, the blue robes sweeping over both their bodies as he leaned closer, finally letting her grip his forearm as she groped around. He was drifting from her in one way or another, his body a boat on the water that was capsizing her under his waves.

“I–I can’t. I can’t see you. I–.” A rush of white hot panic surged into her throat, constricting her words. As she began drowning, August moved quickly, disrobing himself and pulling her into his embrace. She gasped for air as she wrenched out a heavy sob, her nipples stroking the soft hairs on his chest, yet she ignored the sensation instead for the thing she needed more: his heartbeat.

There, in his chest, was the melodic thrum that sought to calm her erratic one, calling her home to him in the cold night air.

“Breathe, Petal,” he commanded, and she felt a rush of air fall from her lungs as she remembered once more to do the most simple of human tendencies. His arms laced around her back, where the soft tracing of his fingers along her spine brought her back into herself.

“I’m sorry,” she cried, a prick of tears falling despite her best efforts to appear unaffected.

He hummed in response.

“Stay with me,” he whispered, and she felt her joints loosen as she molded herself further into his embrace.

“I want to,” she replied, voice unsteady. “Sugar, please just hold me.”

He melted into her, a pool of warmth overtaking him as he absorbed her nickname. He kissed her forehead, her temples, everywhere his mouth could spread some of the sweetness.

After long, she hummed a satisfied sound through her lips, and her hips began rocking against him. He laid her back down, his eyes searching hers before the corner of his mouth ticked into a smirk.

“You with me?” he asked, his smirk becoming a full grin as she bucked further toward him, desperate and wanting. He was back, the ever-changing prince who within a blink of an eye could transform the room into his sensual paradise.

August’s hand skimmed up her calf and back between her thighs, resting up against her heat.

“August,” she panted, and he chuckled darkly, the scar over his eye almost glowing in the moonlight.

“I told you that’s not my name,” he warned, sliding his fingers into her wet folds.

“Seokjin,” you said, his name caught in your throat as he continued moving.

“Good girl,” he coaxed, two of his fingers covering the edges of your clit as he began rolling it under his touch.

“Fuck.”

The wooden beams were gone. Now it was the familiar white plaster that you often looked at, trying to remember what constellations were above during what season, though you could never see the stars anyway in this part of the city.

Seokjin pulled himself up off the chamber bed, though the chamber was hazy, almost pixelated as you realized around you it was not the chamber of August and his beloved, but your small bedroom.

“Focus,” he commanded, and your eyes flashed over to Seokjin, who was naked and sweaty, his chest flush like it was when you’d seen him before. His fingers roamed over your calf and he lifted you leg at an angle, exposing your pussy to the cool air.

Seokjin licked his lips and began swirling his fingers around your clit, sending a jolt of pleasure through your body.

“You gonna be good for me?” he asked and you moaned an affirmative as you felt the first of his fingers tip into you.

“Nuh uh, use your words, Y/N.”

You opened your mouth to beg but found no words could come out. He cocked his head, confused. Seokjin reached over to touch your face. You felt nothing.

“What–”

The plop of the book hitting the floor jars you awake. At some point in reading, you must’ve dozed off, your world and the book world merging into a hot, overwhelming dream that has your heart racing.

He’s in your mind again, Seokjin. And it really is all your fault. Because you’ve spent the rest of your weekend and the first half of this week texting him with a plan to put this After Dark stream into place, an idea that you hadn’t really thought through before proposing to him.

You know you want this, to feel at ease in your body and confident to hold your own on streams. Especially since the option to quit is becoming less and less of an option. This week, your university confirmed your withdrawal, meaning that for the next few months you’ll be focusing on streaming and working more shifts at the restaurant to try and replenish your income for the summer term.

And that also means you’ll be seeing Seokjin a lot more often. Your stomach does a tiny flip just thinking about it.

Now with him being around you everywhere, all the time, your subconscious has been drifting to dreams of him, and every waking thought is somehow finding a way to wiggle him in. At the market this morning, you were walking through the produce section where you noticed a large pile of mangoes on sale. Does Seokjin like mangoes? you’d wondered. That shirt on the mannequin would look good on Seokjin. That dog looks like the one in the old picture in Seokjin’s office. What would Seokjin think about this recurring ad?

It’s becoming relentless. So much so that you also find yourself asking him random questions to take the edge off.

Me 1:47PM: Thoughts about fruit on pizza.

Seokjin 1:50PM: Are you asking because we are having pizza later?

Me 1:51PM: No I was just wondering

Me 1:51PM: Unless you want that later? I can get us some

Me 1:51PM: I’ll pay

Seokjin 1:51PM: No you will not! I’ll pay

Seokjin 1:53PM: Also depends on the kind of fruit

Seokjin 1:53PM: Never had blueberries on pizza.

Seokjin 1:54PM: But I would maybe try it. Pineapple is fine though.

Seokjin 1:55PM: I’ll pick up the pizza on the way over. Be there at 6.

Seokjin agreed to stop by today to do some roleplay exercises for you to practice before your stream later tonight. He thought it was important that you run through the full scale of situations you might be presented with so you could say no firmly but without risking losing your viewership, two things equally at odds with each other for you most of the time.

You look for your phone in the mess of your couch cushions, assuming that at some point in your impromptu nap, it slunk down between the crack. Sure enough, you find it nestled between two cushions, the comfort of its weight in your hand dismissing some of the panic when you see it’s only 4:30. He hasn’t texted, which means he hasn’t canceled.

You remember from his stream last week that he maintains a tempered persona, never giving too much or too little away to his viewers. He’d exuded such self control. Is he always like that?

You know he mostly keeps it together at work, but that amount of restraint shocks you. You’re always wondering what it is that will make him snap. Sure, you’ve seen him annoyed, or occasionally yelling at your coworkers, but never rageful. Never out of control. That just isn’t Seokjin.

Determined to keep your hands busy while you wait for him to arrive, you busy yourself tidying, though your apartment is scarily clear because you’ve been frantically cleaning all day. You walk into the kitchen, a small, narrow room that has never been very welcoming as a cooking space. Your old, banged up fridge has dents from where the door has opened too quickly and rocketed into the oven handle, leaving a jagged, metal scar on the surface.

When you’d first moved in, you didn’t understand how something could be so damaged, but within the first week, it became apparent how heavy and quickly the door swung into it, probably because the floors, and thus everything else, doesn’t sit exactly level in the space, meaning that everything that you bake comes out at an angle, and everything else always falls to one side of the pan, making things uneven. Every time you use your rolling pin, you have to place it on an oven mitt or else you risk it rolling into the large gap between the countertop and the wall.

Your apartment is one that you’ve done your best to uplift. While your kitchen is somewhat of a hellhole, with a buzzing fluorescent light that sounds almost like it’s mocking you when you dare to cook anything in it, the rest of your space has some sense of charm to it.

There’s a large window facing the back parking lot of the building, which some may find less exciting because it isn’t exuding some Instagram-worthy backdrop of urban living, but you benefit from the fact that there’s a large, undeveloped lot in your view, with some plum trees that will bloom in the next few weeks, and the soft chartreuse green that ushers in the early spring grasses is slowly starting to brighten in hue.

Some summer nights, you crack your window and hear the loud chattering of cicadas and birds as they rustle through the trees, and it helps to distract from the usual traffic noises that ricochet off the other buildings around you.

You have some small herbs growing on the windowsill, as well as some salvaged green onion ends you’d tossed into an empty yogurt pot with soil and let take off. A sad excuse for a dining table is propped against it with two mismatched chairs.

An oversized, well-loved, brown couch you got for a steal from one of those local posting groups takes up a large chunk of your living room, which will probably have to be sawed in half to get out of your space if you ever move. It weighs a ton and you can’t even shuffle it into a better angle toward your television, which has resulted in one side of the couch being further worn-down and frumpy from the creases of you sitting in the same spot day after day. The other side usually houses a variety of character plushies and a large pink knit blanket you swaddle yourself in regularly. Today, everything is given a place, and the blanket is folded and resting on the back of the couch.

The rest of your apartment is a collection of stuff: some mismatched bookshelves shoved into one corner with all your smutty reads and figurines, postcards and repurposed mailers you’ve collaged into some type of wall art, and Barry, your Big Mouth Bass that knows one song and one song only: “Take Me to the River”.

Due to your lack of space in your cozy apartment, your desk and gaming set-up are in your room. During streams, you tote out a collapsible green screen to give yourself at least some privacy, but behind the screen is your bed you’ve cluttered with some throw pillows, a dresser whose drawers are so warped they don’t fully close, the nightstand which hides your collection of sex toys, and that’s about it. As the months have progressed, your schoolwork has moved from being the main event on the desk to now being crammed into the shallow drawers beneath. Beyond that, your PC and streaming supplies take up the rest of the space in your room.

After fussing with everything for a whole ten minutes, you retreat from your bedroom, heading into the hellscape kitchen to stare at the groceries you’ve just bought.

A jar of kimchi, some beets, and a comically large bag of carrots you impulse bought greet you. You sigh. Yes, this is what you’ll have to do to make time pass. Pulling the items from the fridge, you shuffle around to gather your cutting board from its slot next to the microwave, and find your good knife set in the drawer.

One of the conditions you were given upon being hired at the restaurant was to purchase your own set of knives. “It teaches you how to respect the tools before you. Having pride in your knives ensures you’ll serve food with pride,” Mr. Kim had told you.

When you shared that knowledge with Seokjin he snorted. “It ensures you’ll not damage our own knives that he’s too cheap to replace is what he means.”

Regardless, you now own a decent quality set of cutting knives, perfect for what you need them for. You scrub and lightly peel the carrots to trim away the dirt and uneven shapes adorning the outside.

Then, you begin your setup, placing your cutting board with a kitchen towel near the end to catch any rollaway carrots you’re bound to encounter during your task. You snag a large bowl, a rubber jar grip to keep the cutting board in place, and your Chef’s knife from your knife set. You chop up the kimchi and beets, doing a tiny bit of prep by cutting those for later in the week. Then, you begin with the carrots.

You pull from the washed pile and grip your knife, and remember what Seokjin taught you: cut the rounded edge off the carrot so it sits flat on the board. You slice again, then again, stacking the pieces before cutting in the next direction until a pile of neat matchsticks lay before you.

No chaos erupting in the kitchen, no pieces flinging to the floor or a semi-concussion. Just you, the yellow glow of the humming light, and your carrots. You begin the next one. Then again. It’s almost addicting, like the affirmation that you are capable of this, of anything, has started to warm something inside of you.

When was the last time you felt this confident and assured? Felt like you were growing in the right direction? In school, you were used to doing fairly well and understanding the material, but this is different somehow. This is you seeing the results as they pile higher into the bowl. You reach for another and another, washing the rest of the carrots and scrubbing them before continuing. Your hands are now properly stained, the beet juice, gochugaru, and carrot juice making your hands look like you are bleeding, but you don’t care. The ache from your grip, the loud thumping at the door, they don’t mean anything in this moment when it’s you feeling the give of the vegetable as it splits into finer pieces.

“Y/N?!! HELLO ARE YOU OKAY?”

A familiar voice bellows from the hall, another sharp thunk hitting the metal door. Seokjin.

Your eyes rip to the clock on the oven. It’s already five minutes past six. You’ve been cutting carrots for about an hour.

Hastily, you rinse your hands, ignoring the sting as the cold water spurts from the faucet. You grab the kitchen towel off the oven handle, and rush to the door.

You barely have it unlocked before Seokjin barges in, two large pizza boxes and a six pack of beer in his hands as he steps over the threshold. He smells faintly of mint and eucalyptus.

Seokjin whips in your direction, scanning his eyes over your face and down your body.

“Are you hurt? Are you okay?” His eyes are wide, his pupils blown out as he fervently looks you up and down, gasping as he takes in your hands. “What happened?”

“What? No, no I’m fine!” You hold one hand up in his direction, taking the kitchen towel and rubbing it into your palm for good measure. “They’re stained. Um, I was cutting vegetables.”

His eyes flit to the direction of the kitchen, where the light is still on and buzzing, and you can just make out the chopping board on the counter. Now assured you’re not injured, Seokjin recovers, stepping out of his shoes and padding into the kitchen.

“Whoa, you really were going to town in here with the carrots weren’t you? I thought I could smell it on you.”

Your cheeks flood with heat. “Well, you said I had to practice.”

Seokjin chuckles, shaking his head in amusement before holding up the six pack. “Uh, I brought beer. I don’t know if you like it or not but I feel like it goes really well with pizza.”

You smile. “I’m not sure if getting me wasted is the solution to setting boundaries with my stream. Doesn’t alcohol lower your inhibitions?”

He cocks an eyebrow. “Are you planning on finishing off this entire six pack by yourself and getting trashed? Much less beer that is…” He squints at the packaging. “...four percent alcohol?”

You laugh. “No, I suppose not. Thank you.” You take the case from his hands and pluck two bottles from the cardboard before putting the rest in the fridge. Holding the cold bottle in your hands, you grimace.

“What’s wrong? Do you not like this brand?” Seokjin asks.

You shake your head. “No, it’s not that. Um, I don’t really drink often so I don’t actually own a bottle opener.”

Seokjin frowns and looks around your kitchen, grazing his hand along the chipped laminate counters. Then he takes the bottle in his hand and whacks it down on the counter edge on an angle. The cap pops off, a subtle wisp of fog puffing from the top. He smirks, proud. He gestures for you to hand him your bottle.

With ease, he pops off the second cap and deposits it back into your hands.

Your jaw hangs slack. “Wh-how did you do that?” you ask.

He chuckles. “There’s a science to it, angles. I’m just glad I didn’t take a chunk of the counter with me. I’ve done that before.”

“And you risked my counter top just now?”

He snorts. “Come on, did anything happen? A little bit of trust would be nice, Y/N.” He glances at the giant bowl of cut carrots. “Well, you’ve certainly improved. What are you going to make with all those?”

You pull your lips into a thin line. You hadn’t thought about it. Your silence seems to tip Seokjin off to that as well, because after a sip of beer, he sets his bottle on the back end of the counter, rolling up his sleeves and scooting over to the sink to wash his hands.

“What are you doing?” you ask.

“Cooking,” he replies simply. “Do you have flour? Green onions?”

You nod. “Okay, get those. I’ll also need some soybean paste if you have it, vegetable oil, salt, and sugar.”

You furrow your brows. You know this recipe from the restaurant. “You’re making jeon? But, we already have pizza.”

“We can have the pizza as an appetizer. Jeon will be the main course.”

You laugh. “How much do you think I eat?”

“Not much. But you see, I am very hungry.” Heat shoots to your core. You glance over at Seokjin, who is looking at you amused as he squeezes the carrots between his hands to wring out the excess juice.

You didn’t really notice before, but Seokjin looks effortlessly cool, a loose pink linen button down framing his broad shoulders. He’s left the top two buttons undone, exposing the white t-shirt he wears underneath. Lighter wash jeans cover his strong thighs. If a stranger ever passed him on the street, they might think he’s too cool for them, too serious or vain.

But, there are notes of him everywhere in this outfit that suggests the break in the persona. One of the buttons in the middle of his shirt has popped open, a few hairs on the back of his head are cowlicked out of place, and on his feet are a pair of neon green Chikorita Pokemon socks. You find it impossible to hide your amusement.

“Ah, got it. Nice socks by the way,” you joke, trying to distract from the singing heat and close proximity. You can’t help but think about the last time you and Seokjin were in such confined spaces and how that ended up. “Didn’t know you were going to use your feet later to guide an airplane into landing.”

“Well, I figured it was a necessary backup in case your hands weren’t bright enough.” He nods toward you. You laugh.

“Touché.”

You open your upper cabinet. The paper bag of flour sits on the middle shelf, which you usually climb onto the counter to reach, but with Seokjin in the kitchen, there’s even less space than usual. You stretch, lifting onto your tiptoes. Your fingertips brush the bag, but it’s not enough to move it. As you try to angle yourself better, you see two large hands come above yours, Seokjin easily grabbing the flour off the shelf to set down onto the counter.

You feel his body heat behind you, his shirt brushing the small of your back from where your own rode up during your stretch, and a swell of goosebumps rise on your arms from the gentle tickle.

“There,” Seokjin says softly into your ear, almost breathless. “Don’t want to have any more kitchen related incidents, do we?” Too soon, he moves away, his warmth, the subtle note of his cologne fading into the smell of the green onions he’s set next to your not-so-glorious prep space.

Suddenly, he scoffs. You turn toward him. “What?”

“Really, Y/N? Have you learned nothing?” The heat in your core immediately dissipates, welcoming a familiar sour stroke of shame as you try to put together what you’ve missed. How did you fuck this up? What haven’t you learned? When you focus on what he’s pointing at, you realize he isn’t angry. He’s teasing you.

Your knife is unsheathed on the cutting board, abandoned in your haste to let him in. “When are you ever going to learn basic kitchen safety?” he laughs. The prick of embarrassment dissolves, Seokjin’s laugh soothing the ache.

You smile and shrug. “In my defense, I didn’t have the time to put it away or in the sink because you were disturbing the peace by practically breaking my door down.”

He rolls his eyes and sighs. “Well excuse me for wanting to ensure your safety. Now where’s that soybean paste?”

Seokjin had been sitting on, or practically in your couch for the last twenty minutes as you ran through various scenarios and questions you were likely to experience while streaming. Your old couch was comfy, but as you’d practiced longer, he felt he was shrinking, the cushions settling further and further down. That, he thought, was probably going to hurt to climb out when the time came.

Despite the size and outdated condition your apartment was in, he was fascinated with how you’d chosen to decorate it, as if everything had its own place. You had an impressive collection of colorful books on a bookshelf, framed in with little knick-knacks and figurines of your favorite characters or collectibles. One large sunny window was decorated with stickers that acted as prisms, sending rainbow beams across your floor at a certain point in the day. A photo of a very young you and two people he assumed were your parents leaning against a guard rail over a canyon was framed and hung next to a giant plastic fish.

No, you didn’t have much. It was clear you’d thrifted or trash picked most of the furniture in your apartment, with the exception of your computer setup. You’d taken him into your bedroom to show him what system you used, how you’d built your system based on the specifications of your mod, who Seokjin now knew, was also your best friend Wonwoo.

But Seokjin couldn’t help but revel in how well cared for and cozy this small place was, so different from the cold floors of his own apartment. It reminded him of the tiny place he used to live in with his parents. It was familiar, safe.

When he’d come in, he did worry something was wrong. You weren’t one to not answer, attentive in the restaurant to everyone, often whipping your head in someone’s direction the second you heard the first sound of your name slip through someone’s lips. When you didn’t answer, he’d wondered if you’d been injured or worse. As much as he tried not to judge your building, he was a little concerned about the safety precautions put in place. He’d walked straight in, no lock on the front door, no door man. Everyone’s names were blatantly listed on their mailboxes. If anyone wanted to find you, it wouldn’t be hard to do so.

But you were fine, and the acrid worry that had bloomed in him during those five minutes of you not answering had dissolved once he saw your bright smile, and the even brighter colored stains on your hands.

They were still blotchy, though a few runs under the sink with dish soap was helping them fade. As you feathered a hand through your hair, he found himself grinning. The fact that you had acquired a bulk bag of carrots and used them for practice was so endearing to him. He never doubted your dedication to work, but the fact that you were using the techniques he taught you in your kitchen had brightened something in Seokjin he hadn’t even known felt dark.

And he also couldn’t ignore the sense of pride he had as you practically moaned into the jeon you two had made together, the crispy texture and roll of hot oil over your tongue invoking something in you Seokjin couldn’t help but be drawn to. You loved to eat. It was one of the first things he noticed about you, and as creepy as it sounded, also what stoked those first wisps of attraction.

You loved food the way he did, without care, or at least without care the way most people who he was raised around cared. No, you didn’t eat a lot, but when you did, you were all in, bare hands sticky after eating peaches, their juice dribbling down your chin and forearms, joyful hums when you bit into your favorite crunchy snacks from the convenience store.

He remembered growing up the ways in which women, even his mother, were almost afraid of food, afraid of how they would spend hours in the kitchen making heaps of it, pounds of fresh kimchi, grilled fish, decadent soups with tofu and mushrooms and packets of ramyeon, and yet when it was time to eat, they were too busy too or suddenly not hungry, or they would eat a few bites and excuse themselves from the table to clean up.

It was sad, really. Because Seokjin ate and ate fully, and maybe because he wasn’t a woman he didn’t need to worry about his body that way, or maybe because he always had some insane metabolism that didn’t impose weight like it did with others, but it never hit him the same. He loved food.

And clearly so did you, delighted in the meal he gave you, even eliciting a groan as you washed down a bite with your beer. It was like you were grateful for every bite of food that ever entered your mouth.

“You were right. This does taste better together,” you said. He was practically beaming.

He glanced down at the pile of jeon. They weren’t bad, but they were a little uneven. While cooking, he’d noticed that something was a bit off about your kitchen. Your oven and everything else were a bit titled, and it pooled the jeon batter toward one end, making them thicker on one side and harder to cook properly. Your fridge door also was dented, having the similar issue of the weight pushing things to one side. He made a mental note to shove some cardboard under the floor pegs later to help level the appliances.

Your counter situation, though, he couldn’t help. You would just have to keep with your barricade at the end to avoid rolling. But you seemed to be savvy in how you solved the various erroneous features of your apartment, making the best of what you had.

In fact, as Seokjin sat in the crook of your massive couch, he noticed why this side was so sunken; it was the only spot you could actually see the TV from this angle. He wondered if he could shuffle it a little bit more in a better view while you were streaming later, or if you would even notice.

You hovered next to the couch, your bottom lip worried between your teeth. You were nervous about something.

“What is it?” He asked. The time for your stream was growing nearer, and he’d promised he would stay for at least the first half, setting up his laptop in your living room.

“What am I doing?” you groaned and flopped down on the floor, a frustrated wail muffling into the carpet.

“Testing yourself and growing. Listen, Y/N, you know you don’t have to do this, but we’ve been over it daily at this point. You want more money and this is what you’ve decided is the most viable option. After-Dark type streams do make a lot more money, you want to exercise more freedom with yourself, do I need to go on?”

You shook your head. Seokjin chuckled.

“Okay, so–yah, sit up!” You bolted off the carpet and folded your legs underneath you.

“So, you know I’m going to be out here if you need anything. If you need me, I’m just on the other side of that door. Also, we’ve been practicing, right?”

“I know, I just…I’m not like you. I’m not confident, I’m not really easygoing or likable like you are. I can’t dom–command a room or everyone’s attention with my charisma how you can. I’m worried that if I don’t give people what they ask for, they’re just going to leave.”

Seokjin scoffed. He knew that on the outside, in the context of work that you were used to seeing him in, he appeared in charge and control at all times. It was part of the job, to be well tempered and fair and even, maintain a sense of friendliness but firmness, it was common sense. But much of his advice today wasn’t coming from that version of him you knew. A lot of this was insight and experience he’d gained as Jin, who he needed to be to ensure he was meeting his tip goals, or needing to remind everyone he was the one in charge, not them.

Even at work last week, when Seokjin needed to call the distributor because there was some issue with a shipment of produce, it was Jin he was channeling to make the call. If it were Seokjin, he would have been a sweaty, nervous mess. Jin was business, Jin was the one who laid down the law. Seokjin himself?

He was the youngest Kim son, the one who, when his parents’ friends and family members thought he wasn’t listening, gossiped about. Why wasn’t he married? Didn’t he have that fiancée for a while? Oh she had a baby with another man? His boss? Well surely that has been long enough now, right? He had another girlfriend, or found some other salaryman career. At 30, it would be kind of sad if his life wasn’t going anywhere.

And that’s where Seokjin was, after all. Single, a sex worker, or temporary restaurant manager. This morning he’d received a text in the family group chat from his brother with a photo of his nephew kissing his sister-in-law’s bump. He loved his nephew, he loved his brother and was happy for their little family. But he also felt hollow as he opened that picture, like some part of him knew he was never going to truly get to have that for himself.

“Hey,” he said, and your eyes flitted from the floor back to him. “First of all, if they leave they leave, right? Those aren’t the people you want to be on your streams because their energy sucks and they’ll just keep asking more of you. Second,” he cleared his throat, “you are likable. Otherwise you wouldn’t be in this position in the first place, having viewers and subscribers. There has to be a part of you that is genuine there, otherwise everyone will know you’re lying and move away from you. Don’t they say something about how all the best lies are rooted in truth?”

“But I’m not trying to lie to them,” you said meekly.

Seokjin internally kicked himself for saying that. Perhaps suggesting that you lie to everyone wasn’t the best move.

“I know, I mean, that you don’t offer all of yourself, but offer the parts of you that you know are there that are stable. And for the rest of it, fake it until you make it. Until you can feel confident as a streamer, able to set boundaries. Pretend you’re someone else. The person you want to be.” he amended.

Jin was some of the best parts of Seokjin. Maybe even better. Self-assured, knowledgeable about sex and sexuality in ways he hadn’t been when he was with Soon Yi, he could say no to things he’d never been able to say no to his boss about, and things he couldn’t say no to now because the restaurant wasn’t technically his. There were things he could do, ways he could slip some power in there or make decisions, but nothing was really his. Not the way streaming was. That was all for him. And while yes, his friends knew he did it and supported him in their own way (thankfully most of them did not tune in but on occasion Jungkook and Taehyung would hop on when completely wasted to goad him to “release the beast”), it was still a success that couldn’t be shared publicly, even though he didn’t really want to share it anyway, and didn’t really feel successful.

“Is that what you did? Faked it until you made it? Until you were the person you wanted to be?”

His blood ran cold. Were you reading his thoughts? Did you know?

“W-what?”

Oh god, what if you knew? Seokjin would rush out into the night and dig his own grave. Because if anyone else knew what he did, if his parents found out or his brother or you, he was sure he would become the worst parts of himself. A failure again. Once more someone to be quietly gossiped about in rooms when he was in full range of hearing what they had to say. He couldn’t imagine anything more humiliating than you seeing him, your own boss, with a bright pink dildo shoved up his ass as he pandered to thousands of people with whimpers and cries. Especially when he just spent the better half of an hour telling you that you didn’t need to pander to anyone.

Would you think less of him for it? Would you ask him why he was doing gay streaming of all things? His face flushed, probably turning incredibly red with embarrassment.

“With the restaurant,” you said.

He swallowed the thick lump that had formed in his throat and coughed.

“Y-yes,” he stammered. “What you see there. It’s not really me all the time. I’m not always all that confident. But I want to be.”

You nodded quietly and stretched your arms over your head. “That makes sense,” you said as you began to pace. “Okay.”

You still had another two hours before your stream was set to start, and Seokjin could tell you were still on edge. He took a deep breath when you turned away, letting the rush of air into his lungs help cool his face.

“Seokjin?” you asked.

“Yeah?”

“Will you stay until it’s over? I know it’ll be late, and it’s a big ask, but maybe we can eat leftover pizza and debrief?”

He smiled. “Of course.”

He couldn’t imagine a better way to spend his night, and probably early morning if he was honest. Your streams could go well into the wee hours of the morning, and while tomorrow while opening he’d probably be kicking himself for this, right now he didn’t care about anything except the warm tug he felt in his chest as he imagined the two of you sitting on the floor with cold pizza and laughter at 3a.m.

“Thank you. Also, do you think we could have another beer or something? I need to take the edge off. I know I’m overthinking it but I need something to distract me before this stream or I might not show up.”

You didn’t wait for his permission, probably because you weren’t asking for it. You slid into the kitchen and back out with two more cold beers.

“Will you show me how to open these again? I want to try.”

Seokjin struggled a bit against the dip of your couch, but eventually found himself level and close to you, so close in fact that the soft scent of your shampoo was once again permeating his nostrils.

You were intoxicating to him, honestly, and he found himself unable to help himself as he squeezed behind you in your tiny kitchen, inhaling partially into your hair as he walked you through the process.

You fiddled with the bottle for a second, holding yourself at an awkward angle.

“Like this?”

If you did it at this angle, you would be sure to cause the beer to explode, the cap wouldn’t get enough traction to pop off easily.

“Not unless you want to participate in a wet t-shirt contest,” he joked before he even realized how sexually charged that comment was.

You inhaled a little sharply.

He cleared his throat. “Anyway, you’re a little stiff here.” Then, very carefully, he rested his hands onto your hips, gently maneuvering you so you were able to prop your arm up and out of his way so you wouldn’t elbow him in the ribs when you slammed the bottle down.

He kind of hated himself when he had to let go of your waist. His fingers were tingling simply from brushing them along the seam of your shirt, from feeling the warm curve of your hip under his fingers. Why did his hands feel so at home on your body?

Your sharp movement pushed him out of his reverie as you launched the bottle down onto the counter top, the soft plink and your sparkling eyes confirming you were successful.

That’s my girl, he thought. Only you weren’t his girl. You couldn’t be further from his. And as soon as he thought it, he also felt the soft ache in his chest knowing that you would probably never be his. Because you couldn’t. Because you were without a doubt too good for him, and Seokjin knew all that stood between you and the right guy was time. An opportunity. You walk into the right place some day and then boom, there he will be.

He fucking hated that guy already.

You popped the second cap from the bottle and turned around, shoving your body directly into him as you beamed with pride. “See! I did it!” You looked so adorable, your eyelashes long and fluttering as you gazed up at him.

A smile cracked through his gloom. You were like a little sunbeam to him.

“You did,” he acknowledged, and he took the bottle you offered, taking a swig. He waited for you to make the next move, to dislodge your body from the cramped corner of the kitchen, for the magnetic pull of your body to signal it was too close, too intimate so one of you would break away.

But neither of you did. In fact you sighed and moved closer to him, forcing the small of Seokjin’s back to rest up against the handle bar of the oven. It wasn’t comfortable at all, but he didn’t dare move.

“Can I ask you something?” You asked quietly after a while, staring down at the bottle.

“Sure,” he responded.

You nibbled your bottom lip then sighed again, unsure. He felt your warm exhale hit his forearms. Did you really not realize how close you were to him? The smell of you, even that tiny hit of beer breath, was starting to drive him insane.

You shifted yourself even closer.

“Um, it’s going to sound embarrassing to ask this but I just have to.”

Your voice was low now, a tiny whisper coming out of you. Fuck, you were perfect.

“Go ahead,” he whispered back, smirking. “I won’t judge you.”

“Okay, um. Are you…are you bi?”

“Am I by what?”

You fidgeted uncomfortably and pulled back slightly. You raised your eyebrows.

“No, not by as in near, I mean bi as in like, you know, bisexual?” You shifted your gaze away, and then Seokjin felt the question sink in.

He was such a fucking idiot.

God, this is one of the most awkward interactions you’ve ever had in your life and you feel yourself getting hotter and more embarrassed by the second.

Standing in your tiny cramped kitchen, you decided now for no good reason was the best time to ask Seokjin if he’s bisexual. Or really if he’s gay. Because you need to know. Need answers. Or a confirmation that will help kill this crush for good because as of tonight? It’s much, much worse.

Something about watching him cook earlier, specifically in your kitchen, did something to you. The way he touched your hips to show you how to do that beer opening trick, how he looked slumped into your couch, the way he hovered over your bookshelves and belongings with curiosity, and laughed hysterically over Barry once he pressed the button.

He fits here. In your apartment. It isn’t just some stupid fantasy version of him you could imagine. He is real and beautiful and fits into this corner of your life like a perfect puzzle piece.

And if he’s gay, if there’s no chance that he can give you even the fantasy of this, then it all needs to stop. But it’s also so unfair for you to ask this of him. What if he’s not out? What if you’re forcing him to come out and no one knows and all because your insatiable horniness led you to a gay streaming site where you found him now his livelihood and privacy are technically in jeopardy?

Fuck. You can’t do that to him. And suddenly you’re aware of what you just did, how uncool this was for you to just out and ask. Heat claws into your throat as you sit in this shock of silence, clamping down on your airway and leaving your voice in a reedy wheeze as you try to take back your inquiry.

“I–I’m sorry, you don’t need to answer! I’m out of line. Really, I shouldn’t have even asked. Jesus, I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” you splutter, heart beating erratically, a line of perspiration beginning to form at the back of your neck at an insane speed. How humiliating.

“Whoa, whoa, it’s okay. Relax. Breathe,” Seokjin says. You force a ragged inhale but find yourself coughing, gasping to try to find air in this room that is too small and a million degrees warmer.

You are standing in the hallway outside of the bathroom, rasping for air into your lungs. Your mother has just come home from work, shouting about how you haven’t remembered to take the chicken out of the freezer or done any of the chores she’d asked you to while she was gone.

The day has gotten away from you, a hot summer that is so oppressive no one even wants to go outside. You would get all she asked of you done and more before she returned home. The chicken would be thawed, you’d vacuum and mop the floors, would even wipe down the bathroom sink from all the hair she and your father left in it during his morning shave.

And then you would go to your friend’s house tonight, for the sleepover you’ve been dreaming of, eat lots of candy that her father would bring home from work that yours never let you have. You could tell her about the boy whose parents own the convenience store at the end of the street, and how all summer you’ve been finding an excuse to run up to the shop with your allowance to get a pack of gum or snacks or a can of iced tea you would have to chug outside before you even walked home anyway.

You start junior high this fall. Your period started this spring. Everything around you is changing. Your legs are stocky and getting fuller. Hair is starting to grow everywhere. Your breasts are no longer flat on your chest and while you know all of this is happening, you know why and what is going to happen, that doesn’t change how awful all this feels. Your baby fat isn’t baby fat anymore, and the oils of your skin, your hair, your smell? It all is changing so fast and you hate it. You want to hide. And at least having this boy down the street to talk to, Wonwoo, who makes you feel less like you want to crawl outside of yourself.

Him, and all the books you’ve been reading. Ones where they’re older, girls who you’ll be like soon. Who go to school, and date and have families with problems just like your family has problems. Who run into the woods and fall in love with other families. Who find belonging. There’s comfort there, and that’s why despite all your promises to make the house clean for your mom this morning, you forgot. Because you’d fallen into the world of your book.

And now, your mother has told you that you can’t go to your sleepover anymore. Can’t get away from the house and the heat and your body and the ongoing argument you know your parents are having about finances that they shout about when you’re in the shower and they think you can’t hear them. You can’t eat fun secret snacks or talk about boys or pretend for a second that this isn’t your life. Because it is.

Your throat closes up, the dim lights of the hallway outside the bathroom feel like they’re flickering.

“I told you. I reminded you multiple times! Now we don’t have dinner. Unless you’d like to think of something?” She strips off her stockings, balling them up in her fist. “Unless you want to go out there and buy some expensive meal for us tonight?”

Shame. This is it in its purest form. How wrong you are for not helping. For spending the whole day in your fantasy world with your new friends, ones who aren’t real. All your mother asked for was such simple things, and yet you are unable to just do what she asks.

“When your father gets home, you can tell him why there’s no dinner ready.”

Hot tears sting your eyes and you gasp for air. Your father? If he’s having a hard day today, if his boss or his co-workers didn’t recognize him for that presentation he spent all those late nights at the dinner table preparing, you know how this will end. Your father is a fair man, but even he has his limits.

And sometimes that means that the things you love, the things that you covet, they go missing. Precious dolls that you’ve had over the years have disappeared when you were being careless with them, leaving them around in the hallway for him to step on. Once, you left your birthday gift from your aunt, a purple Skip-It, on the sidewalk during a Spring rain shower and when you went to bring it in, it had vanished.

You’d found it in the garbage bin, the ankle loop and cord snapped into pieces.

When your father gets home, he’ll go for your book. He knows just which one it is. You had started it last night and he asked you about it.

You push off the wall of the hallway, swallowing the bile down your throat. You have to hide it, to take it somewhere.

You want to leave. Your eyes dart around the room. Anywhere but here, you can’t let him see how much more embarrassing it is now that he knows you’re anxious. A lump in your throat continues to constrain the air. You can feel your pulse in it, pulling acid up from the depths of your stomach.

You rip another breath from your chest and try to propel yourself across the room, across the universe, but your feet won’t budge. Your muscles are locked in this bump of panic, leaden and unyielding.

Somewhere in the fuzziness, Seokjin has moved but already returned, and you feel a set of cool hands on your cheeks as he comes into focus, gently stroking behind your ears and saying something to you.

“–ow that it’s hard but I need you to breathe, Y/N. Breathe with me. Can you do that?”

His face is concerned, and it twists your stomach even further. He shouldn’t be doing this. You should remember how to fucking breathe on your own. But then again, isn’t that why he’s here anyway? Because you can’t do shit on your own? Can’t hold boundaries, can’t stay in school or keep it together. Can’t live somewhere nicer where you don’t smell the stomach-turning stench of the sink’s old plumbing next to you, metallic and stale. And definitely can’t even remember how to mind your business or breathe like a person.

You rush down the hall, into the living room, snapping the book off the couch. You shove it behind a cushion.

Your father walks in the door, and from the look on his face, you can tell the presentation didn’t go well.

“What’s all this?” he snaps, and gestures to the left-out vacuum and the bucket of water you’d gathered earlier. All the bubbles from the soap have long popped, leaving a heavy, sickening floral scent in the room from the solution.

“I, oh–”

“Your daughter spent all day reading instead of doing her chores. So unless you have a McDonald’s hamburger in your briefcase, we have nothing for dinner.” Your mother interjects, huffing as she heads into your parents bedroom and slams the door behind her.

Your father’s eyes narrow, and this is how it begins. He and your mother slamming, stomping, hitting, and crashing in every interaction they have with an inanimate object around you.

He chucks his suitcase onto the table of the small dining area, then whips open the fridge door a few feet away.

“Y/N, come here.”

You tiptoe in behind him, needing desperately to do the opposite of him, to show that you aren’t mad that they’re mad. That you understand exactly what you did wrong.

But it doesn’t matter, does it? They’re going to show you anyway. He moves aside and you peer into the fridge.

“What do you see in there?” he asks, restrained.

“Um, some celery, lettuce, dressing, milk…”

He growls, indicating that this isn’t the right answer. You’re wrong again. “Food, Y/N. This is food. That your mother and I work hard to put on the table so you can sit around and read your books. Food that needs to be eaten. Do you understand?”

You say nothing. You know the question is rhetorical.

“So, when we ask so little of you to simply take the food out of the freezer or fridge and thaw it, how can it be so hard? Hm? Here let me show you.”

He reaches in, and begins pulling and pulling the veggies, marinades, dressings, milk, eggs, cheeses and meats, and crowding the counter top. You’re frozen, unable to walk away, to ask him to stop.

When he’s done, he looks at you.

“See? Not so hard, huh? And if you were helpful to us, none of this would have happened. Honestly, your selfishness sometimes,” he says. “Now, go get me that book of yours. I think you know you haven’t earned it right now.”

You should go peel it out from under the couch cushions. Should hand it to him, then put all the groceries back away, because you know he’s not going to do it with you here. You should apologize. Accept punishment.

But instead, you’re nauseous and shaking and sobbing.

He waits expectedly. And then he shoves past you to your room, beginning to hunt through your clothes on the floor, under your bed.

“Where is it Y/N?”

You don’t follow him. Instead, you run. You grab the book from behind the cushion, shove your shoes onto your feet and run into the heat of the ending day with it in your hands, the heat from the sidewalk still boiling up underneath you.

Your parents don’t run out the door or into the street behind you. They stay in your home, possibly putting it back together. But you don’t care. You run, until you see the light of the convenience store and your lungs feel like they’re going to collapse.

Inside the cool air, Wonwoo is helping his father place drinks from their crates into the refrigerator. His eyes are wide as you plow in.

You have so much you want to tell him, so much worry in your chest. Your cheeks are hot and your body is sweaty. Nothing is coming out. Just the hum of the fridges, and Wonwoo’s father rushing to get his mother.

“Are you okay?” Wonwoo asks, and you can’t do anything to answer, just stare at his soft face as you well up with tears. You shove the book toward him wordlessly.

“Y/N, what’s going on?” he asks again, and you inhale steeply but choke on the air. A bubble of saliva clods your tongue.

“Please, take this. Hide it,” you urge. He holds his hands out and takes the book.

“Um, okay. Tuck Everlasting, I’ve never read this one.” He looks back up at you and winces.

“Hey, hey, breathe Y/N. You need to breathe.”

Seokjin is standing in front of you, coaxing breaths from you, wasting his time after cooking you dinner like it’s something you deserve. Like you’re not just doing all of this anyway because you can’t control yourself to not have feelings for him. Tears singe your eyes and you gasp another shallow breath.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay. I’m not mad. I promise I’m not mad.” Seokjin breaks through your thoughts, his voice gentle, and almost like he hears you in this silent exchange, some constant that is numbing this spiral. You feel yourself inhale a little more fully as you understand he’s not upset or annoyed. “Good, you’re doing good. Let’s breathe another breath, okay?”

You can’t look away. Even if you wanted to, Seokjin’s touch is keeping you focused completely on him, his soft and kind eyes, his plush lips that he’s holding in a slight frown that won’t shake. One that you can tell is worry.

“Another breath, sweetheart. Good, good girl. That’s really good, Y/N. Okay, keep doing that for a second okay?” One hand releases from your cheek, and you find yourself pressing harder into the other, needing him to touch you and keep guiding you back, needing that security of him.

He doesn’t move it away, in fact he pushes himself closer, holds the weight of you in his palm tenderly, and then you see in your periphery what he moved to get: a glass of water.

“I want you to take three small sips of this for me, okay? Slowly.” He holds the rim of the cup up to your lips, tilting it slightly. You open your mouth slightly, letting a trickle of cold water flood into the hot cavern of your mouth, extinguishing so much of the tight, fiery panic that moves through the rest of your body.

You do as he says, sipping and swallowing slowly until he pulls the glass away and sets it down behind you.

“You with me?” he whispers, and you breathe.

“Yes,” you say.

“Can I touch your arm?”

You’re not sure why he’s asking, so you knit your brow and gaze up at him, confused.

“What?”

“Can I touch your arm? I want to move us out of the kitchen and into your bedroom if that’s okay?” His voice is still quiet, and you realize that the hum of the light is so loud it’s almost drowning him out, almost drowning you again.

Your eyes flash wide and you nod. You see him relax a little, and slowly Seokjin untangles the web of your bodies away from the kitchen, into the cool air of your living room. Why is it so cold?

Seokjin guides you through it, and through the doorway to your bedroom. Before you even realize it, he’s unbuttoning his pink shirt and draping it over you.

“Is this okay? You’re shaking.”

You go to tell him yes, of course it’s okay, and then notice your teeth are gritted tight from trying not to chatter.

You take another breath. “Yes,” you squeak.

He pulls down the duvet and gestures for you to sit. “I’m going to put this blanket on you so I can help you warm up.” You feel the soft, heavy weight and start to feel a little better. But without Seokjin holding you, tethering you back into your body, you feel like you might float away any second. You shoot him a panicked look and he seems to understand, drawing the blanket back so he is also swaddled in it, the two of you knee to knee as he pinches the blanket closed with his fist.

“You can touch me if you’d like,” he says, and this, you realize, is what you need.

You immediately shift forward, putting your face into his white t-shirt, inhaling that minty, fresh cologne he wears. You can feel his chest rising and falling slowly, evenly, and you match your breathing to his, hoping soon your heartbeat slows to the same rate. Your hands twist into his shirt but it’s not enough. You find one of his hands and take it, lacing your fingers together and resting them in your lap.

The heaviness is nice, stabilizing, but you know you still need something more.

“Seokjin?” Your voice sounds foreign to you.

“Yeah?”

“Will you hold me for a minute?”

His hand untangles from yours and he moves to place it around your back, but with you two cross legged and facing each other, it’s an awkward embrace.

“I’m sorry, this is such a weird position. If you’re okay with it, you can sit in my lap? If you want? And then I can just hold you for a second?”

You nod and sit up, unfolding your legs and wiggling yourself up so you are on his lap. You wrap your legs around his back, then your arms. And then you feel his arms around you, his fingers lazily tracing the length of your spine.

You feel yourself sinking deeper back into the safety of your body.

You both sit like this for a long time. So long that you feel yourself starting to grow hazy and sleepy. Seokjin is warm and soft and so soothing. You feel like you’re untangling from a sharp web that has been trapping you for a long time. And when your alarm for your stream goes off, you turn off your phone.

“You okay?” Seokjin asks and you huff out a sigh.

“Yeah, I’m sorry for all the dramatics.” You slide yourself out of his grip and flop back onto your bed, propping yourself up on your elbow.

“What do you mean? You weren’t being dramatic, Y/N, you had a panic attack.”

“Yeah, over asking you a highly personal question I shouldn’t have asked. I’m sorry for that too.”

“I’m not-it’s-look. Panic attacks aren’t ever just one thing. It’s always a compounding of stress and anxiety and other thoughts and feelings. You just came across the one thought or feeling that forced everything to collapse. And I can guess based on how much you’re apologizing, it was probably you doing that shit inside and beating yourself up that knocked all the rest of this stuff down. I told you, I’m not mad. Or insulted that you asked.”

He goes on. “Which, by the way, I’m not bi or gay. I’m very straight. But that’s not the point. The point is, you have nothing to be ashamed of. You asked me a question. I have a right to choose to answer it or not. So there’s your answer. And also, you are never dramatic to me. Panic attacks are fucking scary; you felt like you were dying, right?”

You nod. “Drowning, yeah.”

He gives you a sympathetic smile. “Yeah, those things are no joke. But you came out on the other side of it.”

“Not without your help though. You seem like you know a lot about these when they happen. Do you get them too?”

He flushes. “Uh, no, I don’t personally. My friend Yoongi has them sometimes. He taught me a lot about how to help him with them. The cold water trick really is from him. And then also when Soon Yi and I were together, she would have them, but those were a bit different.” He looks down at his hands.

Soon Yi. So that’s her. The person Seokjin has often stopped himself talking about. The one who his parents would occasionally refer to as “that woman” during shifts when he wasn’t around. No one ever said her name, almost like she was some kind of curse and you always were curious why. You assumed she must be the devil incarnate the way his mother would sling a bunch of insults after she was mentioned, but the way Seokjin now says her name so casually, so personally, you aren’t entirely sure if he sees her that way.

Parents usually carry a greater grudge than their child who was hurt. Your own father has told you on various occasions that the guy you dated for one summer in undergrad, who coincidentally is his barber’s nephew, will never be allowed in his house ever again. Forget the fact that there’s no reason he would be invited over in the first place. Whenever you’re catching up with your parents on the phone, if he has recently visited his barber, he’s sure to bring it up. “Scum is never allowed in my house! He will just drag his filth in with him!”

Thinking of your father and mother right now forces you to wince. Maybe it’s the freshness of these memories, of you realizing now that what happened to you that day as a child wasn’t you being dramatic, as they had insisted even after you’d gotten home. Everything had been put back into place when you’d returned after the sunset, even the bucket and vacuums put away. Your parents never apologized or talked about it again.

And your friend, she didn’t talk to you after that either, claiming you were flaky and rude for blowing her off.

Your father doesn’t even refer to your ex by name, similar to Seokjin’s mother. “That Woman”. “Scum”. If there was ever a name tied to these people, it’s clearly gone in the haze of whatever angry frenzy your parents carry. “Scum” also didn’t even do anything wrong. You broke things off with him, but because you came home crying after the breakup, now that is his legacy.

But Seokjin’s mother, how she behaves, you’re not sure that it’s for the same reasons. You’ve seen firsthand how much she adores her children, and “adoration” is a word you aren’t so sure applies to your family.

Soon Yi, too, it’s clear she was not just a blip on the screen in Seokjin’s life. The hushed, angry chatter between his parents, the way his mother would often get so worked up she would start punching her shoulder and clicking her tongue, saying she needed to go sit down. That’s not a Scum-level relationship. You wonder how close she was to Seokjin. Closer than you two are becoming, clearly.

“Soon Yi,” you repeat to yourself, still lost in the haze of putting things together.

“Um, my ex.” Seokjin says, and you feel heat rise in your cheeks as you realize he heard you. “We were engaged. For a while.”

“Oh.”

You want to ask how long he means by a while? Did they break up right before you joined the restaurant? Or was this from many years ago? It’s odd in a way to think of how Seokjin has lived a completely different life from the time before you knew him. He loved someone, enough to marry them, to start a life together, to know she had panic attacks and how to help her.

Did he place her in his lap the same way he did with you? Did he sit with her in the dull winter light of their bedroom and talk like this?

He had to have. Why wouldn’t he? Your stomach dips. Were you under some impression that this thing you’re experiencing–the closeness of his body, the soft thrum of his heart, that tiny whistle in his throat that breaks through the room as he speaks–would be special?

The dim light of the lamp on your bedside table makes the deep browns of his eyes look even darker, and he watches you as you stretch your legs out in front of you, your foot shifting a bit to rest up against his thigh. His eyes flicker toward it and then back to you.

“How, when did you guys break up? I didn’t know you were engaged,” you ask gently. He sighs, and then slumps a bit, the careful, rigid posture he was holding for so long finally loosening a bit with his exhale. He bends his knees and pulls his legs up, glancing to the other side of your bed.

You pat the spot next to you, turning over so he knows it’s no imposition.

And it’s not, not in the slightest. If you weren’t so fried and exhausted after that panic attack, your brain might try to imbue some innuendo into this moment, but for now, this is all you can do, and you want that ache in your stomach to go away. You want to feel like this is special.

Seokjin flops down into the pile of oddball plushies and pillows next to you and you snort, smiling as he carefully tucks the plushie he smashed in his landing into his arms.

“I’m sure my parents have talked about her enough times for you to know everything,” he scoffs.

“Not really. I didn’t know her name. I just thought she was some girlfriend you had that she hated because she was keeping you away from her. You know, the same way your mother also says that the really old lady down the road who sells flowers keeps your dad away from her.”

He smirks at this, and his fingers rove over the marble eyes of the plushie.

“My mother would blame the sun if it kept her family away from her. She’s been messaging the group chat nonstop for updates from my hyung’s wife about the pregnancy. And she’s supposed to be somewhere in Iceland right now on a cruise. Honestly I wish she would just enjoy herself.”

“Well, she cares. About you especially. Which is maybe why she didn’t air all of your business to me when I was mopping the floors and she counted down the drawers. She just would say that I would be better than “That Woman” but I think she might think anyone would be better than her.”

“She said that to you? Ugh, eomma.”

She did, one late night, when Seokjin left early for “something urgent”. His mother alleged that he was dating a secret new girlfriend that he kept under wraps.

“Honestly, he acts as if I’m going to eat her alive or something. Tsk. That son of mine, both he and his brother are going to send me to an early grave. Behind my back like this when I’m getting older by the minute. Ever since he and that woman broke up, he shut down. I tried to set him up with someone and he kept saying no! That he would find someone. But if she was any better than the others, wouldn’t he have brought her around by now,” she’d said.

She slammed some coins back into the register. You jumped at the sound.

She sighed. “You know what he needs? Someone like you. Someone with vision! That woman never had any of that. So much more focused on status. You’re not like that Y/N. I can tell. And that’s exactly why I hired you. You can’t teach someone that as an adult. They either have it or don’t, and you. You’ve got exactly it.”

You didn’t really know what “it” was, but you didn’t argue, and soon she moved on to complain about something else.

Now, knowing Seokjin’s secret, you think you know where he went that night, and it definitely wasn’t to go hide in his lover’s house. Chances were, he was streaming. And that also would explain why he shut down on her so quickly. You can’t imagine Mrs. Kim’s reaction if she found out Seokjin was a gay cam streamer. Despite being straight.

It dawns on you. You’d been so distracted with that panic attack that you forgot already that Seokjin is in fact interested in women. Solely. Enough to have been engaged to one.

“But, back to your story,” you prod, trying to distract yourself from the fact that now none of this feels like just friends sharing. Seokjin hisses in some air as if he agrees.

“Right. Well, Soon Yi and I were together really in college and on. We started dating really young. Just two kids. And then we just kind of stuck together? She and I were together for a long time before I got the nerve to propose. And then…” He trails off, his face now a deeper blush. Is he embarrassed?

You lick your lips, ready to tell him he doesn’t have to share, but he waves his hand to quiet you.

“She cheated on me. With my boss. We were in the midst of planning the wedding and everything. I was supposed to get this big promotion at the end of some large conferences. But, I don’t know. We had grown apart. Suddenly we didn’t see eye-to-eye on anything.”

Your jaw drops, caught on that larger detail. “She cheated on you with your boss? After all that time? God, Seokjin, I'm so sorry. That’s awful.”

He smiles and nods. “That’s not even the worst part,” he says. His smile grows bigger, like this is some huge joke. “She cheated on me multiple times with him while I was away. And I caught them. Uh, you know. On my dining room table when I came back early to surprise her. I did not get the promotion by the way. But, she actually has a baby, or I guess a toddler, with him now. I heard she’s pregnant again, they’re married. It’s all some surreal life. And now I’m here.”

“Um, you’re right, it was worse than that.” You’re really not sure what to say. Seokjin’s becoming harder to read by the second, turning this conversation into some big joke when it’s not really funny to you on your end. Maybe he’s processed it enough by now, but based on how tightly he’s now squeezing your alpaca plushie, you would wager that he doesn’t really find it funny either.

“Is this,” you take a breath. “Is this why the other night you said you were a failure? Because of what happened with Soon Yi?”

“Partly. I mean, it’s not like I did too great of a job keeping her satisfied. She clearly found other ways to do that.” He laughs darkly.

“That’s not how that works you know,” you say. His eyebrows lift.

“What do you mean?”

“What you just said. Keeping her satisfied. Isn’t it the job of being a human to keep ourselves satisfied? Find things with meaning and joy? It’s not your fault that she chose to do that. To cheat on you, to not be honest when she started feeling differently. She could have told you at any point. Did she?”

He sighs. “Not really, no. Soon Yi wasn’t great at communicating with me about things like that. For so long, we just knew what the other person needed. Because we’d been together since we were so young, we had come up with some other kind of language. And my friends, too, they were in on it. She was not always going to tell someone how she felt but she would show them. For Jungkook’s 21st birthday she threw him an “American Stereotype” themed birthday which he was always obsessing over from the videos. Bought a bunch of red solo cups, they played that Miley Cyrus song and bought a bunch of discounted Fourth of July partyware. She was one of us.”

Even now, despite everything, Seokjin is speaking so kindly about someone who hurt him. And honestly, it throws you. You are so used to the men you’ve been around talking so poorly of their exes that you didn’t know someone could experience such a negative thing and not immediately resort to extreme name calling.

That’s just how good Seokjin is. Enough to not be mad at you for asking questions, for panicking. Enough to speak kindly about others even if it might be eating at him.

“That doesn’t mean it was your fault though,” you stifle a yawn. He cocks an eyebrow.

“Maybe we should shelve this conversation for another time,” he says.

“No, no, I want to hear. I want to know all of it.”

“You were supposed to start your scheduled stream an hour ago.”

“Change of plans. I’m not streaming tonight.”

“Do your subs know that?”

“Don’t call them that. They’re subscribers not subs. Sub is something you do.”

Jesus. Please don’t let him cling to that. Please don’t let that give away that I know.

“Pfft. Okay, do your subscribers know you’re not streaming anymore?”

You roll your eyes, knowing he’s created this distance on purpose and now the moment has passed.

Fine, you’ll get more from him about this eventually. You need to understand how Soon Yi impacted him. You don’t really know why, but you can’t help but feel like knowing more might make you feel less uneasy about all of this. About you and Seokjin and what this could all maybe mean someday.

“I can post about it,” you say softly and he nods.

“That might be a good idea. You’ve had a big day. A big panic attack, you probably need some sleep.”

Your stomach sinks at the idea that he might leave after this, and you’re still not sure you want to be alone. You chew your lip.“What I really need is some pizza,” you say.

Seokjin smirks. “Good thing for you, I know exactly where we can find some.”

“Thank you again for the pizza,” you said, nibbling on the edge of one crust. “I didn’t think I could be that hungry after eating so much earlier.”

Seokjin took another swig of beer, shrugging. “Well, you’ve had a big day, and you burned energy and probably calories earlier.”

Your panic attack may have seemed to you like it was coming out of nowhere, but to Seokjin, it wasn’t. He had noticed your embarrassment the second after you asked him that question, saw you spiral inside yourself as you tried to huff air. He wasn’t sure what really triggered it, but he also knew he didn’t want to leave you after that.

He wasn’t unfamiliar to them. Yes, Yoongi had his share, and it took a little while to learn what ways he could be soothed. Soon Yi’s were different, though. A lot more similar to yours.

When they had started experimenting sexually, there would be times in which she would fall so quickly into panic, like she couldn’t give up control. And from that point on, sometimes she would spiral deeper, into some pit of shame where whatever they were doing, even if it wasn’t super kinky, led to these shaking, sub-drop-like breakdowns. They were more rare, but they did happen, especially earlier in their relationship.

At the time, Seokjin didn’t understand what was going on, and neither did Soon Yi. Just that she sometimes would flip on him during foreplay when he would get a little more confident and dominant, or if he started falling into a scene that she had asked them to do, using the script the way she asked, it would happen anyway. Almost like she was fighting between what she wanted and who she expected herself to be.

And that’s in a way how you seemed to be too. Maybe you weren’t like this sexually, and he would unpack that idea later. But in this intimate space of your home, it was like Seokjin was experiencing some type of whiplash as you went from being so uncomfortable about asking about his sexuality to you lying next to him in your bed talking about his ex.

He wasn’t mad, not in the slightest. He understood that especially after a panic attack, people were desperate for closeness and intimacy, and whatever reaction he had to your panic, you felt soothed and safe with him. He was being let into your world little by little, even if you were fighting yourself to let it happen.

He wanted that. He wanted this: you two eating cold pizza on the floor of your living room, you chewing happily and Seokjin warm and full of life watching you do it.

You even let him make adjustments to your space, laughing and applauding him after he ripped some of the clean cardboard from one of the pizza boxes and made shims to prop up and balance your oven and fridge. He found if he scooted the couch slightly to the left and your entertainment system got turned a few inches, you could completely see the TV from anywhere on the couch. You dove to the other side almost immediately, whooping when you realized you wouldn’t have to strain yourself to see anymore.

You were comfortable. He made you comfortable.

“Yeah, I guess that’s true,” you said, your hand caressing over the soft roll of your stomach to demonstrate how full you were. Then, a deep burp echoed into the room. Your eyes widened. “Oh, wow, sorry. Excuse me,” you said suppressing a chuckle.

But Seokjin was already laughing, his body shaking at the sound. “So polite for someone who made that noise.”

The tenseness in your shoulders fell and you gave in, laughing next to him. “Listen! It was good, and the carbonation of the beer is making me have to burp!”

“Sure, sure. That’s what it is. You know I’ve seen those memes about how women don’t fart or burp or poop and I’m onto you! You have one strike. If you fart or shit I’m going to prove that meme false.”

You scoff, tears leaking out the side of your eyes. “Well good thing for you, I will not deny those allegations. I don’t just poop, I shit.”

Seokjin choked on his next sip of beer, spluttering some of it out of his nose. “Oh shit.” Tears flowed from his eyes from the sting, and he grasped for some napkins near the pizza.

You weren’t much better off, coughing heavily into your shirt as you tried to recover. This, this was everything he could ever want. Afterward, you both cleaned up the kitchen and pizza together, finishing off the six-pack of beer until your yawns were impossible to ignore.

“It’s really late, Y/N. You should go to sleep,” he said. He hated himself for suggesting it, almost wishing that you would extend the invitation to stay. Even then, though, he would have to decline.

“Or we could, I don’t know, play a game or something?” As you said this, you stifled another yawn.

He chuckled. You were stalling, he could tell. And he wasn’t strong enough to say no. “Hm, okay how about this. We can hang out in your room and I’ll tell you more about me. But you have to get ready for bed first, otherwise it’s no deal.”

Your eyelids were heavy, but you beamed anyway. “Yeah, okay.”

You went into your room, grabbing some clothes before shutting yourself into the bathroom to get ready. Seokjin paced your living room, scanning the book shelves, a variety of titles he’d never seen before in the stacks. But there was one, a smaller and thinner book that had more wear and tear than the rest. He slid it out carefully and held it in his hands. Tuck Everlasting, a book he’d read in elementary school about a teenager who met a family that drank from a tree’s magical spring and lived forever.

Based on your copy, he could tell it was well-loved and read many times. How old were you when you read it, he wondered. Did you want to run away into the woods like he did afterward, trying to find a magical spring of your own?

The bathroom door opened, and he carefully slotted the book back onto the shelf before turning to you. You were wearing an oversized T-shirt and some very, very short pajama shorts. Your legs looked so soft to touch. His hand twitched.

“Okay,” you said, “I’m ready.”

Seokjin wasn’t. But he followed you into the darkness of your room anyway, laid himself down next to you on the bed as you tucked yourself under the blankets. Your eyes shimmered as you looked at him, now way more awake than you had appeared just ten minutes ago.

Were you hustling him?

“You need to crawl under the blankets too. Otherwise they’ll constrict me and I will absolutely not fall asleep like you have clearly planned,” you tease.

You were hustling him. He liked it.

He chuckled and obeyed, folding back the comforter and sheets to get in. But in doing so, he revealed you with your shorts already bunched up on your thighs, exposing your lacy panties at your hip. Your shirt was riding up, and he could see a tiny bit of your stomach peeking out.

God fucking help him. He managed a deep breath, begging himself not to get hard, or for his body to at least wait until you wouldn’t see him getting hard and he was under the covers. This wasn’t the time. Not after all the emotionality of the day. But his dick didn’t know that.

Your covers smelled like you, soft and even a little sweet and you really had to be fucking with him because you shoved yourself even closer to him under the covers, so that there were just a few inches between you two. He felt your body heat radiating from you.

“There,” you sighed, and he smelled a hint of your mint toothpaste. His mouth watered. “Now, where were we?”

No, but where were you really? He didn’t remember, didn’t know where to start. And then it clicked.

“Mmm, you were going to go to sleep I think,” he said.

You frowned, your nose wrinkling. “No, that’s not true. Or it was. I’m not tired now.”

“Give it a minute, I’m sure soon your eyelids won’t be able to stay open.”

“Sure, but yours are heavy now too. So you must be tired. Now it’s a competition.” You were right. His eyelids were heavy, and he was tired. But he knew his body, especially as keyed up as he was getting, wasn’t about to let him fall asleep any time soon.

“I think I’ll win that one,” he laughed lightly.

“Doubt it,” you challenged, and you shifted your legs, now a little less comfy and more antsy. You slowly released a breath.

“Are you sure you want to do this right now?” He asked, and you didn’t hesitate to nod.

“I want to know more about you. It’s nice to put the puzzle pieces of you together in my head.” Your voice was growing husky.

“Okay,” he said.

“Okay,” you replied. A beat passed. Neither of you moved to say anything, just looked at each other.

Shouldn’t this be awkward? Shouldn’t all of this feel wrong? Somewhere in his mind, the logical response was yes, this is weird and he should leave. But then he would be leaving you after a hard day, when you clearly were trying to avoid him leaving by going so far as to keep yourself awake to stare at him. To try to get to know him. And that’s what rooted him now. He couldn’t leave even if he wanted to. Maybe you were only being needy. But he also felt needy right now. And for the moment, logic could fuck off.

So he pushed it away, letting the parts of him he liked most bubble to the surface, the parts that led without overthinking and just acted on what he wanted.

He moved slightly closer to you, and you blanched, a little taken aback, but you recovered quickly. “

I’m cold,” you said. He knew it was a lie. He could feel the heat of you.

“Here,” he replied, and he pulled the blanket open slightly so you could wiggle forward, resting yourself against his chest.

He angled himself carefully, trying so hard to avoid the rest of your bodies touching, but it was impossible, so he pulled you closer, letting every part of you rest against him.

“Tell me,” you muttered.

“What should I tell you?” he whispered back.

“I don’t know. Anything.” You were fading quickly, and he was relieved. Sad that he would have to go soon, but relieved that you were finally resting.

“Okay,” he said, even softer. “I think if I ever drank from a magical spring, I would do a better job hiding it than the Tuck family did.”

You hummed in response, and then he felt your head nod into his chest as you fell fully asleep.

#bts smut #seokjin smut #seokjin #seokjin x reader #bts fanfic #kim seokjin #thanks for the sub

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wicked-by-nature--au · 28 days ago

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Size comparison between Kára and Fil

Yea... I don't know what to add to this.

Bonus comparison with Kára and a red stag, the game she usually hunts.

#trollhunters #trollhunters au #wicked by nature au #tales of arcadia #tales of arcadia au #trollhunters oc #tales of arcadia oc #troll oc #kára-tak #kára-tak the huntress #filsol #filsol the stargazer #wicked by nature au / characters

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downbad4yoongi · 2 months ago

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Bound By Magic | Chapter One

🪄Pairing: Namjoon x Reader

🪄AU/Genre: E2L, Magical AU, smut

🪄WC: 11,698

🪄Warnings: smut, minor character death

A/N: This is for @lo1k-diamonds as a part of @bangtanwritershq Sweet Tricks and Wicked Treats exchange.

Thank you to my betas: @colormepurplex2, @moonleeai, and @pars-ley

Summary:

In a world of magic, a centuries-old rivalry exists between two powerful witches. Their mutual animosity is intense, fueled by their constant competition and clashing personalities. Despite their hatred, they are inexplicably drawn to each other's power.

When a dark force threatens the magical realm, they are forced to unite against a common enemy. As they work together, a reluctant respect and attraction grows between them. A pivotal moment, where the witch heals the injured warlock, ignites a powerful connection.

Realizing their intertwined destinies, they embrace their love and combined magic to defeat the darkness. Their newfound unity proves that love can conquer even the deepest-rooted hatred, forging a powerful bond that will shape the future of the magical world.

Chapter One

You stood across the staged area of the arena from your longstanding adversary. You and Namjoon have been at each other’s throats for as long as you can remember. The two of you had been in a constant competition of one-upmanship that others may have considered friendly, but in reality, it was anything but.

The two of you were raised to view the opposite faction as the enemy due to superiority complexes, a mindset that hasn’t budged much for either of you despite those stereotypes being broken down decades ago. Witches’ magickal abilities were rooted in elements and nature, contradicting warlocks' more arcane-based magick.

Eventually, witches and warlocks slowly began collaborating and breaking down the barriers that formerly held strong. This collaboration proved that great things could happen when the two factions worked together instead of against each other. However, you and Namjoon were stubborn and locked in a continuous battle of wills. Every year, you were allowed to best the other at the annual magickal competition, The Spellbound Tournament.

You were fully prepared to show Namjoon who the better spellcaster was when a deafening blast tore through the air, searing heat and blinding light engulfing you. Instinctively, you lifted a shimmering shield against the shock wave that slammed into your body. Chaos erupted around you - panicked screams mingling with the crackle of flames and crumbling stones. As the ringing in your ears subsided, you blinked away the spots dancing before your eyes. The magickal stadium lay in ruins, ancient seats reduced to rubble. Acrid smoke stung your nostrils. Your heart raced wildly, pounding fiercely against your ribcage as if trying to break free, each beat echoing like a war drum in the silence of the moment.

Scanning the destruction, you spotted Namjoon staggering to his feet, robes tattered and face smudged with soot. His sharp gaze locked with yours, a flicker of concern behind the hardened exterior despite his often declared hatred of you. You nodded curtly, conveying a silent check - I'm alive, if not unscathed.

Haneul's voice, a sage wizard that everyone listens to without hesitation, cut through the din, commanding attention. "Quickly! Over here!" They stood atop a jutting stone slab, silver hair whipping around their face.

You and Namjoon picked your way over the rubble and debris, joined by other dazed survivors of the blast. Haneul's eyes, usually placid pools of wisdom, now churned urgently. Aching and battered, most gather in front of Hanuel as others take care of the ones who are gravely injured… or worse.

"This was no mere explosion," they declared gravely. "Wooshik has made his move. Even now, his dark forces mobilize to seize control."

A chill shivered down your spine at the mention of that name - the warlock whose ambitions threatened the very fabric of your world. You exchanged a tense glance with Namjoon, animosity temporarily forgotten in the face of this revelation.

"We...we have to stop him," you managed, voice rough from inhaled smoke. "Whatever it takes."

Haneul nodded solemnly. "Indeed. And it will require the two of you working together." They pierced you and Namjoon with a knowing glare, a glint in their eyes as if seeing a future only they could perceive. "Only your combined strengths can thwart Wooshik's scheme."

Namjoon's jaw clenched, a muscle ticking in his cheek. You could practically feel the waves of reluctance rolling off him, mirroring your own hesitation. Years of rivalry, of traded barbs and clashing magicks, hung between you - a chasm not easily bridged.

But Haneul's words rang with an ominous finality. The fate of everything you held dear hinged upon this tentative alliance with your sworn adversary. Failure was not an option.

Slowly, deliberately, you extended a hand to Namjoon. His obsidian eyes delved into yours, searching for any hint of deceit. You met his probing gaze unflinchingly, willing him to see the grim resolve within.

After a moment that stretched for an eternity, his larger palm enveloped yours. His skin, warm and callused against your own, sent a jolt of awareness through you.

"For the covens," he gritted out. "And the realm."

You squeezed his hand, sealing the pact. "For the realm," you echoed.

As you stood amidst the smoking ruins, hands clasped with your erstwhile enemy, a sense of destiny settled upon your shoulders. The path ahead promised peril and unknown challenges.

But one truth crystallized in your mind, sharp and unassailable - you would face them together or not at all.

A piercing shriek cracked through the air, shattering the newly formed yet fragile peace. Your head snapped up, instincts screaming of imminent danger. Beside you, Namjoon tensed, his hand falling from yours to the hilt of his blade.

From the depths of the swirling clouds of dust and debris, a ghastly creature emerged, its form writhing and shifting like a shadow in the dim light. Its eerie silhouette loomed larger as it stepped forward, eyes glinting with a malevolent glow. Gnarled limbs reached out, each movement echoing the horrors of forgotten nightmares. Its scales shimmered like polished obsidian, capturing and refracting the light in jagged glimmers. Each thunderous step echoed ominously, as razor-sharp talons drove deep into the earth, leaving behind jagged furrows that spoke of its immense power. Those menacing eyes, glowing with a sinister intelligence, locked onto you and Namjoon, radiating an unsettling awareness that sent chills coursing down your spine.

One of Wooshik's twisted creations unleashed to test your newfound alliance.

"Flank it from both sides!" Namjoon barked, his voice ringing with authority.

You moved to obey, along with everyone else, muscle memory overriding the strangeness of taking orders from him. As you circled the beast, your magick hummed beneath your skin, yearning for release.

The creature lunged, a blur of shadow and fury. You lunged aside, feeling the whisper of its claws mere inches from your face. Namjoon retaliated with a blast of arcane energy, but the beast shrugged it off, its hide impervious to single attacks.

"We need to strike together!" you yelled, understanding eventually dawning. "Combine our magick!"

Namjoon's eyes met yours, a split-second of perfect understanding passing between you. You began to weave an intricate spell, your power intertwining with his: fire and ice, light and shadow, two opposites melding into a devastating whole.

The beast charged again, its roar shaking the very ground you stood on. You held your position. Namjoon moved behind you, a solid presence at your back, his arms bracketing yours. At the last possible moment, you released your spell, a searing bolt of energy that struck the creature head-on.

It stumbled, howling in pain and rage. Namjoon pressed, using the advantage, his blade flashing in a deadly arc. The creature's blood sprayed across the shattered earth, black and viscous.

But it wasn't enough. The beast rallied, its wounds knitting together with unnatural speed. It lashed out with its tail, catching Namjoon across the chest and sending him flying.

With a wordless shout, you unleashed the full might of your magick, pouring every ounce of your strength into a final, desperate assault. The air crackled with power, your veins burning with its force.

The creature staggered, its defenses crumbling beneath the onslaught. Namjoon, battered but unbroken, surged to his feet, his blade finding the beast's heart in a single, perfect thrust.

As the creature fell, its dying scream echoing across the battlefield, you sagged to your knees, spent. Namjoon limped to your side, his hand finding your shoulder as he stood over you, hunched forward but managing to stay on his feet.

"We did it," he rasped, his voice tinged with something akin to wonder.

You nodded, too exhausted for words. But as you knelt there amidst the carnage and the chaos, you felt the first stirrings of something new, fragile, and profound.

A connection forged in the heat of battle. A partnership tempered by shared peril and sacrifice.

The dust settled around you, the eerie silence broken only by the ragged sound of your own breathing. Namjoon's hand tightened on your shoulder, his touch a lifeline in the aftermath of the chaos. You met his gaze and saw your own exhaustion and relief mirrored in those fathomless depths.

But there was no time to rest, no moment to savor your victory. The battle was far from over, and Wooshik's forces wouldn’t be far behind. They would need more support if they were ever to defeat Wooshik successfully.

As if summoned by your thoughts, three figures emerged from the shadows, their faces grim with determination. You instantly recognized them - Bae Suzy, Min Yoongi, and Hirai Momo. Momo and Suzy are members of your coven, the Daughters of Gaia, while Yoong is a member of Namjoon’s, The Inkwell Society.

"We came as soon as we heard," Suzy said, her voice low and urgent remorse laced through her voice from not attending the tournament in the first place. "Wooshik's creatures are everywhere, and his power grows by the moment."

Yoongi nodded, his cat-like eyes narrowed. "We have to stop him before it's too late."

Beside you, you watched Namjoon struggle to remain on his feet, but his jaw is set with determination. "Then we will," he said, his voice ringing with conviction as he straightened to his full height. "Together."

Momo stepped forward, her hands already glowing with the telltale shimmer of her healing magick. "Let me help," she murmured, her touch moving over Namjoon, caring for his injuries, before turning her attention to you. She ran her hands over you gently, mending your minor wounds and bruises.

You felt the warmth of her power flowing through you, knitting torn flesh and easing the ache of bruised bones and muscles. But even as your body mended, your mind raced with the enormity of the task before you.

Wooshik was a formidable foe, his mastery of the dark arts unmatched. And yet, as you looked around at the faces of your friends, at the determined set of Namjoon's shoulders, you felt a flicker of hope.

"We can do this," you said, your voice soft but certain. "We have to."

Suzy nodded, her green eyes glinting with resolve. "We'll stand with you," she said, her words a solemn vow. "Until the end."

Yoongi's lips quirked in a wry smile. "Well, let's just hope the end isn't today," he drawled, his dry humor a welcome respite from the tension.

Namjoon's hand found your shoulder again, gripping it firmly in a silent promise. "It won't be," he said, his voice low and fierce. "Not if we have anything to say about it."

And as you stood there, surrounded by your friends and temporary allies' strength and loyalty, you felt a surge of determination. Wooshik may have been powerful, but he had underestimated the true might of your covens.

🪄🪄🪄

You, along with Namjoon and your friends, infiltrated a coven of acolytes known to be loyal to Wooshik and overheard a hushed conversation between two of Wooshik’s most dedicated followers. The witches spoke in hushed tones, their words barely audible over the nearby crackling fire.

“Have you heard the latest from Wooshik?” one of the witches asked. “He’s been searching high and low for that ancient artifact. It is said that it holds the power to reshape reality itself.”

“I’ve heard rumors,” the other replied. “They say it’s hidden deep within the ruins of the Shadow Keep, a place long forgotten by time.”

Hearts pounding with excitement and dread, you knew you had to act quickly. The artifact was the key to stopping Wooshik. From the overheard conversation, you understood that the journey would be full of treacherous terrain, ancient curses, and the watchful eyes of Wooshik’s minions.

Undeterred, you set off on a quest to beat Wooshik to the artifact. The trek was grueling, filled with challenges at every turn. With determination, you all brave numerous treacherous mountain passes, crossed raging rivers and fought off attacks from monstrous creatures lurking in the shadows.

Finally, after days of arduous travel, the ancient ruins appeared before you. The once-grand structures were now crumbling, their spires reaching skyward like skeletal fingers grasping at the churning clouds. The stone walls were now covered in overgrown vines. The legends are undeniable. Seeing it before you, the walls pulsed with the immense power you all knew lay within.

As you drew closer, an unnatural hush fell over your band, a sense of foreboding washed over all of you. The air was heavy with a strange, almost palpable energy, and the ruins seemed to watch you with an eerie silence. A chill ran down your spine as you realized you were not alone. Unseen eyes followed your every move, their presence lurking in the shadows, waiting for the right moment to strike.

Namjoon moved at your side, his presence comforting in this eerie stillness. Since your battle against Wooshik's beast, a subtle shift had occurred between you - an unspoken understanding, a shared purpose that transcended your rivalry. His gaze met yours, dark eyes reflecting your own unease even as his jaw set with determination.

“We’re almost there,” he murmured, his voice barely audible over the rustling of leaves and the distant hoot of an owl. “Just a little further.”

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest. The ruins loomed ahead, their ancient stones casting long, menacing shadows. You shivered as you recalled the words of the acolytes who had led you here.

As you drew closer, the air grew even more oppressive. The once-vibrant colors of the forest seemed to fade, replaced by a sickly pallor. A low, guttural growl echoed from the depths of the ruins.

“Something’s wrong,” Namjoon said with his voice low. He tightened his grip on his sword, his eyes scanning the shadows for any sign of danger.

Suddenly, a figure emerged from the darkness ahead. It was a monstrous creature, its body a grotesque amalgamation of human and beast. Its eyes glowed with an unnatural light, and its claws dripped with a foul, green substance, yet traces of its origin alluded to its fall from grace.

“A fallen guardian,” Namjoon hissed. “We have to be careful.”

With widened eyes, Momo gulps, “That doesn’t look like any guardian I’ve ever seen.”

Namjoon’s mouth flattened into a grim line. “Unfortunately, this one has been possessed and twisted into this demented creature.”

The creature let out a blood-curdling roar and lunged at your group. Namjoon met it with a flurry of sword strikes, his movements swift and precise. But the creature was incredibly strong, and it knocked Namjoon off his feet.

Before the creature could strike again, you leaped forward, your blade glinting in the moonlight. You managed to deflect the creature’s attack, but the force of the blow sent you reeling backward.

Yoongi, Suzy, and Momo joined the fray. As the creature was about to strike again, Yoongi unleashed a barrage of fireballs, forcing it to retreat. Suzy jumped in with her agility to dodge the creature’s attacks and landed a few blows of her own. Stepping up, Momo released her unique powers - just like she could heal with kind hands, she could use that same magick to find even the most minor injuries and transform them into gaping wounds.

The battle raged on, with the clash of metal on flesh and whizzing blasts of magick echoing through the ruins. You fought with everything you had, fear fueling your determination. Namjoon, Yoongi, Suzy, and Momo also fought valiantly, their combined skills a formidable force against the monstrous creature.

You all fought with a ferocity that surprised even yourselves, the bond between your alliance growing stronger with each passing moment. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, you managed to land the critical blow that brought the beast to its knees. With a final agonizing roar, it collapses to the ground, finally dead.

The air was now thick with the stench of blood and sweat, and the ruins were bathed in a haunting silence. Now exhausted but triumphant, you leaned against each other, struggling to remain on your feet. You braced yourselves and prepared for what lay ahead, sure this would not be the last hurdle.

Yoongi’s rasp finally broke the silence, “We did it.”

You all moved deeper into the ruins, hearts pounding anxiously. You knew the artifact was close and were determined to retrieve it before Wooshik could get his hands on it.

The path led you through a series of winding corridors, each one more labyrinthine than the last. The air was thick with dust, the faint smell of decay, and strange, alien symbols carved into the walls.

Finally, you came to a large, circular chamber. In the center of the chamber was a pedestal, upon which rested a glowing orb. The sphere pulsed with an otherworldly energy, and a sense of awe washed over you and your friends as you gazed upon it.

“This must be it,” Suzy breathed, her voice filled with wonder.

Before you could touch it, a sinister chuckle echoed through the chamber. A figure emerged from the shadows, his form shrouded in darkness. Wooshik. His eyes glowed with a malevolent light.

“So, you’ve finally found it,” he taunted, his voice dripping with venom. “But it is too late. The artifact is mine now. Thank you for finding it for me.” You glower at him, the links clicking into place that you were used. A pawn in his game to find what he had sought for years since his corruptness prevented him from knowing where to find it.

Namjoon stepped forward, placing himself between you and the dark warlock, a former member of his coven. No one had seen hide nor hair of him since he disappeared a few years ago after absconding away with The Crimson Grimoire, an ancient tome containing dark magick. "Your schemes end here, Wooshik," he snarled, power crackling around his clenched fists.

Wooshik raised his hand, a wave of dark energy seeping from his palm. The air seemed to vibrate with the force of his malice as several more warlocks stepped out from the shadows behind him.

Namjoon's hand found yours, gripping tightly. You met his gaze and saw the grim determination etched into every line of his face. In that moment, you understood each other perfectly - no matter what came next, you would face it together.

As one, you grabbed your wands, power surging through you like a raging flood. Suzy, Yoongi, and Momo fell into formation beside you, their magicks intertwining with yours until the very stones trembled beneath your feet.

Wooshik's face contorted in a rictus of rage, his eyes twin pits of obsidian madness. "You cannot stop me!" he roared, his voice reverberating through the chamber. "I will tear the power from your broken bodies and ascend to godhood!"

"Never!" Namjoon gritted out. “We will fight you to our last breath!"

Wooshik raised his hands, dark energy coalescing around him. The ground beneath your feet began to crack and splinter, the ancient ruins groaning as if in agony.

Namjoon's eyes met yours, a wealth of understanding passing between you in that split second. You knew what needed to be done, the sacrifice that victory would demand.

“Fine. Go ahead and cosign your death certificates. I am destined for godhood, for glory eternal.”

You prepared to defend yourselves but weren’t ready for the immense power emanating from Wooshik. Before you could strike first, a wave of energy threw everyone to the ground, adding to the injuries on your already battered and bruised bodies.

Just as Wooshik was about to seize the artifact, a blinding light filled the chamber. Looking up, eyes squinting and hand thrown up to lessen the intense light, a figure stood before them, clad in shimmering robes and radiating an aura of pure power. It was the ancient guardian of the artifact, awakened from its slumber by Wooshik’s intrusion.

The guardian raised his hand, and a beam of pure energy shot forth from his palm, striking Wooshik with a devastating force and sending him flying backward.

With a groan, Wooshik achingly moved to sit up. “This…is impossible,” he gasped, his once commanding voice reduced to a wheezing rattle. “I am destined for godhood, for glory eternal…”

Namjoon shook his head, grim satisfaction in his eyes as he watched his foe crumble before the guardian here to defend the obscure artifact. “Your only destiny is oblivion, Wooshik. You’ve sown nothing but suffering and ruin. Now, you’ll reap the consequences.”

Wooshik’s eyes bulged, his handsome face contorting into a mask of pure hatred. With a final, desperate howl, he lunged to his feet and rushed at your group, hands outstretched like claws seeking to rend and tear.

But his strength was spent, his power broken. Yoongi’s blade flashed in a silver arc, biting deep into the dark warlock’s chest. Wooshik staggered back, a look of almost comical surprise on his face as he glanced down at the blooming crimson stain.

Before Yoongi could strike the killing blow, the remainder of Wooshik’s men grabbed the injured foe and disappeared in the blink of an eye.

The guardian turned to the remaining witches and warlocks, his eyes filled with a serene light. He gestured towards the artifact, and a gentle, unseen force lifted it into the air. The orb hovered above the guardian for a moment, then descended into his outstretched palm.

“Take it,” the guardian encouraged, his voice echoing through the chamber. “It is yours to protect.”

With wide, blinking eyes, you took the mysterious artifact from the guardian’s hand. A wave of power surged through you, filling you with a newfound strength and determination.

The guardian faded away as you stepped away from the dais. You turned back to the group, your eyes meeting theirs. A silent understanding passed between you. All of you knew that this fight was far from over.

🪄🪄🪄

Hours later, you all settled around a campfire, nursing your wounds.

Namjoon looked at you as you both stood off to the side near where your tents were set up—something unreadable flickering in the depths of his dark eyes. “Well, at least we managed to injure him gravely. That should buy us time to recoup and end him for good,” he rasped, his voice hoarse from shouting.

You nodded, your heart heavy with a mixture of relief and dread. The battle had been exhausting both physically and emotionally. You were unsure if you had the strength to face Wooshik again, especially not after almost losing today.

His large hands cupped your shoulders, gently running his palms down your arms. “You’ve been quiet.”

You looked up, sadness echoing in your eyes. “I’ve been thinking about what happened. About how close we came to losing.”

“I’m scared, too,” Namjoon admitted. “Scared that we won’t be able to stop Wooshik. Scared that we’ll all die.”

You reached up, pulling his hand from your shoulder and cupping it in yours. “We won’t die,” you reassured, your voice firm. We’re too strong, too determined.”

A small smile spread his plump lips. “You’re right. We are.” A flicker of hope returned to his eyes.

Slowly, almost hesitantly, Namjoon leaned down, his forehead coming to rest against yours. His breath ghosted across your lips, and a gasp caught in your throat, a sudden swell of emotion threatening to overwhelm you. The walls you had so carefully constructed, the barriers you had erected to keep him at a distance, crumbled in the face of his raw honesty.

"Namjoon, I..." Your words trailed off, lost in the depths of his gaze.

And then, before you could think and he could second-guess himself, he was kissing you. His soft and insistent lips pressed against yours with a desperate urgency, a need that mirrored the ache in your own heart. Your eyes fluttered closed, and you surrendered to the sensation, your hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer.

The kiss was electric, a spark that ignited a fire within you. Years of tension, of unspoken longing, poured into that single, searing moment. You could taste the salt of his sweat, the coppery tang of blood, but beneath it all, there was something else: something sweet and intoxicating, a promise of what could be.

"Ahem." A pointed cough shattered the spell, and you jerked apart, your cheeks flushed and your heart racing.

Suzy, Yoongi, and Momo sat a few feet away, their expressions a mix of surprise, amusement, and concern. Suzy's eyebrows were raised, a knowing smirk playing at the corners of her mouth. Yoongi's face was carefully neutral, but you could see the calculations whirring behind his eyes. And Momo... Momo looked torn. Her gaze darted between you and Namjoon with a flicker of worry in her eyes.

"Well, that was... unexpected," Suzy drawled, her voice laced with barely contained laughter.

You felt heat rising in your cheeks, a mix of embarrassment and defiance. "I... we..."

"It's not what you think," Namjoon said, his voice steady despite the tension in his shoulders. "We were just... caught up in the moment."

Yoongi's eyes narrowed, his gaze probing. "And what, exactly, is this moment going to mean for our mission? For our team?"

The question hung in the air, heavy with implication. You swallowed hard, your mind racing. What did this mean? For you, for Namjoon, for the battle that lay ahead?

"It means," you said slowly, choosing your words carefully, "that we're stronger together. That we'll face whatever comes, side by side."

Namjoon nodded in silent affirmation.

The peace you all had found as you rested, recouping from the long day, for the night was short-lived. A sudden, searing pain lanced through your skull, driving you to your knees. Distantly, you heard Namjoon cry out and felt his hands on your shoulders as he, too, crumpled under the onslaught.

Images flashed behind your eyelids, vivid and disjointed. A towering citadel, wreathed in shadow. Wooshik, his face contorted in a rictus of mad triumph. And a figure, cloaked and hooded, standing at the dark warlock's side.

As abruptly as it had come, the vision receded, leaving you gasping and disoriented. Namjoon's face swam into focus above you, his eyes wide with concern and a reflection of the same haunted knowledge.

"What… what was that?" Suzy demanded, her voice shaking slightly as she helped Momo to her feet.

"A warning," you managed, your tongue thick and clumsy in your mouth. "Wooshik… he's not alone. He has an ally, someone powerful."

Namjoon nodded grimly, his hand finding yours and gripping tight. "I saw it too. A dark citadel and a figure in the shadows..."

Yoongi's brow furrowed. "Another warlock? Or something worse?"

You shook your head, frustration welling in your chest. "I don't know. But whatever it is, we're running out of time. We need to get back to the others and warn them."

Chapter Two

#bangtanwhq #bts fanfic #bts ff #bts #bts fanfiction #kim namjoon #witches #kim namjoon x reader #min yoongi #hirai momo #magical au

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huihuiheart · 1 year ago

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Kinktober 2023 D3: His Kitten - Lee Know

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Kinktober 2023 Masterlist

Stray Kids Masterlist

Pairing: Lee Know/ Minho x Fem! Reader

Genre: Mafia Au, Smut

Summary: When Chan’s girl invited you who knew you could get under his skin so well, only now it’s time for him to teach you what the consequences of your actions are.

Warnings: Mafia Au, guns, side character getting shot, cursing, alcohol, edging, organsm denial, overstim (suggested), gagging (with panties), dom/sub themes, brat taming themes, spanking (reader rec), oral (both rec), degradation, dirty talk, use of the name kitten.

Word Count: 4134

Just when Minho thought he couldn’t get any more pissed you just had to go and do something to make him hate your guts even more. It was far too easy for you to do so and he felt that at this point perhaps you were doing it purely to mess with him. Though for most of the guys, this was lovely entertainment. To see the man they typically were so terrified of having someone show no hesitation in challenging him.

“Minho, I need you to focus. Now isn’t the time to let her get under your skin.” Chan scolded slightly, the boss not used to having to do so with his second in command. Not until you got here anyway.

“Not my fault she’s such a fucking pain,” Minho grumbled, quick to silence Jisung and Hyunjin’s snickers with a glare spelling death.

“Yes well, we need that fucking pain so try to play nice will you?” Chan asks with a brow raised and Minho puts his hands up in surrender.

“I am, but once we’re done with her no promises I won’t strangle the bitch.” He huffs only to freeze when the next laugh he hears is yours, and it sounds far too happy at that.

“Careful Min, some of us might be into that.” You tease with a wink, making your friend roll her eyes as she takes her place at Chan’s side.

“I’m starting to think perhaps I should have never introduced y'all.” She says rubbing a hand down her face as Chan rubs her back leaning over to kiss her temple.

“It’s alright love, she’s been helping exactly like we needed.” Chan tries to assure her which only makes Minho roll his eyes now, bristling as you speak up again.

“I mean when you need the best you need the best, so it just can’t be helped.” You shrug, smirking directly at Minho knowing it would start shit up again.

“The best? I don’t think so.” He scoffs only making your smirk all the more wicked.

“And yet you couldn’t do it, so what does that say about you? Oh yeah, that you’re not as good as me.” You know you have him where you want when his hands slam down on the table, standing to try and loom over you, though not intimidating you in the least.

Chan intervenes before anything more can happen, “Bicker on your own time you two, that’s not why we’re here.”

Your mouth opens to say something else, but the look your friend gives you telling you to drop it for now is enough to quiet you again. Listening to Chan update everyone on where they were on things and what he needed everyone to do. You had realized as soon as your friend asked you to come help why Chan had garnered so much support, he was a natural leader, enough so that anyone would follow him, even into this life of crime.

Once you were all dismissed, Hyunjin came up to you, looking at you softly, “ You gonna be okay? Going out into the heat of things yourself?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. Besides I’m sure a certain pretty boy will have no problem protecting me.” You gaze up at him with a smile as you step into his arms and Minho feels his blood boiling again.

Even more than your mouthing off at him seemed to irritate him, did the way you seemed to flirt so effortlessly with the others. Something he wondered if they had gone any further on, but would never dare to ask so as not to give the appearance of caring. He didn't, right? Just wanted to put you in your place most likely, there was no way he actually cared like that.

Hearing Hyunjin start to respond, just as flirtatiously no doubt, Minho had to walk off or he'd start something that wouldn't end well. Deciding to get his frustrations out he goes to the shooting range and practice, not that he needed it, but nothing called him quite like seeing the bullets hitting his mark. Besides they all had time to kill before they moved anyway, though the longer it had been since he saw you the more he wondered if you were passing the time with someone else or not. Curing under his breath when he noticed he missed for the first time in as long as he could remember, shaking his head to will the thoughts of how you wouldn't be that bad if someone just put you in your place, no doubt with a fat cock in your mouth to shut you up, hoping to regain his composure and be back to accurate again.

Minho attempted to keep himself occupied, not that there was a lack of things to do until it was time for everyone to head out. Minho rolled his eyes as soon as he heard you and Changbin enter, flirting as you did so. Changbin helped you with the bulletproof vest and to strap on your weapons as if you didn't know how and it made Minho scoff as he prepared himself. You froze as soon as you heard the sound.

"What? You got something to say Minho?" You call him out, making him turn and glare right into your eyes.

"Just find it irritating how desperate you seem to be for all their attention that you'll make up reasons you need them. What was Hyunjin not enough for you? Or did he smart up and leave you so desperate you had to see if someone else could fix it?" Minho's words make you burn, feeling embarrassed he said them in front of everyone so blatantly as if it was his place somehow.

"What the fuck did you just say to me Lee Minho?" You hiss out, standing taller to show him you aren't scared of him in the least, even if internally you are just slightly.

Minho comes over, nearly toe to toe with you to look into your eyes with as much fire in his, "You fucking heard me. What's the matter? Little kitty didn't like getting called out like that? Too bad. Maybe the next person you go to to make that all better will do us all a favor and put that mouth in its place too."

You grip his collar, stunning him by pulling him in enough to whisper into his ear, "If a stray bullet catches you out there, don't think it was an accident."

You push him away then as if he is burning you, he's about to pull you back to retaliate until Chan calls him to discuss some final details about everything. Returning only when you all have to get into the car. You ensure you have all your gear, tensing as Minho comes over but calming once you realize it's curt as he brings his own equipment so you both can look over everything and be able to just know where whatever you need when you get there is.

"I'll get all the doors and surveillance, you just get the heavier things. Focus outside the office first, I'll make sure security is down before I hand over the laptop. Changbin has the backdoor and Seungmin the front. Hyunjin and Felix will load everything up for us." Minho tells you before zipping his bag back up and going to the driver's seat.

Their rivals had just opened up an underground casino that was ruining business for Chan's crew but also encouraging other people to come to the area and try to settle down. Something that Chan wanted to stop at the source. So here you were with them, about to break into this place to take all the money from everything in their casino. Minho, as good as he was at hacking and infiltration, didn't know how to access these machines and such like you did, so he would handle the outside stuff while you manage the machines. Waiting until they had the place closed to look inconspicuous to the public eye surrounding the area before you all decided to strike.

Once inside Minho made quick work of the security systems while you started working to get behind the exchange counters and work to access everything behind there. Hyunjin and Felix come behind to bag things after you pop open each individual section. Then moving to any machines that deal with not just chips, but cash as well. Clearing all those out along with the tables before Minho steps aside to let you into the room to access the laptop. Working to get into their accounts and start clearing those out as well. Through two and onto a third when the shouting started up. Looking up at Minho in the doorway, who was already on alert with his gun in hand.

"Min they're here working hard to get in. What's the ETA?" Seungmin calls from the front door where Changbin has now rushed to help him hold it. Hyunjin and Felix cover the back as they finish loading up the car.

Minho looking back at you, "Well, what's the ETA little miss miracle worker?"

"Depends, do you want all 6 cleared or you wanna call it after number 3, boss?" You mock him as you're working as quickly as you can despite it. Gunfire echoing in now too as Seungmin and Changbin pull back slightly to continue to cover you.

Minho rocking as he debates, "Can you get them in 10?"

You huff a little bit, "Give me 12 and I'll make it happen."

"I said 10, that's all we're getting." Minho insists, firing off a little.

"And I said you're only getting them all in 12." You counter, working with one hand as your other hand is on your gun just in case you need it.

"Will you two stop bickering and focus before someone gets shot!" Changbin calls from outside, shutting you both up through the next while of chaos.

"You have one minute left, where are you at?" Minho asks and if you weren't so focused you'd have flared up at him as he comes over.

" Still have most the way to go on this one, because like I said I need 12." You rolled your eyes before you felt his hand on your hip.

"And I said you have 10." He grumbles, getting ready to pull you to move.

"Well then, do you want this or not?" You huff trying to pull a little bit away from him to make it happen. Pressing the last key down as Minho drags you out of the room.

He tucks you into his side, shooting off at those who had barged in as you all quickly filter out the back door. Seungmin 's shoulder gets grazed with a bullet right before Changbin slams the backdoor shut and blocks it while you all get in the car and rush off to head back to safety. In various safe houses until things calmed a little bit more. Minho sent an update text to Chan along the way.

"Seungmin you're going to go to the one with Innie, he has all the medical stuff," Minho announces, confusing you considering initially you were supposed to be with Jeongin. So where would you be now?

You were left to watch in horror as people filed out either one at a time or in pairs until it was just you and Minho left. Minho gave you a look when you cursed under your breath, though he smirked a little knowing he could get under your skin the same way you could him.

"Don't worry I promised Chan I wouldn't kill you, I wouldn't want to make his girl sad. She'd also probably have my head for it, so..." Minho attempts to assure you as you pull into the garage of the final safe house.

"I however made no promises." You grumble helping him get all the remaining loot out to stash, followed by your duffle of stuff while you're staying here.

"Oh, princess, you couldn't hurt me if you tried." Minho smirks, going to get a beer from the fridge and sitting down, "Han is going to come by and pick up the loot and drop off food. I told him to just get some pizza."

"What if I don't want pizza?" You raise a brow at him going over to get a beer yourself.

"Then you can make yourself something or be hungry. It's not my fucking problem." He shrugs, getting comfortable and making you roll your eyes.

"Whatever, where am I staying?" You ask, putting your beer down to pick up your duffle.

"The bedroom is in the back." Minho gestures vaguely and you start to head off before freezing as you register his words.

"The bedroom? As in one?" You pause looking at him and he chuckles and nods.

"Yep, just one." He answers and your brows furrow.

"So what? Are you staying on the couch?" Your question makes him laugh even harder.

"Oh absolutely not, and if you have a problem with that then you can stay on the couch." Minho shrugs his attention not on you in the least anymore. He finds a smile gracing his lips as he hears you mumbling curses under your breath, but go to put your things in the bedroom. Only moving to get up when there’s a knock at the front door, only you rush by to get to it first. Minho called after you and rolled his eyes, hand reaching back for the hilt of his gun as he quickly followed in case it was someone other than Jisung there.

“Hey Hanji!” You beam at the man before pouting dramatically at him, “You can’t by chance get me out of here with the loot can you?”

“Y/N that’s too dangerous. You’re stuck here for now.” Jisung tells you quickly before looking over your shoulder to catch the fire in Minho’s eyes and gulping, before adding a soft sorry. Handing over the food in exchange for the loot, about to say something more only for Minho to slam the door in his face and lock it. Turning to tell you off only to find you already gone with the pizza in hand.

By the time he finds you in the kitchen, he’s seething, feeling as though his skin itself is on fire. Coming up behind you and quickly closing the pizza box you had opened to dig into. Turning around to tell him off you’re silenced seeing just how dark his gaze is as he cages you in against the counter. You realize you’ve really crossed a line now, though what line you honestly aren’t sure of.

“Are you fucking serious Y/N? Was all the danger you put people in earlier not enough? Now you had to ask Jisung to put himself in danger as well as yourself for your fucking convenience?” Minho’s words are harsh and voice-cutting, but eerily quiet. The effect has you cowering beneath him for the first time and despite Minho thinking you need the lesson the sight has a bit of a stinging effect in his heart, though not as much as it makes his cock throb in his jeans.

“I’m sorry Min, I didn’t mean for anyone to get hurt.” You find yourself sniffling without realizing and you hear Minho sigh softly above you before you're stunned further by feeling him pull you into his arms and against his chest.

“I know you didn’t, but kitten, you need to think about these things because the risk is very real. Just think about what happened to Seungmin today and that was nothing compared to what it could have been. So when I tell you stuff you need to listen okay?” He’s pulling back, looking at your face, and brushing away the tears. As much as he wanted to see you cry this was not at all the reason he wanted it to be for. When you nod he kisses your forehead, “So you’re going to listen from now on then?”

“Yeah.” You nod again though there’s a hint of hesitance still there and Minho has to quickly hide his smirk noticing your personality still shows itself.

“Well then you should have no problem proving it to me while I punish you little kitty.” His words make your brows knit in confusion as you look up at him.

“Punish?” Your question makes Minho laugh a little bit and smirk. Turning you to face away from him and bend over the counter some, leaning in right beside your ear.

“Yep, after all, you were so bad today and you tried so hard to piss me the fuck off. So it’s time someone shows you how to be responsible for your actions. This is what that kind of behavior gets you.” He whispers against your ear, nipping at the shell of it before pulling back to immediately land a harsh smack to your clothed ass.

“Min!” You shriek and he chuckles, landing another few smacks before he speaks up again.

“What, you can’t take a little pain? This isn’t really as bad as what those men would have done to you had they got you. So take it like a good kitten for me, yeah?” He bites his lip when you nod, sniffling softly. Part of him wants to make you answer him verbally, but then again there would be plenty of time for that. The man takes his time in making your ass sore before pulling down your jeans, the rough fabric making the raw flesh sting a little bit more. Minho chuckles as two fingers brush feather-light over the damp patch of your panties, “What’s all this from? A spanking? Or is it because secretly you’ve wanted me all along?”

This time when you squirm, whining deep in your throat Minho isn’t having it. His hand crashed down onto your ass again despite the marks already left there, hissing out his next words harshly, “ Answer the question slut.”

“It’s..” You bite your lip, squirming again as your skin heats in embarrassment, “It’s you, love riling you up Min.”

“Fuck I know you do kitten, if only I knew it was because you wanted me to do this sooner. Would have put you in line a long time ago.” Minho responds with fingers rubbing over your clothed clit, far too light to get you anything like what you wanted. Though your whines and squirming don’t get that either, only rewarding you was a few more spanks.

“Please, Min.” You start to resort to begging quicker than either of you expected, but it excites him, making him chuckle. Also leading him to give you false hope as he pulls down your panties, though he doesn’t touch you yet, instead leaning over you and pressing your soiled panties between your parted lips.

“Oh none of that now, doesn’t matter how pretty you beg you’re not getting out of this not until I’ve had my fill of punishing you.” Then he’s pulling back and dipping his fingers between your folds finally rubbing at your clit with enough pressure to make your knees weak. He no longer seems to show any patience with the way his fingers are moving now, bringing you to the edge as quickly as he possibly can before his hands fly off you before you can reach your release. Throwing his head back with a moan as he hears the way you’re begging and whining around your panties, worried that he might just give into you before he wants to, but then he remembers all the times you pissed him off so much and he’s back to being sadistic.

He waits for you to calm down completely again before he touches you again, slow and soft at first as he circles your entrance before a finger slips in, thumb finding your clit and once he hears you moaning at everything again he speeds up bringing you to the edge quickly again before he pulls back once more. The cycle continues like that for what feels to you like hours, Minho giving you just a little more each time until your tears are streaming down your face and your legs can’t stop trembling due to your need. Then he’s reaching to grip your jaw and lift you up against his chest, removing your panties to hear your begs unfiltered now.

“Please Min I’ll do anything, please. Just don’t take it away again.” You’re pleading between hiccups and it makes him hum, you feel the way it shakes his chest and then he’s helping you to your knees in front of him.

“Suck me like the sloppy little slut you are and maybe I’ll give it to you.” He smirks at how you scramble to free him from his pants, lips instantly wrapping around him. Minho catches himself throwing his head back to moan, refusing to do so and lose the beautiful sight before him. You take his cock down your throat so well and he’s not sure if your tears are from the edging or this. You bring him to the edge quicker than he’d like to admit, but his pride makes him hold out a little longer, that and the fact that he wishes he could see you like this… use you like this, all the time. “Good kitty, gonna take all of me when I cum yeah?”

The way you moan wanting what he just asked so badly makes him smirk as he knows he has something else in store. Pulling out and cumming on your face instead, “Too bad that’ll have to wait until next time.”

The way you pout up at him with watery eyes makes him growl, leaning in to kiss you rough before pulling away to help you stand again. He takes you back to the bathroom attached to the bedroom and cleans you up while you watch him, brows furrowed.

“You’re not gonna fuck me?” You look so saddened at the thought that Minho can’t help but to kiss you a little softer now, turning you to put some balm on your raw ass.

“You did so good for me kitten, but no. Not tonight. You still have to prove to me that you can be good for a little bit, yeah? So be good the rest of tonight and you’ll get a reward I promise.” He assures you, helping you into fresh panties and a shirt of his before taking you to sit on the bed, checking on how you’re feeling, “I’ll be back in just a moment.”

He goes to the kitchen to warm up some pizza for you both, bringing you some as he takes a spot beside you, letting you lean against his chest, his arm around you. Only when he finishes first, that hand moves to gently brush at your hair.

“You’re moving slow, sleepy?” He’s much softer now, a kind of soft that you haven’t even seen him be with the boys unless they were really injured. Yet, here he was with you like this now. When you just nod with a small yawn he smiles, “You had a long day, you need rest. I’ll be back to keep you warm.”

He assures taking your plates back to the kitchen and cleaning up before returning to your sleeping form and taking his place beside you. Your night is peaceful in his arms until your dreams start turning more erotic, the sight of Minho between your legs while pinning them to the mattress riddling your mind. Only when you slowly blink your eyes open do you find that the thought wasn’t a dream, not fully when you find Minho in that very position looking up at you with a fire in his eyes.

“Told you I would reward you if you were good.” He mumbles against your clit before sucking harshly, “Gonna make you cum once for each thing you were good for and took for me kitten.”

You hum in appreciation at the thought before the words fully register and you realize just how many times that implied he would make you cum. Looking down at him with wide frantic eyes you’re met with his smirk.

“Can’t wait to get started either. You’ll be good and take them all, yeah? That way you can finally earn my cock like you want so badly.” He can’t help but play a little coy as he talks so filthily to you and it makes you throw your head back with a moan already feeling close to your first orgasm of what would no doubt be a long full night of them, but then again you’d learned better than to deny him.

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