#objects of gaze and manipulators of gaze

[octaviasdread]

Jean Rhys, Cambridge Studies In African And Caribbean Literature by Elaine Savory

good news for my fellow writers 🥰

[joonjuul]

hii im the same person who said i refresh ur page everyday idk if u remember 😭 idk if this is something u would be into doing but a req id love to see is like maybe kidnapped.. stockholm syndrome dom!(whoever) x sub!reader i think itd be so cute and i love ur writing so much <3 pls lmk if this is too much i can req smth else..

bound2. jjk

pairing: kidnapper!jk x victim!reader

wc: 5.4k

warnings: obsessive!jk, possessive!jk, soft&harddom!jk (he’s a little bit of both), slightlysadistic!jk, sub!reader, desperate!reader, they’re both down bad, kidnapping, oc sleeps in a grungy basement, slight choking, slight manipulation, rough sex, unprotected sex (wrap it up), creampie, oral (f receiving), jk is a munch, overstimulation (f receiving), pet names, (pls lmk if i missed anything!)

a/n: tysm anon for requesting !!! i love this idea so i hope i did okay executing it for you !!! this was a hot mess to write but god am i a mess rn after writing it phew, PREPARE YOURSELVES

he was a good man, that was what he told himself when he looked in the mirror each morning.  he was protecting you, loving you, providing you with all the attention and care you deserved.

or at least that’s what he thought.

it’s been two years now, but things felt different.  when jungkook first saw you, he was intrigued, almost as if it was love at first sight.  you were at home, spending time in your garden as you often did in the spring, and he happened to be driving by.

everything about you was special, unlike any other.  the way your hair carefully trailed over your shoulders, your perfectly smooth skin.  he had never seen a woman quite like you, and he needed to know more.

each day he found a way to get closer to you, whether that be by finding out which grocery stores you shop at, or sitting beside you on the train.  never once did you notice that his face became slightly more familiar with each ‘coincidental’ bump into each other.

it wasn’t until the day he spoke to you did he realize that you needed to be his.  girls didn’t smile at him, nevermind speak to him so kindly and softly.  it was so simple, yet it changed the course of both of your lives completely.

but it’s been two years now.

it was scary at first, being away from home, unsure of whether or not you’d survive, but he cared about you.  he always made sure to feed you, bring you water, spend time with you.  and with each passing day you only became closer, and closer.

and when he wasn’t around, you started to notice a strange feeling inside of you — almost like a sense of anxiety.

it was almost like after all this time, there was a sort of attention he gave to you that you subconsciously craved, it was like you couldn’t live without it, and as strange as it was, it didn’t feel wrong.  after all, jungkook was a good man.  he never laid a hand on you, nor touched you without your consent, in fact he rarely touched you at all unless you initiated it.  it was like after all this time, you knew that he could be trusted, and that he simply cared about you in ways that were different from others.  in some ways, his love was beautiful.

“y/n?” you heard the softness of his voice as he opened the door to your room, the warmth of the main house seeping into the surrounding concrete as he shut the door behind him and approached your fragile frame.

you turned to face him, eyes lighting up as your gaze fell to his hands, carefully holding a small box perfectly wrapped and topped with a bow.

“kookie!  what’s this?” you lunge forward to grab the box only to watch his hands quickly retreat.

“ah ah ah!  not so fast, little one.  now tell me, do you know what today is?” he softly falls down to your level, his knees meeting the cold floor as he watches you rearrange your stance on the flimsy mattress.

you nod your head excitedly, “it’s been two years!  i marked it on my calendar every day!” your eyes flick to the small calendar taped to the wall, each day crossed off with a blue crayon as they were the only objects he let you have when you first arrived.

“yes that’s right, baby!  happy anniversary!” he extends his hands to you and watches as you excitedly grab the box, peeling the paper off quickly until you’re met with what seems to be a box made for jewelry.

“listen, before you open it any further.  i want you to know that i think you’re ready for this.  i feel like we’re strong enough, and i think you’ve finally come to your senses about what’s good for you and what’s not, yes?” his tone is gentle, but you can feel the seriousness through his voice as you look up at him.  the way his brows furrowed tightly together made you nervous.  he’s never gotten you a present so formally before.

your fingers fumble with the box briefly until you’re able to lift the top.  your eyes widen as your heart pauses in your chest briefly, your breath immediately becoming shallow.

“what is this?” your voice is shaky as you wrap your hand around the small metal object.  it was certainly a metaphor, or maybe even a bluff, he couldn’t be serious.

“your freedom, if you so choose, darling.” he smiles at you reassuringly before tucking a hair behind your ear.  you tighten your grip on the key, realizing now how serious this truly is.

he was letting you go?

“i don’t understand, kook.”

he lets out a small sigh before sitting on the mattress beside you.

“i think you’re ready to choose whether or not you want to stay.  you know now how much i love you, how well i’d take care of you, adore you, in any way i possibly can.  you have me wrapped around your finger, sweetheart, but i no longer feel obligated to keep you wrapped around mine if it’s not what you want.” he places gentle pats on the back of your head as he speaks, the small smile on his face reminding you that he’s being truthful, yet still you were unsure.

“do you not… want me anymore?”

his eyes widen at your question as he uses his hand on your head to pull you against his chest.

“of course i do, baby.  this is something i’ve been thinking about for a while, i wanted to simply show you how much i love you, never bring any harm to you.  sure i may have became a little overzealous, but at the end of the day, i want you to be safe and happy.  if that’s with me, you can come upstairs and join me the way you deserve.  if not, i’ll let you go.” you pull away from his chest, cheeks feeling warmer than before as you listen to his words.

you missed your home, your family, your life.  but you knew if you left, you’d miss him even more.  your body was screaming at you to run, use the key and finally escape, but your heart was begging you to stay.

your eyes flicker between his for a moment.  you’d never even seen the rest of his house.  what if it was cozier than yours?  what if it was better than home?  he did take awfully good care of you, and you were beginning to enjoy his company, his endless affection.

you gripped the key tighter momentarily before holding it back out to him, placing it gently in his palm without a word.

he looks at you, his eyes filled with surprise as he wraps a hand around yours.

“are you sure?” his voice is soft, laying over you almost like silk as you carefully nod your head in return.

“i’m sure.  i want to stay.  i want to be with you.” you watch as his eyes light up, his reassuring smile now turning into a huge grin as he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you into him tightly.  his breath is warm against your neck as he inhales your scent in deeply, his fingers tightening against your waist before letting you go completely.

“i knew you were the one, the second i laid eyes on you.” he brings his hands up to the sides of your face, cupping it gently, the feeling of his hands against your cheeks making your stomach flutter.  if there was one thing about jungkook, it was that he was a gentleman.  within the two years you’d been ‘held captive’, he never once made any advances towards you.  you’d be lying if you said you didn’t wish he would at times — the nights where you find yourself with your hands between your thighs, imagining what it would feel like to have him there instead, what his perfectly tattooed arms would look like on either side of your head, or his skilled fingers inside of you.  even the slightest touch from him could drive you into a frenzy, especially since the last time you’d been with a man was well over three years now.

you quickly shake the thoughts from your mind and send him a gentle smile, feeling him engulf a hand within yours as he walks you to the door of your bedroom.

“are you ready, sweetheart?” he turns back and looks at you carefully, examining your expression for any signs of discomfort or uncertainty, but there was none.  he was your person now, it just took you being kidnapped to realize it was him all along.

“i’m ready.”

you follow behind him, practically stepping on his feet with excitement as he travels throughout the house, letting you look at every nook and cranny you wanted, before you finally landed on his bedroom.

“this is my room, our room, darling.” he opens the door carefully, allowing you to enter freely as you slowly walk in.  it was simple, yet dark.  the walls were painted black, bed littered with blankets and various instruments scattered throughout the room.

you approach a guitar leaning against the wall, leaning down to examine the stickers plastered on the wood.

“do you play?” you ask, your voice gentle as you trace the pads of your fingers against the strings.

“sometimes.  not as much anymore.” he takes a seat on the bed behind you, watching you carefully.  he’d never seen you so intrigued in something before, not something related to him, it was almost vulnerable.

“why’d you stop?” you turn your head slightly, landing on his built figure sitting on the bed calmly.

he shrugs, leaning forward so his arms were resting on his knees.  “something came up.” he smirks, and you can feel your cheeks blush at the thought of him putting his life on hold to take care of you.

you stand up, approaching the edge of the bed and sitting beside him.

“kook, can i ask you something?” your eyes are wide as you face him, somehow still filled with innocence and he can feel his dick twitch at the sight of you sitting so politely on his bed, what would now be both of yours.

“of course, darling.”

you gulp slightly, subconsciously fidgeting with your fingers as you build up the courage to talk to him in what feels like such an intimate setting.  it was different like this, without the safety of your concrete bedroom.

“how much of your life did you put on hold for me?”

jungkook chuckles slightly at your question, but tries to respond as best as he can.  “well, most of it, baby.  i still work obviously, but you’re kinda time consuming.”

“do you have like… friends?”

“i have you.” he reaches up and tucks a hair behind your ear as he speak, causing another wave of butterflies to rush through your stomach.

you pause for a moment, gaining a little bit more courage as you speak again.

“do you have like, girl friends?”

jungkook quirks a brow at your question.  “what are you getting at, baby?”

you continue to fidget slightly as you speak.  “well you must’ve… dated girls, right?  i don’t know you don’t talk about stuff like that.”

jungkook smiles at you, admiring your cuteness, “i’ve dated women, yes.  but none like you.  and none since i met you.”

“did you… do this with them too?”

his cheeks flush at your question, slightly embarrassed at the situation he got himself in by meeting you.

“no, you’re the only one.  and honestly, i didn’t really plan for it.  i just had to have you.” his voice is laced with desperation as he speaks, recalling the moments leading up to your kidnapping.  he knew there was no avoiding how you made him feel, it was like his desire for you overpowered every moral and every fiber in his body.

“why are you asking all this, love?” his voice is soft as he places a finger under your chin, lifting your face to his level.

“i don’t know.  it’s just— it’s hard to explain— when you’re down there— i don’t know— sometimes i get—“

“needy?”

you feel a heat rise between your legs at his voice, the words falling past his lips, the closeness of his skin, all of it.  you’re only able to send a small nod to him in response.

“i know, i understand.”

your eyebrows furrow together, “you do?”

“well you didn’t think i would leave you in that room completely unattended, did you?  i gotta keep an eye on my girl.” you feel a sense of confusion wash over you at his words, until it’s followed by a wave of realization.

cameras?

all those times you laid atop your blankets, fingers between your legs, forehead covered with a sheen of sweat, moaning out… moaning out for him.

you feel your cheeks flush as you pull away from his touch in embarrassment, causing him to chuckle slightly, moving closer to you in response.

“don’t be embarrassed, baby.  it’s normal, i mean you were down there for so long, you had to do something to keep yourself busy, hmm?”

“why didn’t you tell me?  why didn’t you… help me?” the twiddling of your fingers has intensified now, your skin practically burning up as you avoid his gaze.

jungkook smiles at you, even if you didn’t see it, and takes your fumbling hands in his reassuringly.

“because i knew you’d stop.  i wouldn’t take away the only thing you could do to keep yourself satisfied.  and i didn’t want to touch you until you were ready, until you asked for it.” as comforting as his words were, knowing that he cared about you enough to respect your boundaries, you wanted to scream at him.  all those nights that you were writhing in desperation, and he was simply watching upstairs?

he watches as your eyes dart aggressively, your mind wandering and he taps your hands gently, pulling them closer to him.

“hey.  i know it doesn’t feel like it, but you’re in control.  you always have been.  trust me, it was hard for me too.”

“how did you do it?  how did you not come in?” jungkook remembers every time like it was engraved in his mind.  he always checked up on you throughout the day, he had motion alert notifications, and the first time he saw it, he almost went breaking down your door.  he never missed an alert after that.  every time you were moaning downstairs, he was moaning upstairs.  the thought of you both gaining pleasure from each other, at the same time, without the other knowing drove him more wild than the fact that he wasn’t the one being able to satisfy you.  but jungkook was a patient man, he never wanted to rush you nor make you feel pressured into doing something you didn’t want to.  he knew when the time was right, you’d be begging for him the same way he begged the universe to let you fall into his life.

“good self-control?” he responds carefully, gauging your reaction as your face contorts with confusion.

he places another hand under your chin, gripping it slightly and holding it to face him.

“i didn’t want it to be like that.  you deserve more.  you deserve all of me, all i have to offer, and that definitely isn’t it.” he speaks again.  you were unable to distinguish your emotions.  why did your body crave him so bad?  crave his comfort, his validation?  you constantly ached for his touch, his attention — it felt almost sinful.

“i want all of you, kook.  i have for a very long time.” you place your hands on his chest for what might be the first time ever.  his shirt tight against his muscles, you wanted to roam every inch.

he lets out a groan, your words and touch making his pants tighten.  he didn’t lie when he said he hadn’t been with anyone since long before he met you.

“you don’t know what you’re asking, baby.” his voice is strained, his hands falling to his sides as he pulls away from your touch.

“tell me you don’t want me, and i’ll stop.” your hands begin to travel, running over his taught muscles, down to his stomach.  every inch of skin untouched, the tension only growing thicker with each passing second.

“if i start i won’t be able to stop.” his restraint was frustrating, but it only made you want him more.  your hands continue to fall before landing on the waistband.  he tosses his head back quickly before grabbing your hands.

“then don’t.  you don’t have to be gentle with me, i don’t want gentle.” you lean forward, your face only inches away from his as you wait for him to release your hands, to allow you to finally become one.

“you don’t have to hold back anymore.” your voice is nearly a whisper as you slowly close the distance between the two of you, placing a gentle kiss on his lips.  you pull back briefly, eyes scanning his carefully before you feel him release your hands, bringing his up to your face before pulling you into him — your lips meeting passionately.

he was consuming, his lips feverishly fighting against yours as his hands fall to your waist, pulling you closer towards him.  everything about him was hot, his skin, his mouth, his breath, it was all too much, especially after so long.

he brings a hand around your neck, gripping it slightly before pulling you off him.

“i tried to be patient.  i tried to be good.  but you?  you don’t want good, do you?” his voice is low as he uses his hold on your throat to push you against the bed, your back meeting the soft mattress gracefully as you watch him bring his hands to the neckline of his shirt, pulling it over his shoulders swiftly.

he was… beautiful.

the tattoos scattered perfectly along his arm, his sensually toned stomach, the shaggy hair sat atop his head — he was indescribable.

he smirked playfully and leaned down above you, ducking into the crook of your neck to place gentle kisses on your skin.  you could feel yourself go red, a heat overwhelming your body from your face to your core.

“i need to feel you, taste you, make you mine in every way possible.” his voice is husky, but barely a whisper as his mouth travels down to your collar bone, his hands easily finding the hem of your shirt to tug it over your head quickly.

“so beautiful.” he breaths, his mouth latching onto any piece of skin he can find, his hands roaming your body skillfully as your eyes wire shut, your panting and whining the only sounds filling the room.  he made you wait so long, how could you possibly contain yourself now?

“kook, i can’t — think…”

“then don’t.  just let go.  i’ve got you.” he brings his hands to the waistband of your pants, carefully bringing them down almost as if he could break you, a deep contrast to his roughness before.  your mind is completely lost, totally consumed in his every movement that you don’t even realize his gaze fixated on your core.

“fuck, baby.  you’re soaked.” he falls between your legs, his grip on your knees spreading you apart even further as he inhales your scent, watching as your body quivers.  he runs his hands along your legs, a small attempt to soothe you as he drops his face eye level to your core.

“shh, i know, baby.  it’s a lot, isn’t it?  but you can take it.” he places a small kiss on your clit and watches your body jolt in response, a small grin appearing on his lips as he realizes just how sensitive you really are, his hands falling to your waist to hold you down as he licks a stripe up your core.

you’re unable to contain the moan that escapes your throat as your hips buck up involuntarily, his hold barely doing anything to keep you in place.

“look at you—so sensitive, so perfect for me.  you can take it, right baby?” his eyes meet yours for a moment, your chest heaving as you nod in response, your hands falling to his hair as you grip it tightly, admiring his cheeky grin before his face disappears between your thighs, his mouth immediately latching onto your core.

“ooh—fuck.” you moan out, his hands fighting against your hips as you attempt to grind against his tongue freely.  every lick sending shots through your body as your mind begins to spiral.

it made you drunk—he made you drunk.  it was like you could feel every bump on his tongue, the pressure of his finger tips in your sides, the feeling of his soft hair twisted between your knuckles.  it was perfection, and you were wasted on him.

you can feel yourself begin to melt into him, his tongue endlessly working on your core, slipping between your clit to your center as his grip on your sides loosen as he feels you begin to relax.

“k-kook—fuck—please.” you mumble nonsense, the feeling of his hand gliding from your side to your stomach as he presses down gently making you almost dizzy, his mouth never once fumbling as he keeps up a persistent pace, your movements now less rutty and more intense as you ride his face softly.

your legs begin to tense, a coil in your stomach building as you clench around his head tightly, causing him to gently pry your knees apart as he pulls away from you, his chin dripping with your juices as he wipes it with the back of his hand.

“that’s my girl.” he coos, his hands landing on his boxers as he begins to peel them off.  “you’re doing so good for me… think you can take a little more?” his question rings aimlessly through your head as you watch his cock spring free, the tip red and angry as it leaks precum.

he was big.  i mean you hadn’t been with anyone in a long time so you didn’t have much to compare him to, but he was certainly bigger than you were used to.

jungkook notices your hesitation and leans down, his lips meeting yours in an intimate kiss, your mouths moving together skillfully before he pulls away.  his eyes are soft, almost reassuring as you feel the head of his cock press softly between your legs.

“look at me, baby.  i need to hear you.” he nudges your chin with his finger to redirect you.

your body is humming, on edge, oversensitive yet somehow you still crave more.  it’s like he could never give you too much, you just want him completely and fully, whether it hurts or not.

“i don’t know if i can take it all.” your voice is shallow as you feel a sense of shyness take over, your nervousness getting the best of you.

he smirks darkly and brings his tattooed hand up to your face, soothing the stickiness of your skin with his simple touch.

“my sweet girl, i’d never give you more than you can take.  i’ve got you, baby.  just let go.” his voice is sweet, the sound almost sending you into coma as you feel the head of his cock nudging at your core.  his hands carefully fall to either side of your head, his mouth dipped into the crook of your neck as he peppers gentle kisses on your hot skin, the dull burning in your core barely noticeable behind the mindless praises he whispers into your ear.

“that’s it, baby.”

“so perfect for me.”

“fuck—you’re so tight.”

“just a little bit more, sweetheart.” 

before you’re able to fully respond or digest his words, he’s already bottomed out.  his forehead buried in your neck as his breath is unsteady.  he’s practically panting as his hips stall, the silence filling the room as he tries to regain his composure.

“kook—“ you whine, wiggling your hips slightly until he quickly brings his hands down to hold you in place.

“fuck—i need a second, baby.  don’t move.” his voice is laced with desperation and tiredness as his cock twitches inside you, making your stomach nearly flip.

your movements become restless now, your body fighting against his hold as you beg for some sort of friction.

“please… i need to feel you.” your voice is a whimper as your breath quickens.

“stop fucking moving, or i’ll take my dick out of you.” he snaps, his tone no longer a warning as you fight the urge to grind up into him.  you’d never seen him so mad before, and it was only making you want him more.

your body trembles as you fight the urge to hold still, your hips shifting involuntarily as hushed whimpers fall from your lips.  you wanted so bad to be good for him.

“kook—please.” you beg.  he lifts his face to meet yours, his eyes hooded and low as he sees how fucked out you look, he wanted nothing more than to destroy you right then and there.

“if you don’t stop, i’ll take you how i want you, right now.” he shoots you a glare, but it’s not one of dominance, but rather a warning, one of his slipping self control.

“i don’t care… take me, just please don’t make me wait.” you beg, and with one last rut of your hips, he’s pushing you deliberately further into the bed as he pulls his hips back and begins a rough pace on your cunt.

the speed takes you by surprise as you double over, your arms instinctively gripping his back as your nails drip down his skin, his cock prodding the lower half of your stomach with his length.

“you just don’t know how to shut that pretty little mouth of yours, do you?” he grunts, the feeling of your nails in his back only spurring him on more as he continues his tireless pace.

“oh-fuck-jungkook.” the feeling of his cock stretching you completely is nearly painful, it’s like he was punishing you, the roughness of his thrusts sending shockwaves through your body.

“this is what you wanted, isn’t it?  you wanted me to lose control, to fuck you like this.” he wraps an arm under your knee as he pushes it against your chest, the new position sending your head spinning as his cock drills directly against your g-spot.

“t-too much, kook—“

“aww my pretty baby.  you were practically begging me to fuck you like this, and now you can’t take it?” his tone mocks you, mocks your state and your eyes widen as you feel him begin to slow his hips.

“come on, i want to hear you beg for it again.  you wanted it hard, remember?” he smirks down at you as his hips nearly come to a complete stop.

you’re now a whimpering mess, your lower body squirming as you whimper out to him.

“what is it baby, hmm?  do you want more or not?” he leans down, his head in the crook of your neck again as he breathes out, his cock slowly stretching your walls as he awaits your response.

“ugh—kook.  please.” he smiles into your skin as he hears you fall back into a vulnerable state, losing any sense of control you thought you might have as he begins to pick up his pace again, moving your legs to wrap around his waist as he rolls his hips up into you sensually.

“such a whiny little brat.  is this better for my baby?” his voice is deep, the raspiness of it sending a shiver down your spine as your body naturally meets his movements, the two of you moving perfectly in sync as he molds into you, your hands gripping his shoulders tightly.

every thrust, every roll of his hips, random kiss on your neck or whisper into your ear, it was all deliberate.  it was like he knew your body perfectly without ever touching it, like he knew exactly what buttons to press that made you want to claw the skin off his back, and it wasn’t long before you felt the coil in your stomach return.

your moans are falling freely now, your grip on his shoulders tightening as you find anything to ground you, but your mind was completely lost in the moment, spinning nearly a million miles an hour, and it wasn’t long before jungkook noticed your dilemma.

“that’s it, just like that… you’re close, aren’t you, baby?” he rasps into your ear, his kisses falling down to your collarbone as he brings his hands up to your head, soothingly pushing the hair out from your face, and it only made the coil in your stomach tighten more.

you were a moaning mess, everything falling freely from your lips without any sense of reasoning.

“look at you, so desperate for it.” he speaks carefully, pulling away from your chest.  he brings a hand to the back of your head before pulling you into an intense kiss, his hips still holding their pace perfectly as you finally topple over the edge, your body convulsing around him as your legs shake relentlessly, causing him to bring his other hand to the legs around his waist to stabilize them quickly.

before you’re able to fully grasp how hard you came, you feel him gently lay your head back down before bringing his body up above you, admiring the mess between your thighs as his pace begins to get rougher again.

“you have no fucking idea how good you feel, do you?” he feels his balls twitch at the sight of your legs, covered in a mixture of your juices, shaking relentlessly as you try desperately to recover from your high, blissfully unaware of his quickening pace.

“ahh-kook.” you squeal, your mind finally returning as you feel his cock nudge your already sensitive g-spot with every thrust.

he leans down once more, gripping your hands in his as he brings them over your head to hold you in place, your body fighting involuntarily from the dull pain building inside of you.

“fuck, i don’t want to hurt you baby, but i need you so bad… just hold out a little longer.” his thrusts are messy as he feels himself begin to reach his high as well, the tightening of your cunt only making it harder for him.

“i can’t—too much.” you squeal out, your arms wiggling harshly in an attempt to escape his hold, but it’s no use, not when he’s so close, not when you feel so good.

he feels his cock twitch at your resistance, a sadistic side of him brewing, one that he’s fought to keep hidden.

he stifles a groan, his head dipping down as he fucks into you rougher.

“fuck—please don’t beg, you’ll just make it harder.” 

his hips are now at an inhumane pace, your body going completely numb as his cock drills into you relentlessly.  it seems like it’ll never end, your cunt only getting tighter with each thrust as every nerve inside of you begins to tense.

“fuck—close baby.” he barely whispers before you feel his hips bottom out inside of you, his cum filling you up completely as it seeps into your walls with ease.

he ducks his head down, catching his breath for a moment before realizing the intensity of the situation.  he brings his hand down to his cock and pulls it out carefully, trying his best not to fixate on how perfect your cunt looked when it’s pulsing red and spitting out his cum.

he quickly addresses the state of your body, shaking under his touch as he wraps an arm around your back and pulls you close to him.

“you did so well, baby.  are you okay?” the gentleness of his voice pulls you back to reality and you find yourself quickly falling into his arms, his touch consuming you indefinitely. 

you nod against his chest, your frame feeling slightly more fragile than normal as he swiftly picks you up and carries you to the bathroom, cleaning you as best as he can.

“my sweet girl, you’re mine, you’re safe.” he coos, peppering affectionate kisses and touches on your skin with every piece he cleans.

it was like you were meeting him all over again, a different side of him that you had yet to experience.  even if it was scary at first, you knew that you couldn’t live without him, even if you wanted to.  you were his whether you liked it or not.

[pucksandpower]

Clickbait

Toto Wolff x Ferrari team principal!Reader

Summary: in which a reporter learns not to mess with the power couple of Formula 1 … the hard way

Based on this request

The bustling newsroom of BusinessF1 magazine hums with activity as Graham Lowell, a junior reporter with more ambition than scruples, hunches over his laptop. His fingers fly across the keyboard, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth as he types out what he believes to be the scoop of the century.

Conflict of Interest in the Pit Lane: Ferrari and Mercedes’ Love Affair

Graham leans back, admiring his handiwork. He’s certain this article will catapult him to journalism stardom. Little does he know, he’s about to learn a harsh lesson in the dangers of sensationalism.

As the article goes live, the Formula 1 world erupts into chaos. Social media platforms light up with speculation and outrage. Within hours, the story spreads like wildfire, reaching the very subjects of its scandalous claims.

In the Ferrari motorhome, you stand before a group of wide-eyed team members, your voice steady despite the storm raging inside you. “I assure you, these allegations are completely false. Our team’s integrity is not, and will never be, compromised.”

Your phone buzzes incessantly in your pocket, but you ignore it. You know who it is, and you know you’ll need to face him soon enough.

Across the paddock, in the sleek confines of the Mercedes garage, Toto Wolff paces like a caged lion. His usually calm demeanor is nowhere to be seen as he barks orders into his phone.

“I want our legal team on this immediately,” he growls. “This is slander, pure and simple. They’ve gone too far this time.”

As the day wears on, the pressure mounts. You find yourself fielding increasingly hostile questions from reporters, their microphones thrust aggressively in your face.

“Is it true that you’ve been passing Ferrari’s secrets to Mercedes?” One shouts.

“How long have you been manipulating race results?” Another demands.

You maintain your composure, but inside, you’re seething. The blatant sexism in their questions is not lost on you. They seem all too eager to believe that a woman in your position must have achieved it through nefarious means.

As you push through the crowd, a familiar voice cuts through the chaos. “That’s enough!” Toto’s commanding tone silences the mob instantly. He strides forward, placing a protective arm around your shoulders.

“My wife and I will be making a statement shortly,” he announces, his steely gaze daring anyone to object. “Until then, I suggest you all refrain from spreading baseless rumors.”

The crowd parts reluctantly, allowing you both to escape to the relative quiet of a nearby hospitality suite. As soon as the door closes behind you, Toto’s fierce expression melts into one of concern.

“Are you alright, liebling?” He asks softly, cupping your face in his hands.

You lean into his touch, allowing yourself a moment of vulnerability. “I’m fine, Toto. Just ... frustrated. They’re so quick to believe the worst of me.”

Toto’s jaw clenches. “It’s disgraceful. But we’ll fight this, together. I promise you, they won’t get away with it.”

A knock at the door interrupts your moment. Toto’s assistant pokes her head in. “Sir, the lawyers are here.”

What follows is a whirlwind of legal jargon and strategy discussions. You listen intently as your shared legal team outlines the plan of attack.

“We’ll issue cease and desist orders to every outlet that’s republished the story,” the head lawyer explains. “And we’ll be filing a defamation lawsuit against BusinessF1 magazine and the reporter responsible.”

Toto nods approvingly. “Good. I want them to feel the full force of our response. This ends now.”

As the lawyers file out, you turn to Toto, a hint of worry in your eyes. “Do you think this will be enough? The damage to my reputation ...”

Toto takes your hands in his, his gaze intense. “We will rebuild it, stronger than ever. I won’t let them tarnish everything you’ve worked for.”

Meanwhile, back at the BusinessF1 office, Graham Lowell is beginning to realize the gravity of his mistake. His editor storms into the bullpen, face red with fury.

“Lowell!” He bellows. “My office, now!”

Graham follows meekly, his earlier bravado evaporating with each step. As he enters the office, he sees his editor isn’t alone. A grim-faced man in an expensive suit stands by the window.

“Sit down,” the editor growls. Graham complies, his legs feeling like jelly.

The man by the window turns, fixing Graham with a steely glare. “Mr. Lowell, I’m representing Mr. and Mrs. Wolff in this matter. I’m here to inform you that you and this publication are being sued for defamation.”

Graham’s mouth goes dry. “But ... but I had a source! They told me-”

“A source you failed to verify,” his editor cuts in. “Did you even attempt to get a comment from either party before publishing?”

Graham’s silence is damning. The lawyer continues, his voice cold and precise. “The damages we’re seeking are substantial. Your reckless journalism has caused significant harm to my clients’ reputations.”

As the full implications of his actions sink in, Graham slumps in his chair. His dreams of journalistic glory crumble before his eyes, replaced by the stark reality of legal consequences.

Outside, the F1 paddock buzzes with new excitement. Word of the impending lawsuit spreads quickly, and suddenly, those who were so quick to believe the scandal are backpedaling furiously.

You and Toto stand united before a sea of cameras, your hands clasped tightly together. Toto speaks first, his voice resonating with controlled anger.

“The allegations made against my wife and me are not only false but malicious,” he states. “We have always maintained the highest standards of professionalism and integrity in our respective roles.”

You step forward, your head held high. “I’ve worked tirelessly to earn my position as Team Principal at Scuderia Ferrari. To suggest that my success is due to anything other than my own merit is not only insulting to me but to every woman fighting to make her mark in this sport.”

The press conference continues, with you and Toto presenting a united front against the baseless accusations. As you field questions, you can see the tide of public opinion beginning to turn.

Later that evening, in the privacy of your hotel suite, you finally allow yourself to relax. Toto wraps you in a warm embrace, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“You were magnificent today,” he murmurs. “I’m so proud of you.”

You smile up at him, feeling the tension of the day start to melt away. “We make a good team, don’t we?”

Toto chuckles, a mischievous glint in his eye. “The best. Although, I must say, I’m almost disappointed we don’t actually have any juicy secrets to share. It might make things more exciting.”

You playfully swat his arm, laughing despite yourself. “I think we have enough excitement in our lives, thank you very much.”

As you settle into each other’s arms, you know that whatever challenges come your way, you’ll face them together. The storm may rage outside, but in here, in this moment, all is calm.

And somewhere across the continent, in a small, cluttered apartment, Graham Lowell stares at his laptop screen, watching his career and reputation crumble in real-time.

Social media is ablaze with backlash against him and support for you and Toto. As he scrolls through the endless comments condemning his shoddy journalism, one thought echoes in his mind.

“I am so, so screwed.”

[vampishnes]

Sanguine Hunger: Ptichye Moloko

Chapter one, Chapter two, Chapter three, Chapter four, Chapter five, Chapter six, Chapter seven, Chapter eight, Chapter nine, Chapter ten. Pairings: Platonic!Yelena & Fem!Reader, Bob x FemThunderbolts!ExAvenger!Reader Summary: Late-night cravings drive you to the kitchen, where you find unexpected solace. Tags: No use of ‘Y/N’, Female reader, Reader is a mutant with blood manipulation powers that require her to have regular blood consumption. Slow burn! I have around 10k words of lore for this reader insert, so strap in. Beta read. Warnings: Graphic depictions of blood/blood consumption. (very) Slight descriptions of body horror. References to past trauma/violence. Word count: 3.1k

Some days were easier than others. That sanguine hunger that churned in the depths of your stomach was only a distant hum, a sound so quiet you had to tune the rest of the world out to hear. That was before the Thunderbolts, when Valentina still held both the carrot and the stick.

When Valentina dangled fresh meat over your nose, and you devoured it like the pathetic dog you were. You were always fulfilled, at least in terms of blood; you always had a victim you bled dry, and another lined up. The last eight years as a mercenary was mindless work with a simple objective: kill. Valentina used you as a warning to anyone who didn't play nice.

Things were different now as a 'New Avenger'; killing was usually frowned upon, and deaths were few and far between. So, the hum grew louder, eating at your insides like the parasite your power was.

The Thunderbolts tried to work together to find a solution, trying to think back to your old Avengers days when you had weekly blood transfusions, but after being fed for so long, it wasn't enough any more. After trial and error, the Tower's refrigerator became your own personal blood pantry—rows of crimson bags organised by type, each one a salvation from the need you fought harder than any enemy to keep contained.

Although transfusions were more desirable for everyone else to witness, feeding directly into your stomach was the most potent way to get blood into your system. At first, you took to carrying a matte black tumbler everywhere, but eventually, you grew tired of Walker's lingering gaze whenever you took a sip, his eyes fixating on the ruby stains between your teeth, his expression a shade of disgust, though he tried to hide it.

So now you only drank in the dead of night, in the comfort of your room.

But tonight was different. The day had been a special kind of hell—cameras flashed in your face during the press conference, and fighting the 'villain of the week' drained you mentally and, from using your powers, physically.

Now the kitchen, your last lifeline, remained frustratingly occupied. The rest of the Thunderbolts found themselves orbiting in the kitchen long into the night, some impromptu debriefing (that you refused to attend) became aimless conversation, their voices drifting down the hallway like a barrier between you and salvation.

It wasn't until the bright, glaring red numbers on the clock beside you read 2:12 AM that silence settled, and the telltale sound of footsteps began fading.

You waited for twenty, painstakingly long, minutes. Counting each second like a prisoner counting down the days until sweet release. You slipped from underneath the silk covers of your blanket, your mattress groaned against your weight, as if telling you to stay. Your feet made no sound against the marble flooring of the tower. The hallway stretched before you, room after room, two with light peeking out from under the cracks of the door.

Your senses picked up on the smell of fresh exposed blood just two floors down, and you could almost taste the metallic tang dancing on your tongue. You took the stairs, descending with irregular clumsiness, one hand trailing the wall for balance as a wave of dizziness reminded you how desperately you needed blood. The communal floor was supposed to be empty, dormant like the rest of the Tower.

Yet as you approached the kitchen, your nostrils flared as they caught something. Something sweet, a flavourful mixture of cocoa powder, sugar, butter, and the steady rhythm of a heartbeat. You froze mid-step, cursing silently. Someone was still awake.

Yelena was in clear view, her head buried deep into a cookbook. For a second, you thought about turning around and retreating into the confines of your room, but the painful stab of your veins convulsing brought you back to your senses. "You're not as quiet as you think," Yelena said without looking up.

Her hair was messily piled behind her head, and she wore comfortable-looking faded flannel pyjama pants and an old, beat-up white tank top. "I could hear you pounding down the stairs," Yelena continued, now looking up. Her eyebrows furrowed deep into her glabella, her top lip arching upwards in slight shock. "You look like shit. You okay?" You remained in the doorway, caught between pain and the unexpected intimacy of seeing Yelena do something so domestic.

"Drained," you replied, quick and rougher than intended. Pattering down to the fridge, you swung it open with shaking hands. Yelena nodded in quiet understanding and looked back down at the bowl in front of her. You scrambled for any bag you could reach, your hands gripping tightly at the first one you touched. The liquid sloshed around in the clear bag as you twisted the valve at the top and wrapped your lips firmly around the nozzle.

The first mouthful hit your system like electricity, flooding your withered veins with life. You tried to suppress the small sound of relief that escaped your throat, but failed. Behind you, Yelena continued working, the rhythmic sound of a whisk hitting against the side of a bowl providing a strangely soothing backdrop. No questions. No staring. No judgment.

“What are you making?” you asked after a moment, your voice already stronger, the tremor in your hands subsiding as the blood worked its magic. 

“Ptichye Moloko," Yelena replied, her hand working tirelessly, whisking a white, sweet-smelling mixture. “Couldn't sleep.” You nodded, understanding without needing elaboration. You all had your coping mechanisms. You stepped around the kitchen island and sat on a stool in front of Yelena. 

“My mother used to bake,” you offered quietly, “Challah, mainly.” You smiled crookedly, your thoughts trailing off, unprepared for the memory's sudden vividness, the smell of your mother's kitchen from a century ago. You finished off the rest of the blood bag and placed it to the side; your veins were fuller now, yet the relief was fleeting. You recognised the hollow echo still reverberating beneath your skin. You had stretched yourself too far this time, waiting until you were running on fumes.

One bag merely took the edge off; your body, depleted from your powers' exertions, demanded more.

Yelena didn't push for more, instead responding with, “If you're still awake in an hour, you can try it.” You bobbed your head; you should have returned to the solitude of your room, hidden behind the walls you had spent so long meticulously building, but instead, you found yourself walking beside Yelena to get a better look at the cookbook. It was in Russian, of course. 

“I can help, but my Russian is rusty,” you said, your eyes scanning over the words you understood. Yelena's eyebrow arched slightly, but she nodded toward the refrigerator.

“Fridge. Third shelf. Heavy cream. I hope your arm isn't weak.” A small laugh escaped your lips, unexpected but genuine. You retrieved the heavy cream from the fridge, grabbing another blood bag. You placed it on the counter beside you, trying to be casual about it. Yelena's gaze flicked to it briefly, then back to her bowl without comment. “Put it in a bowl and whip it, I'll say when you're done.” You poured the cream and began whisking it by hand; the repetitive motion was almost meditative, and for a moment, you forgot about the blood bag sitting inches away. 

“You said you knew Russian?” Yelena asked, now adding the layer of pale, thick cake into a pan. 

"Yeah. Natasha taught me. Taught me English, too," you replied tentatively, hand gripping your spatula slightly tighter in anticipation of Yelena's response. A shaky breath left Yelena's nostrils, but her mouth remained tightly shut. 

"She liked Ptichye," she said, eventually, her throat closing. "You're almost done." You felt the familiar ache rising again, eyeing the blood bag. "Just drink it," Yelena said without looking up, her hands reaching underneath a cupboard, returning with a small pot. Heat flushed in your cheeks at the notion of being caught staring. You stuttered for a moment, fumbling around for a reply. 

"I usually don't have it in front of others." 

"Why?" Yelena asked, "Because Walker? He's disgusted by everything. Yesterday I saw him scowling at my guinea pig." A laugh bubbled up from your chest. 

"People think it's weird, disgusts them. Reminds them I'm…" You drifted off, trying to focus all your attention on the stiff peaks forming in your bowl.

"Different?" Yelena finished, shaking her head. "When I was young, they made us sleep with our ankles tied to the bed frame. Every morning, my skin was raw." She lightly pressed one of the stove's digital buttons, which beeped in response. "Everyone has their scars. Some are easier to hide than others." You reached across the kitchen island as you twisted the valve and brought it to your lips; you braced yourself for the recoil you'd come to expect, but Yelena continued pouring chocolate chips into the warmed pot atop the stove, completely unfazed.

"Smells good in here," a small voice said quietly from the kitchen's door frame. You jumped lightly, immediately wiping any remnants of blood from around the rim of your mouth. Bob stood stock still on the cold flooring, his bare feet restlessly fidgeting. His hands twiddled around with the bottom seam of his blue pyjama jumper. "Sorry, didn't mean to scare you. Couldn't sleep. Could smell someone cooking."

He lingered in the doorway, backlit by the dim hallway light, his shadow stretching across the kitchen tiles. He shifted his weight awkwardly for a moment longer before walking in and sitting on a barstool. His eyes fluttered to the blood bag in your hand before snapping back up to your eyes. You smiled back at him, revealing your blood-stained teeth. 

"Bird latex," you said, presenting your bowl of whipped cream to Bob. Yelena burst out in laughter, her eyes creasing in the corners. She shook her head, her hand preoccupied with mixing the melting chocolate. 

"Bird milk. Ignore her, Bob, she is terrible at Russian." Bob's mouth hung open, his brow furrowing as if decoding a cypher. A soft "oh" escaped him. 

"It's just mousse and chocolate icing, I think." You took another mindless sip from the blood bag as you thought, moving to sit beside Bob, "Yelena's right, my Russian is terrible." The kitchen fell into a comfortable silence, only broken by the soft clinking of Yelena's spoon against the pot of melting chocolate. 

"Do you want to help?" Yelena asked, glancing at Bob quickly from behind her shoulder. Bob straightened, his shoulders tensing slightly before he nodded. "You can start assembling," Yelena instructed, pointing to the pan with cake layered at the bottom. "Cakes in. So start cream, then cake again. When I'm done, we'll put the chocolate on top." As Bob moved to help, you watched with silent amusement. He hadn't commented on your drinking, nor cared that your teeth were stained, or your breath gave off a metallic tang with every word. His eyes shot up to where your eyes watched him. 

A drop of blood dripped from your mouth and trickled down the side of your lip. Bob watched it slowly descend the curvature of your lip before your thumb swooped it up, sliding a red streak across your chin. Your tongue darted from the side of your mouth and lapped it from your finger in one careful swoop.

His Adam's apple bobbed slowly in his throat, mouth suddenly dry from watching your unintentional performance. He shook his head repeatedly, trying to remove the inappropriate imagery from his thoughts. Trying to focus on scooping up the spoonfuls of cream into the pan, his brow furrowed in concentration, as if he was defusing a bomb rather than forming a cake.

"You know," Bob said as he waited for the dessert to settle before adding another layer, "I've been thinking about starting a garden on the rooftop. Growing things. Walker says it's a waste of time, but…" He shrugged, leaving the thought unfinished. 

"Walker," Yelena rolled her eyes, "has a heart of wet cardboard." You laughed in reply and discreetly dipped your finger into the bowl of whipped cream in Bob's arms, gesturing to him in a silent plea not to tell Yelena. 

"I could help. I think it'd be a good use of all that space," you replied, and Bob's face brightened in response. 

"Really? Do you know anything about plants?"

"No," you admitted, bluntly. "But I'm a quick learner." You shrugged your shoulders and leaned back on the stool. The stove turned off with a distinctive 'beep', followed by Yelena holding a warm pot of melted chocolate. 

"You had some, didn't you?" Yelena accused, her head tilting sideways as she stared down at you. 

"No," you lied, raising the blood bag to your lips with deliberate nonchalance. You gestured with the half-empty pouch clutched in your other hand, as if its very existence disqualified your involvement. "Ask Bob." Yelena's gaze shifted to your teammate, whose guilty expression hung between you. Before words could leave his lips, you corrected yourself, "Don't ask Bob," your voice softening as a smirk bloomed across your face. Bob's laughter mingled with the clink of his spoon against glass as he settled it down, his work finished.

Yelena poured the warm chocolate over the layered dessert in one smooth motion, creating a glossy coating that immediately began to set against the cold layers. She picked it up by the base of the tray, opening the fridge with her spare hand. "It needs to set," Yelena stated, sliding the dessert into the refrigerator. "Forty minutes. Minimum."

You groaned in response, finishing off the rest of your blood bag, and you placed it beside the other empty one. You felt your power flow back into your veins, you could hear everything again - the subtle heartbeats underneath layers of clothes and skin and the sound of blood rushing through veins and travelling through hearts. All of it under your command. 

"I'll wash," you offered, sliding off your stool. The least you could do was help clean up after they'd accepted your feeding without comment.

"I'll dry," Bob added. He brought all the utensils he could gather at once to the side of the sink and grabbed one of the dish cloths. Yelena looked momentarily surprised before stepping back and raising her hands.

You settled into a rhythm, washing each utensil haphazardly and passing it to Bob, who dried it with practised fluency. It was repetitive, boring, but oddly comforting. No mission plans, no next steps, just bubbles and wrinkled hands.

Yelena had taken her temporary leave upstairs at some point, stating she'd be back down when the cake was done, leaving just you and Bob washing dishes side-by-side. "This is nice," Bob said, his voice so quiet that if you hadn't just turned off the water, you wouldn't have heard it. 

"What is?" you asked, although part of you already knew. 

"This," he gestured vaguely around the kitchen, a dripping cup still in his hand. "Normal things. Together." You smiled in response, dipping your hands back into the water-filled sink. You handed Bob the last bowl and drained the sink, watching the soapy water swirl away. 

"The garden," you said, turning to Bob. "What would you grow?" His eyes stayed focused on the bowl in his hands. 

"Anything I couldn't kill easily. I have a black thumb." You laughed in reply, tucking a piece of loose hair back with your shoulder. You couldn't help but stare at him for a moment, his face was slightly flushed, a light shade of pink.

Your ears focused on the rhythmic pattering of his heartbeat against his rib cage, steady but fierce. Your bottom lip found itself slowly trapped beneath your front teeth as you stared him down. You gulped hard, feeling the thick saliva crawl down the crevice of your throat.

"I'll buy a book," you grabbed the cloth from Bob's hands, gently pulling it from his grasp. "Start simple. Tomatoes, onions, garlic." You wiped your hands with the moist cloth, and Bob's eyes followed the movement. 

"I have a book in my room, got it a long time ago when I first had the idea." He trailed off and, realising he was starting to ramble, attempted to backtrack. "But, I mean, you can still get a book. My one is probably dusty by now, I don't even think I remember where I put it." You stopped him with a light touch on the shoulder.

"If you're not tired, after cake, we can go to your room and start planning. No clue when we'll get the next chance." His thin lips twisted into a stunned smile, and he nodded repeatedly.

The sound of footsteps interrupted your conversation, and Yelena reappeared in the doorway, a thick cardigan over her tank top. "Cake's probably done."

"Never thought I'd see the day," you said, turning around. "Yelena Belova, deadly assassin, waiting impatiently for cake to set." Yelena shot you a look. 

"And I never thought I'd see the day when the notorious bloodhound 'Vampyra' would be washing my dishes." She bit back.

"Not a Bloodhound any more," you corrected. The nickname didn't sting like it used to. "Just a regular dog. House-trained and everything." Bob laughed, and even Yelena's lips bent up. Yelena walked down to the fridge and observed the cake - it still needed more time. Instead, she pulled out the dessert and examined it. 

"It'll do," she decided, setting it on the counter. She took a knife and cut into it with no technique at all, revealing the uneven layers of cake and cream. She handed a crumbling slice to Bob and you. The stickiness attached to the skin on your hands, leaving chocolatey brown stains in its wake. You took a bite, the sweetness of the chocolate juxtaposing the stark taste of blood still resting on your tongue. It wasn't unpleasant. Bob took a much larger bite, his expression instantly softening into delight.

"This is amazing," he mumbled through the mouthful. You nodded in agreement, taking another bite of your slice. "Do you think we should do this more often?" You looked down at the cake in your hand, uncomfortable with the tenderness. 

"Why not?" Yelena said, her expression unperturbed, her voice slightly muffled by her mouthful of cake. "Kitchen's always here." You looked up to find Bob eyeing you, waiting for your verdict. 

"Sure, I'm up most nights anyway." 

[smileysuh]

good & bad

🌙 staring. Kim Mingyu & Jeon Wonwoo x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. “My new therapist says it’s healthy behavior to let Wonwoo do what he wants to do ever so often,” you explain, watching Wonwoo beat Seungcheol at the arm wrestling and proceed to down two shots in celebration. “I’m not sure how she can think him coming to frats, getting drunk, and getting into pissing contests is healthy, but hey, it’s not my job to counsel power holders.”

tw/cw. Threesome, unprotected sex, dirty talk, fingering, dry humping, horny!gyu, dom!wonwoo, Wonwoo tells virgin!Gyu what to do, hand job, Wonwoo using his power to help y/n ride Mingyu, manhandling, size kink, groping, nipple pinching, praise, degradation, voyeurism, pussy stretching, cream pie, multiple reader orgasms, etc… I pet names: (hers) gorgeous & baby.

👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 8.8k

🍭 aus. superpower au, uni au, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. I was thirsting for another Meanie fic and I came up with this super power, I'd never seen it before and I thought it would be fun :)

Prologue:

“We thought she just had an active imagination,” your mother explained, reaching over to grab your hand and give it a soft squeeze. “Most kids show signs of powers when they’re six or seven, she’s ten now, so we just thought maybe she wouldn’t have any. Her father is a none-supe, so we came to terms with it years ago.”

The doctor was looking over your family file, and she nodded softly, looking up at your mother, then to you. “When did you first see signs that these imaginary friends of hers weren’t just in her own head?”

“There were little things,” your mother admitted. “I was cooking one night and she was drawing. When I looked again, the paper next to her had this image on it- a completely different art style to what she had been doing. When I asked her who drew it, she told me that Mingyu had.”

“Mingyu is one of her imaginary friends, correct?”

“Yes, she has Mingyu, who at first was described as the ‘good’ one, and Wonwoo, the ‘bad.’”

“Something akin to an angel and devil on your shoulder,” the doctor nodded. 

“Exactly.”

“After the art incident?”

“She was outside one day, tossing a ball around, and the ball bounced back to her, like some invisible person had thrown it back. At first, we thought maybe she had some sort of telekinesis, but she told me she was playing catch with Wonwoo.”

“So this was the first instance you saw proof that one of her imaginary friends could actually manipulate real-life objects, correct?”

“Yes.”

The doctor leaned back in her chair. “Are there any other events that have happened that push you to believe these imaginary friends of hers are real and it’s not a telekinesis power?”

“Well, y/n fell off her bike last week. Her knee was all scraped up. I was about to run and get bandages when this soft glow appeared over her knee. The scrape disappeared and she told me that Mingyu had healed her.”

“Very interesting.” The doctor had looked at you then, rolling forward on her chair. “Can I see your knee, please?”

You lifted the hem of your dress, showing your leg. There wasn’t so much as a scratch where Mingyu had healed you, and your ‘imaginary friend’ leaned over the doctor's shoulder to inspect his work. 

“Can one of these imaginary friends move an object in the room for us?” The doctor had asked next. “Perhaps, a book on the shelf over there?”

“Wonwoo can do that,” you’d nodded, gazing over at the boy your age who was leaning by the door, a disinterested look on his face.

With a sigh, he’d approached the bookshelf, reaching for a copy of War and Peace. The book had clattered to the ground.

“I don’t like being paraded around like this,” Wonwoo had mumbled, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Very interesting,” the doctor nodded. “It appears there might be some power at work here. I’ve never heard of a power like this one- two imaginary friends, one of which has healing abilities. I’ll make a note of it, and we will see how the power progresses with age. It’s possible as your daughter grows, so will the strength of these friends of hers.”

“Do you mean…” Your mother looked down at you nervously. “Is it possible we’ll ever see these friends ourselves? Or do you think they’ll stay invisible forever?”

“It’s anyone’s guess on that. As I said, I’ve never seen a power like this one. All we can do is wait and see what happens.”

one 

You’re seated on a musty old couch in the middle of a loud frat party, and a large part of you really doesn’t want to be here. Even with your friend Joshua keeping you company, you’re not here for yourself, and that always feels obvious to those around you.

Your gaze keeps shifting to Wonwoo, who’s having the time of his life. He’d done a keg stand the moment you’d arrived, and now, he’s in the middle of an arm wrestle with Seungcheol, the frat president, who, like your dark protector, also has a strength power variation.

Dino, a new pledge approaches you, handing a fresh cup of alcohol to Joshua. Like you, Dino’s eyes are locked on Wonwoo. “Tell me again why that dude isn’t part of the frat? I’ve never seen anyone go toe to toe with Seungcheol like this.”

“Should I tell him, or do you want to?” Joshua grins, bumping his shoulder against your own.

“You can tell him,” you sigh. In the past ten years since you found out you had an unusual power, you’ve gotten tired of explaining it.

“Dino, this is y/n, y/n this is Dino. Dino, y/n has a power where she has two imaginary friends, except, these days, they’re not so imaginary,” Joshua begins. “Wonwoo is one of y/n’s imaginary friends-”

“Wonwoo prefers the term companions,” you quip.

“Right, one of her companions,” Joshua corrects himself. “He’s got super strength like Cheol does. The reason Wonwoo’s not in the frat is because he can’t go more than a ten-meter radius from y/n, he’s tethered to her.”

“That’s a weird power,” Dino muses.

“Don’t be rude,” Joshua snaps, smacking the pledge’s arm. “Anyways, y/n’s not a huge fan of frats, so Wonwoo can’t join because she won’t be caught dead here more than once, maybe twice, a week.”

“My new therapist says it’s healthy behavior to let Wonwoo do what he wants to do ever so often,” you explain, watching Wonwoo beat Seungcheol at the arm wrestling and proceed to down two shots in celebration. “I’m not sure how she can think him coming to frats, getting drunk, and getting into pissing contests is healthy, but hey, it’s not my job to counsel power holders.”

“You said you have two uh… companions, where’s the other?” Dino asks, looking around.

“Mingyu’s staying inside tonight, he doesn’t agree with this sort of thing,” you sigh.

“Staying in?” Dino’s brows furrow in confusion. “I thought you said there was a radius thing?”

“Staying in here.” You tap your head. 

“He’s… inside your head?” Dino’s face scrunches up in something like disgust. “You have a dude in your head right now?”

Before you can answer, another frat boy comes running up. Seungkwan looks frazzled, his shirt haphazardly buttoned, eyes wide. “Y/N!” he bellows. “Quick, I need Mingyu! Some kid is greening out and puking in the bathroom upstairs!”

In an instant, your light protector appears next to you. Mingyu stands up quickly, face already shadowed with concern. “Show me where.”

“Jesus-” Dino jumps from the sudden emergence of the six-foot-two brick wall of a man. 

“Come on,” Mingyu urges, grabbing your hand to pull you from the couch. You let out an annoyed groan as he drags you through the crowd after Seungkwan, leaving Joshua and Dino in your wake.

You arrive to the second-floor bathroom, and you wait outside while Mingyu goes to investigate. Ever since the frat found out Mingyu has healing powers, they call on him for any sort of drunken mistake, including greening out. One touch from Mingyu can clear nausea, and that’s just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to his powers.

You’re at a university dedicated to helping people train their abilities, and yet, you often feel like an outsider. It had been clear that you’d been struggling when you arrived, after all, you yourself don’t have any overt powers other than being connected to two men with astounding abilities, and that’s when you’d been assigned a therapist.

This whole ‘do things for Wonwoo and Mingyu’ idea has been a lot to wrap your head around, but you’re trying to make it work-

Wonwoo bounds up the stairs, his eyes alight with anger. “What are you two doing up here?” he practically growls.

“Mingyu’s helping some kid who greened out,” you explain.

“Of course he is, fucking knight in shining armor. Doesn’t he know this is my night? He’s ruining it with good deeds- pulled me away from beer pong.”

You sigh. “Discuss this with him.”

“I will,” Wonwoo states, pushing past you to enter the bathroom.

Releasing a deep breath, you sink against the wall, listening to the two men argue. Their words are muffled by the loud music that thrums through the house, and you don’t particularly care to know the details of their heated exchange.

You’re exhausted, and after looking at your phone for the time, you decide enough is enough. Pushing your head into the bathroom, you find Mingyu and Wonwoo holding each other by the front of their shirts, and their argument stops the moment you appear.

“It’s past midnight, I want to leave,” you sigh.

“But-” Wonwoo begins.

“That’s a good idea!” Mingyu grins.

“Wonwoo, I know this is your night, and I’m sorry, but I just can’t do this right now.”

Wonwoo frowns at your words, then releases Mingyu. “Fine, whatever. Let’s just go.”

two

“You seem agitated,” the therapist notes, watching the way Mingyu is fidgeting on the couch.

“It’s just…” he casts a sideways glance at you and Wonwoo, seated next to him with noise canceler headphones on, “I worry that they can hear me.”

“I can promise you they can’t. The noise cancellers are playing loud music. This is your time to talk with me.”

“Still…” Mingyu frowns, “it feels weird.”

“We can ask Wonwoo to go back inside y/n’s head if you’d like.”

“I don’t want that either, Wonwoo prefers to be outside.”

The therapist looks down at her notes. “Tell me more about that. What does being ‘inside’ feel like.”

“It’s dark,” Mingyu explains. “I can’t really explain it. Wonwoo and I don’t sleep, so I don’t know what sleep is like- but I’m pretty sure it’s not just dark boredom the way being inside feels.”

“Do you both have a preference for being ‘out’ then?”

“I mean… it’s a whole lot nicer than being in.”

“Have you ever discussed this with y/n?” The therapist cocks her head, and it’s clear she’s trying to understand, but Mingyu’s still not used to her.

“No. She has enough on her plate, especially now with the whole ‘give Wonwoo time to do what he wants to do’ thing.” Mingyu looks down at his hands, and he picks at his skin.

“I take it you don’t enjoy doing what Wonwoo wants to do.”

“No, and neither does y/n. My night in control is all about good food, relaxing, and watching Netflix. Wonwoo’s night in control is frat parties, keg stands, and getting into fights.”

“Sounds like comfort versus destruction.”

“Destructive is a good word to describe Wonwoo,” Mingyu admits. 

“Aside from your feelings on frat parties and keg stands and fights, do you think you each having time to choose what’s happening has been beneficial?”

Mingyu thinks about it for a moment. “Wonwoo has been less of a dick lately.” 

“That’s good news.” The therapist jots down some notes. “If I may, from the way I understand y/n’s power, you and Wonwoo are both parts of her. Opposing parts, but parts nonetheless. Do you think it’s possible that seeing as you’re both parts of her, there’s some part of y/n, perhaps even some part of you, that enjoys frat parties?”

Mingyu only shrugs.

“From what I understand, you mostly stay in during Wonwoo’s controlled times. If you weren’t so focused on disagreeing with his morals, or whatever it is you do disagree with, are there things about frat parties that you might like?”

“Maybe.” Mingyu picks at his skin again. “I do like to dance.”

“What if I challenge you to be out more at frat parties, to let loose and give it a chance?”

“I’ll do it because you’re asking me to, but I’m not sure how good it will feel.”

“Maybe that’s something to discuss at our next one-on-one.”

Mingyu can only shrug. He’s been tied to Wonwoo for over ten years now, and he doubts much could change the destructive, obnoxious way he views your darker half.

three

When you’d been accepted to a superpower-focused university, you’d been enrolled in things that would benefit both Mingyu and Wonwoo’s powers. For Wonwoo, you have to go to the gym with him and watch him lift obscene amounts of weight. The gym isn’t your favorite place, but at least you can get a workout while he trains. For Mingyu, on the other hand, he’s doing healer training in the hospital, and due to doctor-patient confidentiality, you’re stuck sitting in the hallway outside the exam room where he heals people. 

It’s quite boring. 

The one shining grace is that Wonwoo often sits with you, and the two of you watch anime on your phone together. Although Wonwoo doesn’t complain as much as he used to about being bored, you can tell from his slouched stance and heavy sighs that he’s just as tired of this whole thing as you are.

“You know,” you say, nudging him between episodes, “you don’t have to sit with me.”

“If you have to be here, I have to be here.”

“You can go back inside, I wouldn’t blame you.”

“I’m entertaining, you’re less bored when I’m here,” Wonwoo insists. “Waiting for Mingyu is boring. You weren’t bored at the frat though, because frats are infinitely more fun than hospitals.”

“It might be boring,” you admit, “but… either way, it’s nice to see you both thriving. I think this therapy thing has been helpful with seeing all sides of this power.”

“As long as you’re thriving too,” Wonwoo notes, casting you a sideways glance. “It will be girls' night soon- you can have a whole night without us.”

“For real this time?” You narrow your eyes at the man who had ‘popped out’ during your last girls' night. While you enjoy Wonwoo’s company, both he and Mingyu make it very difficult to have female friends, who always get caught up in a sense of longing for the gorgeous men. 

“For real,” Wonwoo sighs. 

“Good, because if I get propositioned by one of my friends again for them to get a chance to sleep with one of you, I might just poke my eye out with a fork.”

Wonwoo lets out a soft chuckle. “Maybe that’s something you want to talk about with the therapist in your next session.”

“Maybe it is,” you huff, hating whenever Wonwoo says something that’s actually valid.

Your eyes turn back to your phone, where the anime has progressed through its recap and intro. As boring as sitting in a hospital for hours is, Wonwoo does make it a little bit easier.

four

Wonwoo appreciates Mingyu staying inside your head for his therapy sessions. It’s less stress having only you seated next to him, your noise cancellers on, your head leaned back, eyes closed. He thinks you might be sleeping, and he’s happy you can rest while his psyche is getting poked and prodded by the therapist. 

“How are your classes going?” 

“Fine,” Wonwoo murmurs.

“Elaborate on the word fine.”

He shrugs. “Fine. Not good, not bad. Just… fine.”

“What’s the not good aspect of that?”

Wonwoo looks up at the therapist. He doesn’t want to open up, but you’ve encouraged him that this is the place to do it.

With a loud sigh, he leans back against the couch. “I guess… last week we had a class about prospective jobs for people with strength powers, and I don’t know… all the other guys have options. They could join superhero teams, make a difference- and I can’t.”

“You can’t?”

“No, I can’t,” Wonwoo repeats. “I’m tied to y/n. Anywhere I go, she has to be within a ten-meter radius. I couldn’t run into danger and worry about her getting hurt. She’s my priority, not anyone else. No matter how much I want to do more with my power- I can’t.”

The therapist cocks her head at him, assessing him with analytic eyes. “It sounds like you’re saying you feel like perhaps your skills are being… repressed, in a way.”

“I guess you could say that.” Wonwoo looks down. “I just… it’s not as bad for Mingyu. He could get a job at a hospital and y/n would be safe there. She’d be bored out of her fucking mind. But she wouldn’t be in danger. I’m starting to think that’s the best path forward, as much as I hate to admit it.”

“Do you think y/n would prefer that path?”

“I don’t know. Haven’t talked about it with her.”

“For three people so closely tied together, it seems as though there’s not as much communication about the important things as there could be.”

“We talk,” Wonwoo insists.

“When was the last time you all talked about something important?”

Wonwoo can feel hot anger bubbling up inside of him, but luckily, he has a quick example. “We talked about how we feel about this whole sharing time thing.”

“And?”

“Mingyu and I both like it, but… as much as y/n says she’s okay with it, I’m pretty sure it’s draining her to be bored all the time.”

“Earlier you said being tied to y/n has restrictions, do you think being tied to the two of you has restrictions for y/n too?”

“Clearly it does.” Wonwoo rolls his eyes. “Some days, I think she’d prefer to be powerless and be at a regular university.”

“Has she ever voiced that to you?”

“She never would, even if she felt it. No matter what it might look like to outsiders, the three of us care about each other. Or… well, I care about y/n, and so does Mingyu, and she cares about us.”

“You and Mingyu still haven’t been getting along I take it.”

“Nope.”

“And yet, Mingyu is inside right now. He’s giving you space to have a private conversation, which is a grace you don’t return when it’s his chance to talk with me one-on-one.”

“I hate being inside her head.” Wonwoo has never told you this, but most nights, when you go to sleep, he waits for you to be fully passed out before coming out again. He sits on the couch, watches anime- Mingyu’s gotten on his case for it a number of times, but Wonwoo hates boredom like he hates sand, hot weather, and the way Mingyu hums to himself when he cooks for you. “I don’t like being inside,” Wonwoo states again, more firmly this time.

“If you had your preference, how often would you be out?”

The answer comes quickly, “A hundred percent of the time.”

“And this is not something you can talk about with y/n?”

“It would make her uncomfortable,” Wonwoo says. “She never talks about it, but- she’d never had a proper relationship, she can’t with two dudes in her head or hanging around all day. I bet she can’t even touch herself without worrying me or Mingyu will pop out- I can imagine it would be very uncomfortable, and if I asked to be out all the time, it would put even more pressure on her. I don’t want that.”

“You care about her a lot.”

Wonwoo doesn’t see the need in responding.

The therapist clicks her pen. “Do you often think about these things? About… y/n’s sexual restrictions due to you and Mingyu?”

A wave of heated anger flashed over Wonwoo’s skin at the question. “I’m not a fucking pervert.”

“I never said you were, I’m just trying to understand the way this unique power affects that aspect of y/n’s life, of your life. Humans are sexual beings, and repression of desires like that can lead to anyone being pent up and frustrated.”

“If you’re asking if I’m a virgin, I’m not.”

“No?”

“Y/N’s had sleepovers with other girls since coming to university. More than one of her friends has propositioned me.”

“How frequent are these… encounters?”

“Not at all now. Y/N was getting upset with her friends falling for me, and sometimes I felt it was unfair to the girl. I can never have a relationship. On top of that, I felt bad keeping it a secret from y/n.” Wonwoo lets out a sigh. “It’s better for everyone if I keep it in my pants.”

five

Girls' night is going very well so far. You and two friends have already watched a movie, and now, while checking for your next rom-com, you’re all chatting about classes.

Jenni has ice powers, and she’s progressed an astounding amount already with how long she can use them. Yeji, on the other hand, can manipulate sound waves, and there have been all sorts of weird ways she’s adapted that for offensive and defensive situations.

It sucks sometimes to listen to them gush about their powers while you don’t really have any of your own. Besides Mingyu and Wonwoo, you feel like you’re just y/n. You yourself have no super strength or healing, no mind reading or telekinesis- you’re… just y/n, and in a university surrounded by amazing power wielders, it can be hard to hold your head high.

“Anyways, enough about us,” Jenni says, turning her eyes to you, “How are Wonwoo and Mingyu doing? I heard Mingyu’s one of the top healing power students this year.”

“Yeah, they’re doing good,” you shrug. “We’ve been spending more time at the hospital, Mingyu seems happy to be helping people.”

“He’s definitely the good one,” Yeji nods, flashing a grin at Jenni. “Are they gonna pop by tonight? They’re both uh… really hot.”

“I don’t think so… this is girls' night.”

You don’t miss the way Yeji frowns or the way she exchanges a glance with Jenni. 

“Anyways,” you turn to the TV, “should we start our movie?”

The girls nod and you begin to watch your next rom-com. You try to enjoy having just girl time, but soon, you start to get hungry. 

“How do you feel about ramen?” you ask.

“Oooh yum!” Yeji’s eyes brighten at the idea, and you immediately stand to go to the kitchen.

You haven’t even reached for a pot to boil water when you feel a presence beside you, and you turn to look up at Mingyu.

“You guys need a cook?” he grins. 

You let out a sigh, turning to see if Yeji and Jenni have noticed Mingyu, but they’re leaning together discussing classes.

“Gyu,” you whisper, “You shouldn’t be here.”

“But I thought maybe you’d wanna relax and I could cook?”

“Wait-” you narrow your eyes at him, “this is the second time in two weeks you’ve popped up at the exact time something was convenient for you. First with someone getting sick at the frat, and now with cooking-”

Mingyu looks guilty, and you cross your arms over your chest, waiting for him to explain himself. “Look… my uh… my power has been getting a little better and I kind of have a general sense for your thoughts when I’m in your head now.”

“What!?” You can’t help the way your voice raises, and you see Jenni and Yeji whip to look at you from over the couch. “Since when!?”

“Just for a bit-” Mingyu raises his hands in defense. “Look, I especially didn’t hear anything about Yeji calling me hot like two seconds ago.”

Now you’re mortified, and one look at your friend’s pink face shows you she is too-

Before you can say another word, Wonwoo appears, and he gives you a once over, then Mingyu. “I uh… sensed a disturbance in the force.”

He’s such a nerd, and in an odd way, he actually calms you down a little. “You know what? Fuck it. Mingyu, you can cook for us, but when you’re done, you’re both going to my room and wearing headphones and not eavesdropping on my girls' night!”

“Okay, you got it.” Mingyu turns to begin making the ramen, and before you can go to join your friends, Wonwoo grabs your arms.

“Uh, sorry about this,” he apologizes, and you’re shocked he’s apologizing for Mingyu’s behavior. “Neither of us really like being ‘inside,’ I think… he was just looking for an excuse not to be cooped up.”

“I’m very sorry,” Mingyu says over his shoulder.

“Look- we can talk about all of this later,” you sigh, trying to process what Wonwoo just said. “Please just- this is my night, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Wonwoo nods. “We’ll try not to be a bother.”

six

At this point, you’re pretty sure neither Wonwoo or Mingyu can hear you talking to the therapist, after all, whenever you have the headphones on, everything else is muted by music. Even so, if they were to hear you, part of you wouldn’t care.

“It was girls’ night,” you state. “Girls’ night. My night. And even though I asked them to stay inside and not interrupt, they still popped out! And it turns out, their powers have been getting better, so now, even when they’re inside, they can sense my thoughts?! I have no privacy! It’s a disaster!”

“Deep breaths,” the therapist encourages you. “I can see why that would be frustrating.”

“Very frustrating!” You let out a deep sigh, and you’re shocked when it helps calm you down. “The thing that really bugs me though- is Wonwoo said they don’t like being inside.”

“What about that bugs you?”

“Because now I feel bad- now I feel like I’m being a bad friend whenever I ask them to go back inside- but, a girl needs alone time. She needs girl time- without two hot guys walking around and making her friends drool and go all googly-eyed!”

“What about your friends ogling Mingyu and Wonwoo frustrates you?”

“I guess- it’s more than the fact that they’re both hot,” you admit. “I think- sometimes I think I feel lesser to begin with because I don’t have any overt powers. I feel powerless in a university of power holders. It’s hard to make friends if you can’t do anything flashy- I never know if girls are friends with me for me, or for them.”

“Let's touch on that feeling of being lesser for a moment, then we can circle back to everything else,” your therapist suggests. “You said you feel powerless, although, the way I see it, you have two top-tier protectors. Mingyu is the highest-ranked in his healing classes, and his professors say he’s extremely gifted. And Wonwoo is strong, he’ll protect you no matter what.”

“But those are their powers, not mine.”

“They only exist because of you. Have you ever thought about your future after this? After school?”

“Not extensively,” you admit.

“How would you feel about being outside an operating room, about Mingyu being the main breadwinner and using his powers to take care of you?”

This isn’t something you’ve ever considered, and the notion takes you by surprise. 

“Many people use their powers to make a living, Mingyu is no different, and since he’s an extension of you, allowing him to use his power to take care of things would be moral, it would be natural even, don’t you think?”

“Are you suggesting I be a pretty little stay-at-home powerless tether to a healer?” you ask.

“It’s one possible outcome if that’s something you’d be interested in.” The therapist cocks her head at you. “You enrolled in this university, obviously you care about Wonwoo and Mingyu furthering their powers- I would find it difficult to see you go through all of this only to get a regular job that doesn’t utilize them.”

“I really have not thought that far ahead.”

“Think that far ahead for a moment. Tell me your ideal situation.”

You sit there, thinking. The Mingyu outcome she’d just painted was interesting, so you dare to consider a Wonwoo option. Could you go with him on hero missions? No. He wouldn’t let you. The Wonwoo path wouldn’t be good for anyone. Wonwoo gets distracted enough about your safety when you try new weight machines.

“Maybe… maybe going forward with Mingyu’s healing career would be good.” 

“Healers with the aptitude he has go far in this life,” your therapist notes. “You wouldn’t have to worry about money, or getting hurt.”

“But what about…” You bite your tongue. When Mingyu and Wonwoo had first become visible to others when you were fourteen, it felt like a dream, but when you’d been sixteen and unable to spend time with boys for fear of one appearing- you’d started to realize the downside to having two constant protectors. You try not to think about having a relationship too often, but now that you’re being asked to consider your future, you know you’d be happier to have someone in your life five years from now- even a week from now if that was possible.

“What are you thinking?” the therapist asks.

“Just that… as years go by, I feel like my hopes for getting a boyfriend diminish more and more. If we’re talking about my future, the one thing I know for sure is that I want someone to share it with.”

“You have someone. Two someones, in fact.”

Your heart skips a beat in your chest. “Are you suggesting…”

The therapist shrugs, sending you a girlie smile, one Yeji has sent your way multiple times before. “Are you interested in either of them that way?”

“I mean… sure… look at them.” You cast a sideways glance at Wonwoo, then Mingyu. “But… would it be weird to do that? They’re part of me, aren’t they?”

“Self-love and acceptance is the most important part of life, or so many Yogi’s say.”

“Yeah, but… I don’t know, I’ve always thought maybe that would be crossing a line.”

“What line?”

“An invisible one?” you suggest, not quite having the words to explain it yourself. 

“Listen, I understand why this might be daunting. It would change the dynamic, as I’m sure you know, but, if you are looking to be romantic with someone, or two someones, I know that it would be hard to find a man who would care about you and want to take care of you the way Mingyu and Wonwoo do.”

“Is it okay for you to be suggesting this?” you ask.

“My job is to further your development, to straighten out any roughness in this dynamic. I’ve not shared this with you yet, but my power is to see auras. Whenever you talk about Mingyu or Wonwoo, your aura lightens, it’s a sign of love. Theirs lighten when they’re talking about you too. Wonwoo’s in particular is quite dark, but whenever you come up, he’s shockingly thoughtful and candid. Mingyu’s easy to read, as I’m sure you know. They both care about you, and you care about them.”

“I guess- if they feel that way, why haven’t they ever said anything?”

“You’re the boss, y/n, I think sometimes maybe you forget that.”

seven

If there’s one thing all three of you can agree on, it’s anime. Nights spent watching shows together are always very civil, and you enjoy the peace of this, even as you begin to get a little sleepy.

When you yawn for the third time, Mingyu turns to you. “Do you want to go to bed?”

“Nah, not bed, I think I just need a nap,” you explain. “But don’t worry, you don’t have to go back inside, I can just… curl up here and rest for a bit.”

You and Mingyu are on the main couch, with Wonwoo on the solo seater just next to you. You lay down, but Mingyu’s so big and takes up half of the space, so your feet end up haphazardly on top of his lap, and it’s not the most comfortable position.

“Do you want me to be the big spoon?” Mingyu suggests.

“That would be nice,” you admit.

You don’t often get that close to Mingyu and Wonwoo, but on rare occasions, when you’re feeling an extra need for protective energy, you’ve found yourself as a little spoon.

Carefully getting behind you, Mingyu opens up the space so you can stretch your legs. A soft sigh escapes you as you curl up to the pillow, with Mingyu’s warmth heating your back. 

You close your eyes, and while you are able to rest, you aren’t able to fall asleep.

Your mind is too full of thoughts about your last therapy session. Now that a professional has given you the go-ahead to explore things sexually with your two protectors, it’s frequently at the forefront of your mind. Having Mingyu’s strong body behind you isn’t helping any of these dirty thoughts, and you do your best to readjust slightly, trying to get into the most comfortable position in the hopes that you’ll pass out.

“You good?” Wonwoo asks. 

“You seem fidgety,” Mingyu notes. 

“Just thinking,” you sigh. 

Wonwoo casts you a glance. “About?” 

“Just…” Should you tell them? “I guess I had a kind of weird chat in therapy yesterday.”

“Our therapist is definitely a little unconventional,” Wonwoo agrees, and from the look on his face, you can tell he’s had an interesting chat or too as well.

“Do you want to tell us what happened?” Mingyu asks softly, his hand soothing against your arm.

“We were talking about the future,” you explain. “She asked what I wanted with my life. I hadn’t thought about it much before, but… I did tell her that one thing I’ve always wanted is a relationship. I don’t see myself getting old and being alone, you know?”

“You’ll never be alone,” Mingyu assures you, wrapping his arm tight around you to pull you close to his chest. “We’ll always be here with you.”

“And that’s the thing,” you let out a small laugh. “I’m out here wishing for a life partner, when I already have two.”

The room goes quiet, neither of your protectors say anything. You hear Mingyu take in a sharp breath, and Wonwoo looks at the man over your shoulder. There’s an unspoken communication between the two of them, and then Wonwoo’s eyes meet yours.

“What are you saying, y/n?” he asks.

“I guess… what I’m saying is…” You take a deep breath, mustering up your courage. “What if… what if we gave it a try?”

“Gave it a try?” Mingyu repeats.

“You know, it.” You look at him over your shoulder, willing him to understand.

“I think you need to spell it out for him,” Wonwoo chuckles. “He’s such a goody toe shoes he doesn’t get that you’re propositioning us for sex.”

“She’s what?” Mingyu’s lips part in confusion, and he looks between you and Wonwoo.

“I mean, unless you don’t want to-” You’re quick to try to back out of this, feeling anxious that you’d ever even brought it up.

“We want to,” Wonwoo assures you. “Mingyu’s been in love with you since we were sixteen.”

“Have you really?” you ask, blinking up at your bright protector. 

“I uh… well…” Mingyu stammers, his skin turning a cute shade of pink.

“And what about you, Wonwoo?” you turn, looking at the stoic man. “Are you in love with me too?”

“I’m the bad one, remember?” Wonwoo smirks. “As if I’d get sappy like he does.”

“I feel like that’s a yes,” you grin, heart thundering in your chest at this new development. “How come neither of you ever said anything.”

“We’re not big fans of putting pressure on you,” Mingyu says softly.

“It would also change things,” Wonwoo notes.

“Yeah, but, part of me thinks it would change things for the better,” you admit.

“So…” Wonwoo pauses your show, turning to face you and Mingyu. “Are we going to do this?”

You swallow the lump in your throat, giving a quick nod.

“Yeah?” Behind you, Mingyu presses closer, his hand caressing your arm again, his breath hot along your throat. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“I think he wants to hear you say it,” Wonwoo grins. “We both do.”

“I want…” your words falter, but you’re quick to steady yourself even as Mingyu rubs his clothed cock against your ass. “I want you both to fuck me.”

Mingyu presses his lips to your neck, it’s a soft kiss, but it sets your body on fire. You let out a sigh of delight, tilting your head to give him more access. Tingles of pleasure erupt across you as he continues to press his gentle lips to your skin, his hand slipping down to cup your hip.

He squeezes you, almost enough to hurt, and it’s a rough motion from your generally gentle giant- it betrays how he feels, how deeply he wants you, and it makes you moan in excitement.

“We should move into the bedroom,” Wonwoo directs, standing from the single sofa. “Come on,” he reaches down for you, easily lifting you from Mingyu, who lets out an annoyed whine.

Sometimes you forget Wonwoo has the power of strength, and he carries you like you weigh nothing. His gaze is forward, his intentions set on getting to your bed, and it’s so incredibly sexy you think you might die.

“How do you want to do this?” Wonwoo asks softly.

“Hmm?” You’re a little shocked at the question, and it takes you a moment to even register it. “Oh, uh… no anal?”

Wonwoo laughs, looking down at you with those pretty eyes of his. “Yeah, that feels a little advanced for you.”

“Fuck you, I can be advanced!”

“Sure you can, just not tonight.” Wonwoo places you on the bed, and Mingyu, who had been following the two of you, is quick to big spoon you again, his lips returning to your throat.

Your eyes are on Wonwoo, and after a moment of watching you, he gets onto the bed too, facing you.

“You sure you’re ready for this?” he asks, cupping your cheek.

“Uh huh.”

Wonwoo only laughs, shaking his head slightly before he brings his mouth to your own. It’s a soft kiss, and it takes you off guard. Behind you, Mingyu is getting more and more restless, all hands and tongue- but Wonwoo, in contrast, feels as cool, calm and collected as a cucumber.

At this point, Mingyu is practically dry-humping your butt, grinding his front against you and moaning. His sounds are awfully distracting, and you break your kiss with Wonwoo to look over your shoulder at the man who immediately grabs you to bring your lips to his.

Wonwoo lets out a chuckle again. “I’ve got good news and bad news. The bad news is, Mingyu’s a virgin. The good news is, that means he’ll be easy to teach.”

“I’ll be good,” Mingyu murmurs against your lips.

“Wait.” You turn to look at Wonwoo again. “He’s a virgin… you’re not?”

“I’m the bad one, you keep forgetting that,” Wonwoo laughs. “It’s not like you’re an angel either.”

That’s true, so you choose not to dwell on it. Instead, you grab Mingyu’s hand on your hip, guiding it down to your abdomen, then bellow the waistband of your sweatpants. 

“Do you want to direct him, or should I?” you challenge Wonwoo, who cocks a brow at your change in tone.

“Touch her pussy, Gyu. Tell me how wet she is.”

Mingyu moans in your ear as his hand explores further down, his fingers brushing over your clit then between your pussy lips. “Fuck, she’s so wet, and so warm-”

“Tease her a little. Her clit is at the top, it’s this small, pearl-shaped bud. Girls love it when you play with that. She’ll be dripping by the time you’re done.”

God, hearing Wonwoo talk like this is taking your breath away, and you squirm as Mingyu does as he’s told, his touch lingering on your clit.

“I found it,” Mingyu groans, pressing his cock against your ass again. “Does this feel good, baby?”

“Feels so good, Gyu,” you whine, your hands reaching out to grab Wonwoo’s broad shoulders like an anchor. 

Wonwoo watches your every expression. “Once she’s wet enough, you can try to slide one of your fingers into that tight pussy of hers. It’s important to stretch her out since I know you’re packing.”

A shiver runs through you now. Mingyu’s big- you know it in your bones, you feel it against your ass- 

“Can I?” Mingyu asks, sucking on your ear lobe. “Can I put my finger in your tight, wet pussy?”

You nod. “Please-”

He teases your opening, and you wait with bated breath for him to finally push in. When he does, you both moan loudly.

“Fuck her like that for a bit, then see if she can handle another finger,” Wonwoo instructs next. “While you’re doing that… how do you feel about stroking me off, gorgeous?”

You swallow thickly, nodding. Then you reach down for Wonwoo’s pants, helping him shift them down to his thighs. His cock slaps up against his abdomen, hard as a rock and glistening with precum. He’s big, on the longer side more than thick, but you don’t mind. You grasp him, rubbing your thumb through the precum to spread it across his skin.

“Do you need direction too?” Wonwoo grins at you.

“Don’t even try it,” you warn him.

“I was just teasing, you don’t seem to mind Mingyu’s teasing.”

“That’s cuz he’s-” Your words are choked off as Mingyu thrusts his finger in your pussy. “He’s doing a different kind of teasing.”

“Can I add another?” Mingyu groans in your ear, seemingly oblivious to the bickering between you and Wonwoo. 

“Yeah,” you nod, stroking Wonwoo faster while you wiggle your hips as an open invitation to Mingyu. 

Two fingers drag through your pussy lips, and when Mingyu pushes them into you, you swear you see stars. You throw your head back, eyes closing in ecstasy-

“If you crook your fingers, there should be a soft, spongy spot. That’s called the G-spot, girls like it when you apply pressure there,” Wonwoo tells Mingyu.

You feel Mingyu’s fingers beginning to explore inside of you, and you let out a whimper when he finds the spot Wonwoo is talking about.

“Looks like you found it, Gyu,” Wonwoo grins. “See? What did I tell you? A quick learner.”

Mingyu applies more pressure to your G-spot as he thrusts his fingers in and out of you. Soon, you can hear how wet you are, and Wonwoo’s eyes darken.

“I think you’re just about ready for him, don’t you?” he asks.

“Yeah- fuck it, yeah,” you nod quickly. “Let's all get naked.”

Mingyu’s hand is out of your pants before you can even finish your sentence. He licks his fingers off, groaning at your taste, before he rips off his pants and shirt.

Your clothes are quick to follow, discarded onto the floor. “I’m gonna ride him,” you announce.

“Sounds like a good idea,” Wonwoo nods. 

You swing a leg over Mingyu’s hips, your hands flat on his chest- when you look down at Mingyu, you’re overwhelmed with a feeling you quite can’t explain. Bending down, you press your lips to Mingyu’s, capturing his cock between his body and your pussy. You grind against him while you make out, a flurry of tongues and whimpers of pleasure. 

“He might not last long, so I’d be careful if I were you,” Wonwoo warns, and you feel his body behind yours, his hands trailing up your sides.

You pull away from Mingyu, grabbing his cock and lining it up with your pussy. He’s so big- and his tip stretches you out as you slowly seat yourself down onto him, your wet hole taking inch after inch until you’re full to the hilt. 

“Fuck-” Mingyu whimpers, his hands settling on your hips.

“Feels like heaven, huh?” Wonwoo asks.

“Even better than heaven,” Mingyu breathes.

Wonwoo’s lips find your throat, and you arch your head back, enjoying the way his hands capture your breasts, massaging you. His thumb and pointer squeeze your nipple and you gasp, your pussy clamping down on Mingyu, who groans loudly.

“You should start riding him,” Wonwoo says, his mouth hot on your neck. “Here, I’ll help you.”

Wonwoo’s hands find your hips, and he lifts you off of his fried before pushing you back down. You let out a whimper of pleasure, closing your eyes and resting your head back against Wonwoo’s shoulder. 

With his super strength, he can easily lift you up and put you back down on Mingyu’s cock, effectively taking away all the leg strain so you can enjoy every moment of Mingyu filling you up.

“I might be bad, but I can be nice,” Wonwoo coos. “Look at me doing all the work.”

Mingyu lets out a grunt, and he begins to thrust up to meet you, driving his cock even deeper into your pussy.

“Fuck-” you gasp, reaching behind you to thread your fingers in Wonwoo’s hair.

“He feels good, doesn’t he?” Wonwoo asks. “Hey Gyu, rub her clit. Wonder if we can get her to cum for us.”

Mingyu’s thumb finds your sensitive bud and you squeal with delight, pussy throbbing around the massive cock impaling you. 

Each circle of his digit on your clit drags you closer and closer to the edge, your sounds filling the room-

“She’s gonna cum,” Wonwoo announces. “Tell her how badly you want to watch her cum.”

“Wanna watch you cum,” Mingyu moans.

“That’s not very original,” Wonwoo tuts.

“Fuck, you look so good bouncing on my cock. We both wanna see you cum. You’ll cum for us, right?” Mingyu looks so desperate. Lips puffy and parted, skin a soft pink, dark hair curled with sweat by his strong brow-

“Okay, okay- fuck,” you groan. “I’m gonna- fuck, I’m close-”

“When a girl tells you she’s close, don’t change anything,” Wonwoo tells the man below you. “Don’t add pressure or take pressure away from her clit. Don’t change your pace- the only thing I’d say you can change, is you can fuck her harder, but since you’re the bottom right now...”

Wonwoo’s grip on you tightens, and he bounces you even harder onto Mingyu’s cock, which makes you nearly cry from how good it feels. “Oh my god, oh my god-”

“How about you cum for us?” Wonwoo suggests. “I’m sure you’ll get Mingyu there too.” 

“Are you gonna cum with me, Gyu?” you ask, looking down at Mingyu from under heavy lids. “Please- I want you to cum with me?”

Mingyu lets out a grunt, his brows furrowing in concentration. You’d bet he’s holding off his high now, waiting for you, waiting for the moment you say it’s okay-

The cord in your stomach coils tighter and tighter, and when Wonwoo leans over you to whisper the word, “Cum,” in your ear, you can’t even help yourself.

Your pussy tightens like a vice on Mingyu’s cock, all the tension snapping as waves of pleasure throb from your core outward to the rest of your body.  The moan you let out is obscene, and the one Mingyu echoes is even worse, in the most sinful, sexy way.

“Fuck-” Mingyu grabs your hips, forcing you down on him completely, unable to move while the contractions of your orgasm milk his cock for all he’s worth.

“Look at you two cum whores,” Wonwoo breathes, and for some reason, the degradation doesn’t phase you in the slightest. “Bet you both needed that, didn’t you?”

You can only whimper a sound of affirmation. 

Wonwoo’s hands smooth along your back, helping your body calm down from the aftershocks of your orgasm.

“Let me know when you’re ready for more,” he says softly.

“Now,” you respond without hesitation. “Fuck me now.”

“You’re that eager?”

“Eager- plus the moment we’re done, I think I might pass out,” you admit. 

Wonwoo only laughs. “I’m going to help you off of him, then it’s face down, ass up. You good with that?”

“So good with that,” you grin. 

It’s easy enough for Wonwoo to help you off of Mingyu. He sets you next to your gentle giant, who’s still trying to catch his breath. 

You immediately push your butt toward Wonwoo, arching your back and looking at him over your shoulder.

“Wow, you really are ready,” he muses, hands gliding over your ass. “Don’t fall asleep on me or it might bruise my ego.”

“Sleep after you cum, so don’t worry if it’s quick.”

“What if I want to take my time?” Wonwoo asks, dragging his cock up and down your slit.

“Then I’d say you have so many other opportunities in the future to take your time, but right now, I just want to be full, and then I can pass out between you and Gyu.”

“You know what? That doesn’t actually sound that bad.” Wonwoo presses his cock into your wet hole, Mingyu’s cum acting as a kind of lube that makes it all too easy for Wonwoo’s length to glide against your walls.

“Fuck-” you groan, grabbing at the bed sheets. 

Wonwoo isn’t as thick as Mingyu, but somehow he reaches deeper. Two hands spread your ass cheeks so each rough thrust has Wonwoo’s cock going as deep as possible, his tip kissing your cervix and making your toes curl.

“Taking it so good,” Wonwoo muses, digging his fingers into your flesh.

“So pretty,” Mingyu whispers, pushing a stray strand of hair from your face.

He leans in, and you find yourself kissing Mingyu while Wonwoo rails you from behind. You can hardly help your moans as Mingyu’s tongue glides over yours.

“It’s kind of hot watching you two make out,” Wonwoo admits, his thrusts slowing so he can appreciate the view in front of him.

“Yeah?” You kiss Mingyu even harder and he shuffles closer, groping your breast.

“Rub her clit for me Gyu,” Wonwoo instructs. “If she wants this fast, we’ll have to get her to cum first.”

Your body tingles- you should have known Wonwoo would want one of your orgasms for himself if you gave one to Gyu. You have no problems with them providing you pleasure and you providing them with a view of your high in return.

You simply relax while they work you up together, acting in unison. 

Mingyu’s fingers are rubbing your clit in rough circles, and the feeling of Wonwoo filling you up has you going crazy. You’re doing your best to hold onto the moment, but you can feel yourself getting close to the edge again.

“You’re getting tight, gorgeous,” Wonwoo muses. “Gonna cum for us?”

“Yeah- almost there,” you whimper, arching your back even more so when Wonwoo drives forward, he hits a specific spot that has you seeing stars. “Fuck-”

“You feel so good, want to feel you cum on my cock, wanna feel your perfect pussy get all tight and creamy with my cum-” Wonwoo grabs your ass tighter, and the slight pain paired with his dirty words is enough to throw you over the edge.

Your entire body tenses as the cord of pleasure snaps, erupting through you like a volcano of white, hot intensity. “Fuck-” you whine, and Wonwoo echoes the sound as your pussy grips him harder than ever before.

“Shit, I’m cumming,” Wonwoo warns you, his thrusts faltering as he shoots his load deep inside your throbbing core. 

He lets out sinful groans, and you love the way he sounds as he rides you through your orgasm, roughly ramming into your gspot with shallow thrusts that feel like heaven.

Wonwoo finally comes to a stop, and you can feel him breathing heavily against your bare shoulders. 

“Clean up time, then bed,” Mingyu reminds you before you can close your eyes and fall asleep then and there.

“Right-” you whisper lazily, resting your cheek against the comforter.

“Here, I’ll help you, but only if I get to be your big spoon,” Mingyu suggests.

You nod. Wonwoo pulls out of you, and Mingyu is quick to bring a warm cloth to your aching core, wiping up the cum and getting you situated. He helps you lay down, disposing of the towel before joining you at your rear. His lips are soft against your shoulder, his hand gliding the expanse of your arm.

“We love you,” he tells you. “Even if Wonwoo won’t say it cuz he’s a jerk.”

Wonwoo only laughs, laying on his back in front of you and Mingyu. You’re too exhausted to say much other than, “I love you guys too,” and with that, you fall asleep next to your two lifelong protectors.

You don’t know what the future holds, but one thing is clear; as long as Mingyu and Wonwoo are protecting you, you have absolutely nothing to worry about.

☀️ mlist + an. Thank you so much for reading! this might be low key my hero academia inspired- I've been going through the anime's like an addict lol

🍭 support me by. sending a tip here or here - or become a patron to access monthly bonus content and extensions for fics like this one :) find the Patreon teaser below! 

🔮 preview. It’s been interesting learning about yourself and your sexual tastes with Mingyu and Wonwoo

cw/ tw. Threesome, unprotected sex, dildo use, pussy eating, oral (m/f receiving), deep throating, Mingyu monster cock agenda, spitting, spanking, dirty talk, dom!wonwoo, multiple reader orgasms, cream pie, Eiffel tower/spit roasting, double penetration, cumming on y/n’s face, masturbation, etc…   I petnames. Baby & gorgeous. 

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.3k I teaser wc. 145

🌙 starring. Wonwoo & Mingyu x afab!Reader

 bonus

“So,” your therapist grins as she looks amongst you and your protectors, “I’m guessing things are going well?”

You can only smile, squeezing Wonwoo and Mingyu’s hands.

“It’s never been this easy,” Mingyu says wistfully, bringing your knuckles up to his lips to kiss.

“How are you two getting along?” your therapist addresses Wonwoo and Mingyu.

“Shockingly,” Wonwoo sighs, turning to grin at Mingyu, “I feel like we’re pretty good. Once Mingyu started listening to me, for once, things got easier.”

You nearly choke at Wonwoo’s words- reminiscing about how well Mingyu listens to Wonwoo’s instructions in bed.

“This is a good step,” your therapist smiles. “I’m proud of all three of you.”

No one’s ever told you they were proud of you for getting railed like a whore in heat by not one, but two, men- but hey, there’s a first time for everything.

☀️ to read the full fic AND 2.3k bonus NOW, subscribe to my Patreon, then click here

👹 or check out what else is on my patreon here

🔮if nothing strikes your fancy, check out my m.list

general taglist

@gotshinct - @runahways - @milkteade - @mocha000

@anothershorthuman - @notbeforelong - @darthlunaa

@chogiwapadada - @meowniee - @pandabur666

@just-here-to-read-01​ - @shiningnono - @lovelyhan -

@grilledbananas - @quennlenn - @zezedoesshit

@unlikelysublimekryptonite - @wonwoothinker

svt taglist

@candidupped - @cheolussy - @aaniag - @imprettyweird

@xcynthiaaa

thank you to those who interacted with the teaser

@sugrcookiiee - @biancaness - @jeon1w - @clownprincehoeshi

@gimmematchas - @jenowithjaem - @weakformingyu

@drinkingrumandcocacola - @flamestarburst - @bemysolaces

@black-swan-blog27 - @roseandpeaches - @junrenjun

@icedearlgreytea - @multislut - @ishitakeblog - @chanichanvhan

@angel-ishere - @markgeollie - @amazinggraxia - @asyre

@ubiquityandserendipity - @seoknyang - @aubaee

@citycupids - @wonwoothinker - @luvlino - @babieculture

[dolicekiss]

Hey,

could you please write a yandere Hannibal one-shot, where the reader is one of Bedelia‘s ex patients/friends and Will‘s best friend. Will soon knows Hannibal is interested in her,( after she met him,while dropping of Will for therapy) and tries to ^save^ her from him. However Hannibal again has his way and maybe it ebds with smut?

♡: ohmygod i was literally about to write a yandere nigel but this is even better, especially knowing how manipulative hannibal can be !! also, i hope i do this justice, thanks :D

Famished

PAIRING: Yandere!Hannibal x Gullible, mentally disturbed female reader.

CONTENT WARNING: smut (18+ only, minors dni) unprotected sex, manipulative hannibal, oral (female receiving) fingering, yandere hannibal, mention of drugging, mentally disturbed reader and traumatized, taking advantage (hannibal is cooking up plans) slight breeding kink, reader is very gullible <3 that's all

SYNOPSIS: After dropping Will Graham to his therapy session and having a run in with his prominent, renowned psychiatrist — Dr. Hannibal Lecter, you become the object of his infatuation and obsession. It is in his best interests to make you fall for him, make you his. Whether it is by his cunning manipulation tactics or his alluring charms.

For the first time ever, Hannibal Lecter found himself lost and in a puzzled position.

He was at a loss of words for the immense amount of adoration and awe swelling in his chest whenever he laid his eyes on you — which was rare. As you only came by when you had to drop your best friend, Will Graham to his office. It wasn't in your daily routine, as you had other things in life that required your attention but whenever you were available and whenever Will needed your help, you were there.

Because he was there when you needed someone.

Hannibal’s brain was quick to recognize you though, after seeing an old file of yours in Bedelia’s office, with your picture inside. It had all your details and Hannibal felt as if it was meant to be. He'd read your file, in the absence of Bedelia. Completely out of character for even someone like him but he knew you.

He knew all of you.

The exchange of pearly smiles between you and Will when he first introduced you to Hannibal was not very pleasing to the eye for the blonde male. Aggravated but hiding behind the mask of politeness, he only returned those smiles and then watched you leave his office.

That same night, both Hannibal and Will were restless. Will because he had noticed the curiosity awakening in Hannibal’s impassive gaze when he took note of you and Hannibal laid restless because of the uneasiness felt ever since you had left his office. He had this, insatiable urge, he felt —famished.

And only you could satiate that hunger of his.

“Hannibal, you appear lost.” Bedelia commented, the dullness of her office somehow matching his own. The two shared similar tastes, no wonder he was associated with her.

He lifted his gaze up from the red carpet covering the entirety of her floor, fingers tucked understand his chin. He was indeed lost, lost in you. Like an alligator, you had consumed him whole and he slightly twitched in the seat.

Hannibal had a plan.

This was the plan.

“I had a run in with one of Will’s associates, who also used to be your patient.” He responded, bitterly referring to you as his associate instead of his friend because even the idea of that burned him with such envy and jealousy.

Will didn't deserve you.

Not as his friend, not as something else.

Bedelia crossed her leg, staring at him with certain curiosity. “I do not break doctor patient confidentiality.”

“I'm aware.” Hannibal responded as quickly as he could, eyeing the woman. His presence was heavy and his gaze was sharp as an eagle's. Nothing missed him, not even the subtle details and minorities of life.

He noticed everything.

Hannibal laid his hands on his lap, mimicking Bedelia as he crossed his leg over the other but with much more authority. “Why did you stop seeing her?”

Bedilia scoffed. “I didn't stop seeing her, she told me her mind had healed. That she didn't need me anymore, that she was fine.” Her voice was laced with subtle bitterness at how you interrupted their sessions. Bedelia felt like she was being called incompetent indirectly by you.

That was all Hannibal needed.

This time you dropped Will off again but this time, he seemed evidently upset with the idea of you running in with Hannibal Lecter again. It was weird to you, how he acted when it came to you crossing paths with his psychiatrist. Hell, you'd even made a joke about not snatching the handsome doctor away from Will.

But he only responded with a sour face, definitely not impressed with your horrible attempt at a joke.

As he exited the car and headed for his office, you watched him but then your eyes captured a wallet and a phone right where Will was sitting. He'd left his belongings behind. You let out a sigh, contemplating whether to give them to him now or later. You didn't care that your bestfriend acted all sour at the mention of crossing paths with Hannibal.

He was uncomfortable with the idea of you meeting his own psychiatrist, now that was weird. You left the car too, with the items in your hand and headed inside. Air chilly against your skin, you smiled at how its soft hands caressed your skin, prickling it slightly but you basked in the feeling.

As you reached the door, you knocked on it and waited for someone to open it. It was peeled open and there stood Hannibal, and a smile broke when he caught you standing there. Cladded in a long coat, which concealed a casual dress behind it. His gaze took you in, drank you like the most finest wine and then he captured the familiar wallet and phone in your hand.

He'd seen it one too many times in the hand of his patient.

“Here to return his belongings, I assume?”

You nodded your head. “He forgot these.”

Extending out your hand with Will’s things in your hand, the door was pulled open more revealing another figure. Will stared at you, a look of annoyance on his face when he found you standing there. He'd told you, even subtly warned you to not ever come to Hannibal’s office but here you were. Breaking the only rule that he presented before you.

You rolled your eyes at Will, his behavior abnormal and different than usual was something you didn't appreciate at all.

Hannibal took the things from you and then handed them over to Will. “I'll take my leave then, goodbye.”

Just like that, you were out of the towering presence of those two. God, was it only your imagination or did it actually feel suffocating being in their presence together — especially after Will had warned you off basically to not come in front of Hannibal Lecter ever. The way he smiled at you, it was sweet but for some reason, goosebumps woke up on your skin.

You shook your head, went home and after a warm shower, curled up in your bed. An attempt to sleep, for the umpteenth time but everytime you rested your eyes, that same nightmare haunted you once more. Adding a new digit to the list as it did. Reminding you of the darkness that would always stay within you. Rooted inside you.

The blood soaked hands, the screams, the shattering of glass — it replayed over and over again. Like a film that was lagging a lot, hesitating to go forward, so all you could do was rewind and watch that same scene over and over.

You woke up, drenched in sweat. Chest heavy and lungs desperate to drag in as much air as they could. It was all too vivid, like it had happened today and not years before when you were only a little girl.

It wasn't easy living with the fact that you had been spared by your kidnapper while he slaughtered your friend, right before your very gaze. You didn't deem it worth it, didn't find yourself worthy enough to be alive, instead of her.

If he'd only killed you too.

— ♡ —

The next day Will had told you he'd pick you up from your house and take you somewhere, somewhere where he could discuss something important with you. It baffled you when the man pulled up to his own house, the irony of it leaving you with certain uneasiness.

“Will, just tell me. Are you jealous?”

That could be the only reason.

He stayed silent, not answering your question before letting out a sigh of what you assumed to be frustration. He shook his head, fingers scurrying to fix his glasses on the bridge of his nose. Eyebrows furrowed and curls resting against his forehead.

“You need to stay away from Hannibal Lecter. He is a dangerous man, a sadist, a cunning bastard.” You blinked at all the profanities Will Graham was suddenly using to describe his own psychiatrist.

You had no idea of his little plan to play along with Hannibal to catch him so this whole situation was extremely uncomfortable for you.

“You're making that up.” You accused him, with a shake of your hand to dimiss his accusations. “If he was such a cunning bastard, he wouldn't be your psychiatrist.”

“Listen to me.” Will’s voice was dangerously low, frustration obvious in it. “Just do what I'm saying. Don't linger around him, don't even drop me off anymore.”

The water was slowly boiling over your heads and it could spill at any moment. Tension rose in the room and you, with your adamant personality, didn't give in. You wanted— no, you needed to know this. Just what the fuck was going on and why were you being kept in the dark?

It made you feel hopeless and almost sad, because to you it seemed as the only paddle in your life didn't really trust you.

“First, stop hiding shit from me. I'm your fucking bestfriend, Will. Just tell me—”

The loud noise of his palms slamming down on the wooden table in his living room made you flinch. Your body jumping as you let out a shriek at the loud noise, not very fond of them ever since the traumatizing event from your childhood. You hadn't expected him to react like this, especially with such aggression.

“Just stay the fuck away from Hannibal Lecter. That's all I'm asking you to do, you can't even do that?” Eyebrows scrunched and disappointment swirling behind those specs of his, your heart dropped into the pit of your stomach at his tone, words and his unexplainable behavior.

It all overwhelmed you to the core.

Then a knock interrupted you both.

Will and you turned around and found Hannibal standing behind the net door, his aura slicing through the heavy tension that hung like a knife on your heads. You composed yourself, hands with a tremor reaching out to fix the few loose strands of your messy bun.

You swallowed thickly — once more put in a situation where you had to pretend to be fine for someone else. All because of your own bestfriend.

The fact made you vulnerable, so fucking vulnerable. To the point Hannibal would smell it off you and it gave him the perfect opportunity, laid out on a damn silver platter. Awaiting to be devoured.

“What're you doing here, Hannibal?”

Hannibal’s gaze exchanged between the two of you, pretending as if he wasn't just standing outside eavesdropping on your conversation. It was evident on your face that you wanted to leave, as soon as you could but without Will’s help, you couldn't actually leave. His fucking house was in the middle of nowhere and he was your only ride.

You wrapped an arm around yourself instinctively, a habit you'd adapted to when you were little. In a silly little attempt to protect yourself from the harm you faced as a child.

“Had to discuss something about a case but I guess I chose the wrong timing?” His gaze trailed over you and he took notice of the way your chest fell and rose, how you stood there as if you were cornered and scared, your own arm wrapped around you in a sense to provide the comfort you ached for.

You seemed so perfect like this.

On the verge of breaking.

“I'll be outside.” You didn't even bother grabbing your coat, only reached for the door and left without sparing them both a glance.

The cold hit you like a damn truck, shivers dancing across your spine. Regret consumed you about not grabbing your coat from Will’s hanger but you were too stubborn to go back inside and take it. So you chose to suffer in the cold, sitting by the stairs, staring ahead into the darkness the forest and the night had to offer you.

You thought about Will. His behavior, how he'd spoken to you despite knowing your history and it pained you but as usual, you suppressed it. Your pain didn't matter, how could it matter when you were lucky enough to be left alive while your own friend was slaughtered like some fucking animal?

Knees glued to your chest, you didn't know for how long you stayed there but you felt someone put a coat on you. Your body was quick to absorb the warmth it had to offer and you lifted your head up, hoping you'd find Will but instead Hannibal had shown you more decency than your own friend.

‘Cunning bastard, this?’ You thought.

“Thank you.” You held the coat tightly around your shoulder and noticed it wasn't yours, it was his own. Hannibal had given you his own coat and the bare minimum action, the simple act of kindness, it all was enough to worsen the situation for you right now.

For Hannibal, this was perfect.

You were the perfect prey.

He knew Will would react the way he had — his emotional outbursts were bound to get aggressive and he wanted Will to be on thin ice around you. To make you cautious of him, so that your lonely heart will begin searching for another companion.

Him.

“Your car isn't in the driveway, which means Will is going to drop you off.” He said and stared ahead at the empty space next to Will’s car. “But I suppose you don't really wish to be in his presence right now.”

You slowly nodded.

He was a psychiatrist, a witty one at that. There was no point in lying to the man as you tightened the coat around you. His scent bringing along a sense of comfort. It was warm, a little like nature itself.

“If you allow me, I can drop you off.”

Hannibal extended his hand out, staring down at you and you looked at his hand, then him. It was a moment of silence but help was offered and you slowly slipped your hand into his, as he raised you up from the ground. The touch of your hand, being this fucking fortunate enough to be able to feel you flesh to flesh, Hannibal was over the moon. An itch growing in his thumb to run it lightly over the skin of your knuckles but he somehow with the power of a celestial being restrained himself.

Your perfume had branded his skin.

You had branded his skin.

He lead you to his car and you sat inside, all the while Will watched from his window. There was only so much he could do but he knew that Hannibal’s charm was difficult, nearly impossible to resist. Whether he visited in the form of archangel azrael, a companion or a foe.

He was still going to be in control.

The car ride was silent when it began. Your gaze lingering over the passing street lamps, blurring in your vision as a lone tear slid down your cheek. Akin to the person you were, lonely and isolated.

“I could sense the tension in the air.” Hannibal’s soft voice sliced through the silence. “Are you alright?”

You turned to him and nodded. “Just a small misunderstanding, that is all.”

It was, infact, not a misunderstanding. Hannibal knew why you seemed this heartbroken, about the incident that occurred to you as a child, about Will’s outburst and how it terrified you.

Like a ripe fruit, you were all raw and vulnerable. Ready to be consumed by him, to be savored by him, to get rid of his insatiable hunger.

Hannibal believed he could fix you — by not fixing you at all. A broken masterpiece you were and he'd be damned if he tried to put back the pieces together. He preferred the picture he saw right now more.

“He should not have raised his voice at you.”

Your gaze lifted up. “You heard it?”

He nodded, while swiftly taking a turn into a street. “I did not mean to pry, my deepest apologies. I managed to arrive exactly at the time when he was having his outburst.”

“It's fine.” Your head hung low as you played with your fingers in your lap. Hannibal noticed, writing it down in his little mental diary he'd kept in his head. “I don't understand why he behaved the way he did. It was, upsetting.”

You mumbled the last word, shaking your head. Hannibal glanced your way. “You were under Bedelia's care, no?”

By now, you'd come to know that the two were friends and knew each other. But deep down you hoped that they hadn't discussed you like some curse, like some ugly freak who magically survived a cruel man while her friend got swallowed.

“Yes.” You whispered. “Her ways to heal the human mind are, peculiar.”

To be honest, Bedelia seemed like a woman who cared more about the influence and power she had on you than your well-being and that feeling of forced incompetence along with other things became the reason of your end with her.

Hannibal chuckled, barely.

It was just there and you heard it for a single moment. “Did you not find her treatment appropriate?”

“I didn't deem her fit to be my doctor,” you picked at the skin around your nails out of habit. “honestly, I don't find anyone fit to be my doctor.”

There was silence.

But Hannibal soon spoke. “Could the feeling that only you're capable of understanding your mind because of you going through what you did be the cause of this?”

Jesus, the man was spot on.

It slightly unnerved you.

“Are you analyzing me, Dr. Lecter?” There was soft sarcasm your voice was laced with as you smiled.

The man stared straight ahead. “Maybe, would you mind allowing me to analyze you at my office over a glass of wine?”

You knew you couldn't go back to your lonely house, especially after the remnants of Will’s behavior affecting you the way they did. The sound of his palms slamming down on the wood echoed in the back of your mind and you had no other option than to agree to Hannibal’s offer.

But poor you, it was all part of his plan.

He'd read your file, thoroughly, well aware of your triggers and your mind. How it worked, processed things, he knew it all and the wicked man used it to his advantage. To lure you in like a prince charming only to shift into a hideous beast.

When you made it to his office, the man had offered you the finest of wine. The most expensive one, all the way from Florence and you could practically taste italy in the bottle — delicious, warm and fruity. You reveled in each sip as you sat across the man on his table, flipping through a book about the human mind.

You enjoyed reading books, found solace in them and Hannibal had all the more to offer.

“I can't believe you've got these many books.” You pointed out, lifting your eyes up at the man who was now coming down from the ladder with multiple books in his arms. It was sweet how he was offering you his book, his wine, his company because somewhere he knew you needed it.

Loneliness was a slow death.

Poison so bitter but painful, it tore you apart piece by piece.

He ambled his way towards you, taking a seat on the chair and placing the books right in front of you on the table. “These are nothing. I own a library too.”

Your eyes widened. “You're kidding.”

Hannibal’s heart skipped a beat at how your eyes expanded in sheer shock, his lips expressing a small smile. You seemed akin to a child in that moment, innocent and appalled by the idea.

“No, dear. I'm fortunately not.” He replied, hands settled on the table. “I could take you there.”

“I'd love to go.” You were quick to reply back but then composed yourself a little, not wanting to come across as desperate. You began coursing through the book, reading the contents of it simultaneously sipping your wine.

Then Hannibal spoke. “You seem disturbed, dear.”

You stopped reading and looked at him, with a confused expression before realizing what he meant. Will’s behavior had left you in a great deal of confusion as well as underlined fear. It was stomach churning, when you remembered how dark his eyes were or how angry he appeared. All too similar to the fragments of the man that had abducted you during you childhood.

“He reminded me of him.” You blunted out, not really caring anymore to conceal your emotions and fears. It had to be how vulnerable you were seeming, craving human companionship and attention. To be comforted and reassured that nothing was wrong with you.

Hannibal leaned forward. “Of who?”

“The man who took me.” Your fingertip danced over the stamped ink on the beige piece of paper, gaze following along the letters and lines. “Every aggressive man reminds me of him.”

“Your fear of aggressive men stems from your childhood, as one had taken you. It is no surprise you'd feel uneasiness in Will’s presence now.” Hannibal was right. These heightened emotions of fear and discomfort would only consume you if you continued seeing Will in the light that he had presented himself in.

He was your friend. Your best friend, the man who was always there — to be your paddle and to be your pillar but now you were scared of him. Of everything, the whole situation to stay away from Hannibal. You were right in his office and so far, he had brought you no harm at all.

Only provided you with company.

“He told me to stay away from you.” The lump in your throat began to grow. If you had a gut feeling, it had definitely melted in the presence of Hannibal. Blinded by his charm and his long blonde strands hovering over his forehead. “It was confusing, Dr. Lecter. It was— too much. He repeated it like a broken record, over and over again. Ordered me even and I don't understand why he was telling me to be this cautious when you're his psychiatrist.”

Hannibal and you made eye contact, for a brief moment before you averted your gaze from him, lacking the courage to look straight into his penetrating eyes.

“Will is unstable.” Hannibal stated, as he caressed his own hand with the fingers of the other. “I have no intention to ruin the camaraderie you both have but his attempt to kill me tells me enough about his mind.”

Your eyes expanded.

Will tried to do what?

And the fact that Hannibal seemed so unbothered about it and continued seeking him as a patient. It was like Bedelia’s case all over again, except hers actually ended meanwhile Hannibal continued giving Will his time and effort.

“But why? I don't get it and you're still seeing him—just, what is going on?” Stressed and frustrated, feeling like you were being kept in the dark, you brought your fingers upto your forehead and began massaging it. It was too much for you, especially when you had your own battles to fight.

Hannibal reached for you, his own hand placed above yours. In silent comfort. “Will is my friend, or so I see him as one. He's unstable and his acts of impulsivity are my responsibility to fix although—”

He stopped and tilted his head. “I can see it is beginning to affect you too.”

You sighed, as you didn't remove your hand from underneath his. Only watching him with a gaze clouded in confusion. This was all like plates shattering over and over on the top of your head and still there is no bleeding, only the throbbing pain that increased with time.

Maybe Hannibal was right.

He was his doctor after all. Will appeared unstable, especially after his behavior tonight and the complexity of the situation terrified you.

“It is humiliating to be flesh.” Your voice was barely above a whisper as you finished all your wine. The sound of Hannibal’s chair scraping against the floor caught your attention and you watched as he rose up from his seat and walked towards you. In his hand was a sketchbook that he'd retrieved from his table.

He stood next to you, placing the sketchbook over your book and then leaning down. The close proximity should've made you uncomfortable, should've sent you scurrying out of his office but because of how gentle he was, you didn't budge. “Open it.”

Your fingers with a subtle tremor in them reached for the crisp edge of the sketchbook and you flipped it open revealing the art of pencils. Humans, bodies, organs, they were all presented to beautifully and you looked up at Hannibal.

Face a few inches apart.

“You made this?”

He nodded.

You flipped through a few more and resisted the urge to caress the face of the greek personalities he'd drawn. They were so beautiful, as beautiful as him and you didn't find yourself uncomfortable like how you expected you would when laying eyes upon the more —gruesome part of his art.

It was beautiful.

“This is truly spectacular.” You commented in a whisper as you raised your stare from the sketches and looked up at him. Your lips were only a few inches apart and Hannibal found himself completely captivated by you. The sheer vulnerability and raw pain in your gaze was tugging him towards his arousal, undeniable and strong for you.

He swallowed as his dark eyes took in the sight of your lips.

And you repeated his actions, staring at his lips in return.

It all happened too fast. He'd kissed you, hand reaching to brush the hair behind your shoulder, then moving to grasp your face in it as he delved deeper. Hannibal was holding back so much, concealing the animal that he was from you, hiding beneath the cloak of a gentle demeanor and a beautiful face. His thumbs swiped over your cheek in gentle brush strokes as he pried your lips open, inserting his tongue.

Draping it around your own, the kiss grew intense and this was the first time you'd ever gotten involved with a man like this. It was too inundating but it also felt extremely good as you had denied yourself this pleasure for so long.

Hannibal’s hands slithered down to your waist, to circle around it curve of it as he raised you from the chair, lifting you up to place you down on the table. Still your height couldn't accommodate with his, neck craned up to kiss him. He soon broke the kiss, forehead pressed against yours as his warm breath mingled with yours.

“It is not humiliating to be flesh, rather special and profound.” He whispered, in response to your sentence from earlier as you gazed up at him. Eyes clouded by desire as your heart swelled with finally feeling like you were being understood. Hannibal understood you.

The connection you felt with him was intense.

The man leaned, and you expected him to kiss you again but this time he chose to attack your neck, peppering kisses all over the unmarked skin. His hands rested by your side, fingers digging into the wooden desk to keep the monster inside him at bay. He was too overwhelmed by his wanton for you but you were a fragile little thing.

He couldn't scare you, not yet.

His teeth dug into your skin, biting and tugging like some beast and you winced in response. It felt good but it was something you hadn't tried with anyone before. You've had sex before— one boy and he was nowhere near the same level as Hannibal. Just by biting on your skin, the man had you squirming.

“If Will finds out—”

He silenced you by pressing a finger on your lips. “Will shouldn't care. You're a mature, independent, grown woman. You know what you want, don't you?”

You nodded.

He was treating you like an adult, rather than some broken little doll. But that was Hannibal’s play, he knew that you craved the validation, you wanted to get treated like an adult and not some damaged person. After being in therapy, people almost treated you as you were some mentally unstable person who didn't know what she wanted. A broken, deranged person that didn't know better.

Hannibal made you feel differently, in such a short amount of time.

“So beautiful.” He whispered, as his fingers moved to the buttons of your dress. He unbuttoned each, swiftly proving that he was an experienced man and then his hands rose up to your shoulders, slipping the dress off and exposing the bare skin.

Your breath hitched and in a couple of minutes, Hannibal had completely rid you of any clothes. His own blazer soon came off, followed by his tie and then his shirt. Before you could reach for the buckle of his dress pants, he scoped you up in his arms and took you over to the couch. Lips pressed against yours, he bit harshly on your lower lip, enough to draw blood and somehow you enjoyed this aggressive manner of his kissing.

He laid you down on the couch and crawled on top of you, his knee settled between your thighs. You whimpered upon contact with his clothed knee as he traveled down, while leaving kissing against your skin, face buried between your thighs. The man held you open to his lascivious gaze, pressing a soft kiss against your clit causing you to shudder. Your thighs twitched in response and he loved how your body responded to his touch.

You were a delicious fucking sight.

He licked a long stripe across your cunt and your back lifted off the couch in anticipation. Hannibal pushed you back down, both his hands holding you firmly down on the couch, his arm prying your thighs further open. Closing his lips around your clit, he sucked feverishly and you cried out. It felt too fucking good.

One hand released you, dropping between your legs. His fingers ran up and down your cunt, coating themselves in the slick of your arousal and then slowly, he added a finger into you. He was gentle with it and stared up at you, mouth still continuing its assault on your clit while holding eye contact. Tears danced on your waterline, waiting for that one single push to slide down in rivulets on your face.

His finger picked up its pace then he added another. Your wet walls clung tightly onto his fingers, pulling them in and he reveled in all the little sounds you and your body kade. The whimpers you released, the wet sounds of your greedy pussy and the ragged breathing escaping you.

“How do you feel, Darling? How good am I making you feel with just my mere fingers?”

Hannibal’s voice had fallen a few octaves lower, deep and rough. You parted your lips open to speak but the wicked man curved his finger and your lips only let out a gasp, eyes squeezing shut at the feeling. He grinned at your reaction. “Answer me.”

You swallowed down another whine threatening to run out of your throat. “It feels amazing, Hannibal. Just —so good.”

He added a third finger and curved them altogether, hitting them against the little sponge of pleasure inside you, rapidly and with increasing speed. Your hands traveled down to grip on his golden strands, fisting them as he continued licking across your cunt and fucking you with his fingers.

Then he stopped.

Dropping all his movement.

His tongue replaced his fingers causing you to buck your hips in anticipation and need, aching for more. Hannibal was feasting on you and he wasn't going to stop anytime soon. He was beyond it. Not possessing any sort of self control anymore.

Fingernails digging into the side of your hips, he dragged them down into your skin as he hungrily ate you out. Tongue plunging in and out of your tiny hole, licking and savoring the taste of you. You were fucking sweet, heavenly and delicious. Hannibal’s mind was clouded by his lust, his ache for you. How he wished he could trap you inside thess walls of his office, of his home and never let you out ever again.

Even the sun and moon didn't deserve to capture the sight of you.

“Hannibal, I'm close.” You whined, thighs shaking as your stomach churned with a foreign feeling. It was going to be fucking intense, you knew it because of how much you were shaking.

He looked up at you. “Come for me, Darling. Make a mess.”

Your stomach clenched and twisted at his words and you soon unfurled underneath him. Thighs suffering from perpetual convulsions and eyes seeing white, rolling to the back of your head. Blood pumping in your chest, spreading like wildfire in your veins as your forehead perspired. The searing pain from your tight grip on his hair only hardened his cock, as it stirred against his thighs. Hannibal reveled in the pain you inflicted upon him.

He rose up from between your legs and your overstimulated pussy throbbed at the sight of him. Your orgasm dripped down his chin, plump lips glossy and covered in the juices you'd produced. Face messy and flushed, he stared back at you with a hazy look in his darkened eyes.

When you came down from your high, you found Hannibal completely naked. Long gone were his dress pants and underwear and your were taken aback at the length of his cock as well as the girth. The first and last time you slept with someone, their size was nowhere the same as Hannibal. The drastic change was slightly overwhelming for you, it even terrified you a little.

He took a seat on the couch, at the end of your feet and then pulled you up, settling you on top of his thighs. Holding you in his muscular arms, the man held the tip of his cock against your hole and then slowly sat you down.

You head fell against his shoulder, face buried in his neck. Being able to feel him like this, sinking all the way down to the hilt, you could only whimper. Hannibal made you feel so full and it was only the beginning.

You felt his fingers trapping your cheeks between them, as he pulled your face out of its hiding spot. Four fingers resting on one side while his thumb squeezed the other. Tears sprung out, sliding across your cheeks and crashing into his digits. You sniffled as he stared at you. Eyes lacking emotions and face still. Hannibal was a man who possessed immense control over himself, he couldn't give away his obsession for you.

“You will look at me.” He commanded, voice thick with need. “As I fuck your little cunt and make you unravel on my cock, you will not move your gaze away from me. Understood?”

You could only nod.

His grip tightened on your cheeks and you winced, lips forming a forced pout. You knew what that little act meant and you parted your lips, managing to mumble out, “Yes, I understand.”

Hannibal nodded, satisfaction glimmering in his dark eyes as he released your face. Both hands now settled on your hips, he began to move you up and down with your help. You gasped every time you felt his cock graze against your wet wells, the feeling consuming your ability to think. Your nails managed to draw blood from his skin but Hannibal didn't care. He wanted you to leave more marks, brand him as his, make him yours.

Oh he was already yours.

“Move, Darling.” You started to move too, lifting yourself up and then sinking back down on him. Over and over again, it was repetitive and Hannibal’s face was full of pleasure. His grip tight and firm on your hips, almost as if he were trying to seperate the flesh from the bone.

But you liked it.

He held you like he didn't want you to disappear.

You fucking loved that.

You both stared into each other's eyes, Hannibal’s domineering stare overpowering yours an you nearly made the grave mistake of shutting your eyes but the little pinch on your waist made you peel them back open as fast as you closed them.

“Don't be disobedient now. I expected better from you.” You could sense the disappointment in his voice and you shook your head, still riding his cock and clenching around him everytime you felt his tip bruise your sensitive spot.

You stared at him, through a blurred vision. “You're intimidating—” You sputtered, the sentence breaking. “when you stare at me like this, its intimidating.”

“Do I scare you?”

You shook your head. “No, you're beautiful.”

That was enough to cause Hannibal to become a mess. Fuck, he was all over the place and unfortunate enough for you, you couldn't see it but the man was a mess on the inside. The skipped beating of his heart, the way his eyes were almost turned into little crescents, the smile lines appearing for a split moment before vanishing.

You felt him press his lips against yours, this time in a rough kiss. Arms circled tightly around you. He kissed you like a wild beast having its feast, enjoying its food. His teeth grazed against yours when you opened your mouth, lips against lips, tongue dancing with tongue. Salivas mixing together, it was too messy and you felt the mixed saliva dripping down your chin. He lapped at your wet muscle, sucking on it.

All the while he slammed you down on his hard cock and you let out a high pitched whine into his mouth. That action alone was enough for his cock to harden even more inside you, his hands now unwrapping from your waist and toying with your bare breasts.

“Such a tight little pussy—” He grunted, head thrown back. “so fucking tight.”

Fingers rolling your nipples between them, tugging and massaging the soft flesh. The searing kiss, the sensitive touch of his fingers against your breasts, the slow and rough thrusts of his cock — all of it combined pulled you near another orgasm.

Your toes curled at each thrust and then Hannibal switched the position, laying you down on the couch and getting on top of you with his cock still inside you. Grabbing you by your ankles, he placed them on his shoulders and began to fuck you at an animalistic pace.

“Hanni—" You cried out, lips agape and tears continuously falling down.

He didn't stop. His bangs were sticking to his forehead, a snarl making its way to his face and that was the hottest thing you'd ever seen. To the point it made you tighten around him. “You're mine. You're mine to fuck, mine to claim, mine to own and possess.”

You took those words as something said in the heat of the moment but Hannibal? Oh he was serious. He meant each and every word, every syllable came straight from the darkness in his heart.

His hips snapped and your stomach went crazy into knots. “Please, please. Harder, please Hannibal.”

You were crying out for him at this point. Your hand reaching out to touch his chest but he didn't allow you, grabbing both of your hands and pinning them above your head on the couch. Bending your knees to the point they were pushed against your chest, his face grew closer to yours. Staring deeply into your soul and that moment felt intimate more than anything you'd ever experienced in the world.

“My pretty Darling.”

You swallowed.

Just his dark gaze. You could live your whole life while being captured in those obsidian eyes.

Snaps growing relentless, he kept fucking you till you came all over his cock. Your orgasm slipping out in the form of liquid, making a mess everywhere. Staining his couch, his chest, his cock. Leaving evidence of the sexual encounter between the two of you in a moment. Hannibal let out a chuckle — deep and soft. Music from heaven to your ears.

You almost ascended to heaven from how good it felt. His cock still thrusting up against your cervix, bruising your spot and continuing its assault. Your sensitive body hadn't even calmed down, still twitching and shivering but Hannibal didn't seem it fit to stop.

A low growl rumbled from his chest as the sound of skin against skin grew, reverberating against the walls of his office. With a loud groan, he also spilled inside you. Coating your walls white, throbbing and pulsating inside you. Filling you up to the brim and he didn't care if you were to get pregnant.

Hannibal was a father once.

To his little sister Mischa.

He wouldn't mind having a child of his own, especially with you.

He fucking loved filling you up and he'd make sure to do it again. After all, you were his now.

The man slowly adjusted himself underneath you on the couch, making you lay on top of his to the side. Arms wrapping tightly around you, he held you pressed against his chest as you came down from your high. His hand brushing your hair gently, caressing your forehead.

Only the fire crackling in the fireplace could be heard, mixed with the soft uneven rhythms of your breathing. You couldn't believe you'd slept with Hannibal, right after your best friend had a literal outburst about it. Guilt took over and you slowly sat up, grabbing Hannibal’s shirt from the floor to cover yourself up with it.

“You're thinking.” He commented.

You looked at him and sighed. “I have this guilt consuming me.”

Hannibal reached over, brushing your hair behind. Playing with the strands. “Why's that?”

“Will is unstable, and I have been there too. I should have heard him out instead of running away from him.” You sighed, shoulders slumped. Hannibal didn't like that, he didn't like that you were feeling bad now. After all he'd done, he couldn't have you feeling bad for Will.

“You reacted according to your trauma, it is completely valid. You were in a situation where you didn't feel safe, so you removed yourself from it.” Thumb caressing against your cheek, he smiled. It was subtle. “You should prioritize yourself more often.”

Somewhere Hannibal was right too.

You leaned against his chest, closing your eyes. Then you felt a stinging sensation in the back of your nape. It hurt but it wasn't extreme, like something had pierced you. Just then you looked up and saw Hannibal already staring at you.

Your vision became distorted.

“Hannibal..?” You called out, confused and in a daze. “What's happening?”

“Go to sleep, Darling. You'll be alright soon enough.” He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead and fear filled you up. Just what was happening? The man held you in his embrace, caressing your cheek as you slowly lost all control of your limbs and fell against his chest.

Darkness dragged you in, from your feet and the last thing you remembered was seeing Hannibal with a syringe in his hand.

[nahoney22]

Perfectly Plucked

🫧 Pairings: Tech X Female!Reader

🫧 word count: 3.2k

Plot: Omega mentions to Tech that you love flowers, and luckily enough for him, you love him also.

Warnings: Fluff, safe for work, female reader (she/her), idiots in love, first kiss, nervous Tech.

A/N: it’s been a while since I wrote something cute with my darling, Tech 🩵

“So, what’s the plan?”

Omega’s voice is filled with mischief as she sways from side to side in the co-pilot’s seat, her eyes locked on Tech.

Tech doesn’t immediately respond. His fingers tapped lightly over the datapad, scanning through the incoming reports. But when Omega’s voice cut through the steady hum of the Marauder, his eyes lifted briefly, landing on her as she swayed back and forth in the co-pilot's seat. “Meaning?”

Omega leans forward, her grin widening as she tilts her head toward the viewport, pointing with her chin toward the object of their conversation. “You know... her,” she says in a teasing tone, her eyes sparkling with barely contained excitement. “Are you going to ask her out?”

Tech’s expression faltered for a split second—his eyes widened, just enough to give him away—before he quickly averted his gaze, pretending to focus on the datapad once more. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Oh, you definitely do. We’ve alll seen how you look at her. It’s pretty obvious.” Omega replies, rolling her eyes dramatically before jumping to her feet.

“I do not ‘look’ at her.” Tech mutters, his tone defensive. “I simply observe. That is all.”

Omega arches an eyebrow, a knowing smirk tugging at her lips. “Sure, ‘observe.’”

She pauses, tapping her chin thoughtfully as she begins to pace the cockpit.. “You could always make her something. You know, something nice and romantic! A gadget of some kind.” Then she frowns. “Although that doesn’t scream romantic.”

Tech looks up with a sigh. “Of course they are not. They are tools for beneficial use. And I do not believe she requires anything like that.”

Omega halts, then leans against the control panel, “Okay, maybe not gadgets,” she says, “But flowers might work. People give flowers all the time as romantic gestures.”

Tech blinks, his mind racing as he processes the suggestion. “Flowers?” His voice carries a hint of skepticism. “Why would she need flowers? They have no functional use. I would know if she had an interest in... what was it she said, ‘botanical remedies’?” He gives a small, self-assured smirk, as though this topic was already discussed between the two of them. “She tends to consult me on those matters.”

Omega rolls her eyes once but grins, “It’s not about the practical use, Tech. It’s about the gesture. Besides, she loves flowers.”

Tech’s brow furrows in thought. He glances over at you through the viewport, seeing you sitting outside the Marauder and methodically cleaning and refurbishing your armour.

His mind memorises Omega’s point, you were interested in flowers or any fauna.

Omega watches his expression change, a gleam of victory in her eyes. “You should really pay attention when she watches those holo-romcoms. You’d see how much she likes the idea of flowers.”

Tech’s fingers tap thoughtfully against his datapad, but his attention has clearly shifted. “I suppose that is true,” he murmurs, as though the idea of flowers suddenly isn’t so far-fetched after all.

Omega, sensing her triumph, beams. “So you’ll do it then? You’ll get her flowers?”

“No,” Tech answers quickly, looking back at his datapad with feigned disinterest. “I do not appreciate your attempts to manipulate me into admitting feelings. Again.”

She chuckles, remembering the long conversation she had chewed his ear off about flying being a ‘feeling’.

“So you do admit it?”

Tech shoots her a pointed look, his tone sharpening just a little. “Omega.”

She raises her hands in mock surrender, backing away with exaggerated slowness. “Alright, alright,” she sings. “But I know she would appreciate it. You just have to admit it.”

Tech huffs, his lips pressing into a thin line. He watches you for a moment longer, his mind still running through the possibility, before he mutters under his breath, “I’ll consider it.”

Omega’s eyes twinkle, her work clearly done. “Perfect.”

The warm, refreshing breeze threaded through your hair as you leaned back against the crate, letting yourself savor the simple pleasure of open air. Sure, it wasn’t exactly a luxurious beach chair on a pristine coast like you had been craving, instead it was a beat-up crate on an overgrown forest floor. Though after days cooped up inside the Marauder, it felt like paradise. Even if the company inside was great. More than great, really.

Your mind wandered, inevitably drawn to a certain member of the squad. You caught yourself smiling, and immediately cringed, pressing a hand over your face.

"Why do feelings suck?" you muttered under your breath, shaking your head at yourself.

After a few minutes, you sat up and surveyed your armour with a satisfied smile. You had to admit, you were really good at keeping it looking brand new. Gathering the pieces in your arms, you headed back toward the ship, still riding the lazy warmth of the afternoon.

You were halfway up the gangplank, not paying attention, when you collided with something - someone - solid. You grunted, stumbling back as a few pieces of your armour clattered to the floor.

“Oh stars, sorry, Tech!” you blurted out as you realised what happened, rubbing your forehead where you'd bumped it against him.

"Not to worry, I was not looking where I was going either," he said smoothly, though there was a softness to his voice that made your cheeks warm. Stars, he really got to you.

You quickly crouch to gather up the pieces of your armour, and Tech mirrors your movements without hesitation. His gloves brush against your fingers as you both reach for the same piece, and for a heartbeat, neither of you move. The slightest spark shoots up your arm, and judging by the way Tech’s hand stiffens just a fraction, you pondered wishfully if he felt it too.

True to form however, neither of you say anything about it. You clear your throat and pull your hand back, allowing him to pick up the last piece.

Once everything’s collected, Tech takes it and puts your armour in the Marauder. You move to step around him, but Tech moves at the same time. You both shuffle right. Then both to the left. You stifle a laugh, glancing up at him helplessly as you try again — and again — failing miserably to find your way past.

“We look ridiculous,” you mutter, half-laughing as you impulsively reach out and grab his shoulders to steady him and yourself.

His body goes stiff beneath your touch, as though uncertain what to do, and his adorable wide eyes blink down at you behind his goggles.

“Hold still,” you say through a grin, guiding him gently aside. He lets you manoeuvre him into place without a word, though you hear him clear his throat a little.

You finally step through the doorway into the ship, peeking back at him. “What were you up to, anyway?” you ask casually, hands on your hips

Normally, Tech would answer any question with straightforward precision, but today... today he falters. “I, ah... was merely seeking... additional reference material. For research purposes.” His voice, usually so confident and clipped, wavers strangely. It’s so unlike him that you tilt your head in suspicion, narrowing your eyes in a playful squint.

“Oh?” you say slowly, intrigued. “What kind of research?”

His mouth opens — and then promptly shuts again. He adjusts his goggles unnecessarily, his hands fidgeting at the edges of his belt. Definitely suspicious.

Your curiosity only grows. “Well, if you need help,” you offer lightly, “I’d be happy to join you. I wouldn’t mind stretching my legs.” But then you realise, “Actually, I don’t want to leave Omega on her own-”

You barely finish speaking when a voice pipes up right behind you, startling you.

“I can look after myself, you know,” Omega says, clearly having been eavesdropping the entire time. She crosses her arms proudly. “I’m not a little kid anymore.”

You and Tech both turn toward her. “Not going to start the ship up and fly away without us, right?” You tease.

“Well I can’t promise that” Omega teases, looking between the two of you. “But I’ll do my best to resist.”

“Alright then,” You nod, allowing her to stay behind but then look to Tech to get his verdict.

“I suppose we will not be long.”

“Great!” Omega chimes, “You two can enjoy your date - uh, I mean…”

You stare at her, wide-eyed and mortified at her slip (if it even was) of her tongue.

Tech’s ears burn under his goggles, shooting her a look that you don’t see. He straightens his posture, clearing his throat.

Soon after giving Omega one last warning not to do anything disastrous on your outing, you fall into step beside Tech as he leads the way off the ship.

He doesn't say much at first and you don't push about why he was oddly quiet. You’re quite content for a moment to simply walk through the warm, open air and the forest ahead looks inviting. And being with Tech was such an added bonus.

“So, what exactly are we doing?” you ask after a short while, glancing over at him. “You never did tell me what kind of research this was.”

He pushes his goggles up his nose, fingers twitching on a small device in his hand. “It is a standard environmental survey,” he says quickly, “Nothing particularly noteworthy.”

You squint at him, reading him like a book. “You’re a terrible liar, Tech.”

“I am not lying,” he says, his tone stiff. “I am merely withholding certain specifics for operational efficiency.”

You bite back a smirk but let it go, following him deeper into the trees.

The forest itself hums with quiet life around you. The soft chirping from unseen creatures and the faint trickle of a nearby stream was tranquil. The trees tower overhead, their bark a deep reddish-brown, had wide canopies of green and gold leaves that flutter gently in the breeze.

If Pabu didn’t exist, you would actually consider having a home here.

After a few more minutes of walking, you watch as Tech slows and veers off the beaten path. He stopped at the edge of a rocky clearing and looked over a bed of wildflowers that had tiny blossoms in vivid colours that sway.

He activates the device in his grasp with a quiet beep and starts scanning the flowers.

You lean against a large boulder nearby, resting your chin on your arms as you watch him work. His brows are knitted in focused concentration, a tiny crease forming above his nose.

Honestly? Adorable.

“You’re really invested in this ‘environmental survey,’ huh?” you tease lightly, smiling.

He doesn’t glance up. Instead, he carefully kneels and inspects a cluster of bright yellow blooms. He selects one, pulls a small pair of pliers from his utility belt, and snips the stem.

“What’s that one?” you ask whilst he holds the flower delicately between his gloved fingers.

He looks up at you, and there's something almost shy in the way he offers the information. “It is a part of the aurelia family, a plant known for its versatile healing properties," he explains. "It is particularly effective in creating salves for minor abrasions, something you once mentioned a preference for, if I recall correctly.”

You blink, caught off-guard by the thoughtfulness that he remembered a conversation you had with him quite a while ago now.

Before you can find the right words, he steps closer and offers the flower to you. “I would like you to look after it,” he says simply, placing it carefully into your hand quite quickly and looking away.

You cradle the delicate bloom as if it were made of glass. “I’ll guard it with my life,” you say with a mock-seriousness, but your heart thumps a little faster all the same.

Tech merely nods, satisfied, and turns to continue walking. You follow behind, hand still clutching the bright flower like it was something far more precious than just a plant. Well, to you it was anyway. You loved flowers.

You walk in easy silence for a while, the forest thickening around you as the path narrows.

You're still cradling the yellow flower carefully in your hand when you notice Tech slow again, his scanner flickering softly. He kneels by another patch of blooms — this time a cluster of small, delicate flowers in a soft shade of your favorite colour. You watch as Tech examines them, but instead of scanning them like before, he hesitates. His hand hovers for a moment before he plucks one gently between his fingers, standing up and turning toward you.

Without a word, he steps close, the flower dangling loosely in his grasp. His expression is unreadable behind his goggles, but there’s something almost... tentative about his posture.

You tilt your head, curious. “What’s that one?” you ask, smiling.

Tech visibly stiffens. His mouth opens, but whatever explanation he had seems to falter halfway through forming. “It does not possess any notable medicinal properties,” he admits, adjusting his grip on the flower. “It is... actually scientifically insignificant.”

You blink at him, confused. “Then why did you want me to hold it?”

For a second you swear you see Tech’s composure crack. He shifts awkwardly, looking anywhere but at you. “I considered it might be useful for... cross-referencing petal structure... for research purposes,” he says, far too quickly and far too technically to the point it sounded weird.

You narrow your eyes in mock suspicion, catching on that there’s definitely more he’s not saying. “Uh-huh. Sure,” you say, voice light but you can’t ignore that your heart beats a little faster. Did he want to give it to you… because he wanted to?

He seems to be silently warring with himself. His fingers twitch like he’s about to hand you the flower after all but at the last second, he stops.

Without another word, Tech then turns and — in a move so uncharacteristically flustered it makes you bite back a laugh — he tosses the little flower into the underbrush as he walks away.

You stare after him, baffled and amused in equal measur. Definitely suspicious.

Tech continues gathering flowers as you both wander through the forest, stopping here and there to snip a stem or examine a petal with meticulous care. You gave up asking about each one after the third or fourth as it became obvious he was just handing them to you without much explanation.

Instead, you quietly let him do it, your arms gradually filling with an array of blossoms: soft yellows, rich blues, gentle lilacs, vivid reds. The bundle was chaotic and beautiful.

After a while, Tech finally straightens and looks around the clearing with a satisfied nod. “This will suffice,” he announces.

You stop beside him, brushing your fingertips over the petals lightly, inhaling the gentle, sweet scent. “You picked a really pretty bunch for your research,” you admit softly, smiling over the bouquet at him.

Tech adjusts his goggles with a slight nervous twitch to the motion. “Yes, well...” he starts, voice a little stiffer than usual. “In truth, I would prefer you to keep them.”

You blink, surprised, lowering the flowers slightly to peer at him more clearly. “Keep them?”

He shifts on his feet, clearly uncomfortable but forcing himself to explain. “Omega mentioned that you appreciated flowers. She also suggested that they were considered a... romantic gesture. More appropriate than, say, a customised multitool.” He clears his throat, rapidly gaining momentum as he continues rambling.

“You wanted to get me flowers?” you interrupt softly, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

Tech freezes mid-sentence of his tangent. His mouth opens and closes once — then he nods, sharply, as if resigning himself to it. “Yes. That was the intended outcome.”

Your cheeks burn so hot you swear Tech could probably feel it. You hug the messy bouquet a little tighter to your chest, heart thudding so hard it drowns out the hum of the forest around you.

Tech, seemingly unaware of just how much he’s affecting you, blunders on, still trying to justify himself as if he really needed to. “Initially, Omega suggested a handcrafted gadget. However, after observing flora within the holo-romcoms you frequently view, I concluded that a floral gift might have a statistically higher probability of being well-received, despite its lack of practicality—”

You’re barely listening anymore. You’re too busy staring at the ridiculous, wonderful bouquet in your hands, and the man who meticulously gathered every single stem just to give them to you.

“So... there was no research,” you say, your voice catching slightly.

Tech hesitates, then tilts his head slightly, almost sheepish. “No, not exactly,” he admits.

You bite your lip, trying and failing to hide the grin spreading across your face.

Thinking for a split second, you pull a small flower from the messy bundle — a delicate little thing with soft pink petals — and step toward him. Tech watches you with a sort of curious stillness, almost like he’s bracing for whatever strange human interaction he’s about to experience for the first time. A soft tenderness he yearned for you.

Carefully, you tuck the flower into the side of his goggle band, the bright bloom resting just above his ear. You step back to admire your handiwork, smiling. “There,” you say lightly, “now you look even cuter.”

Tech blinks, his hand automatically coming up to touch the flower like he’s not sure it’s really there. He tilts his head, studying you as a small, almost hesitant smile curling at the edges of his mouth.

“That would suggest that you found me ‘cute’ beforehand.” He exhales through a deep breath he didn’t know he was holding.

You meet his gaze, feeling daring. “Maybe,” you say coyly with a shrug, the word slipping out in a playful lilt.

Something shifts between you. Tech’s smile lingers, but it’s gentler now. His hand drops back to his side, but he takes a small step closer, close enough that you can smell the faint, clean scent of him — old leather, warm metal and tools, and something sharper underneath, something just him.

Your heart thuds painfully against your ribs.

Neither of you speaks. The forest seems to go quiet, the golden leaves above stilling like even the world around you doesn’t want to interrupt.

Slowly, carefully, Tech raises his hand, fingertips brushing against your arm like a silent question. You don’t pull away. If anything, you lean closer, your bouquet pressed tight to your chest like it’s the only thing keeping you anchored.

“Would it... be acceptable,” he says, voice almost a whisper now, “if I—?”

You don’t even let him finish. You nod, once, fast and certain.

The distance closes naturally. His gloved hand slides up, cupping your cheek with a reverence that makes your breath hitch. You tilt into him instinctively, and when he finally, finally leans in, his kiss is as careful and deliberate as everything else he does. A featherlight brush of lips at first, testing the waters, before deepening ever so slightly as he feels you melt against him.

It’s sweet, and a little clumsy, and absolutely perfect.

When you finally pull away, you’re both smiling genuine smiles that don’t need words to explain.

The flower you tucked behind his goggles is a little crooked now, and somehow, that just makes it even better.

🫧 Masterlist

Tags: @tech-aficionado @grizabellasolo @therealnekomari @tech-depression-inventory @brynhildrmimi @greaser-wolf @kaminocasey @marvel-starwars-nerd @ladytano420 @ladyzirkonia @thesith @raevulsix @cw80831 @knightprincess @crosshairlovebot t @littlefeatherr @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz z @jesseeka @theroguesully @ladykatakuri @arctrooper69 @padawancat97 @staycalmandhugaclone @ko-neko-san @echos-girlfriend @fiveshelmet @dangraccoon @plushymiku-blog @pb-jellybeans @nunanuggets @sleepycreativewriter @erellenora @zippingstars87 7 @ezras-left-thumb @the-rain-on-kamino @tentakelspektakel l @stellarbit @imalovernotahater @sithstrings @whore4rex @imperialclaw801 @temple-elder @the-bad-batch-baroness @mysticalgalaxysalad @yunggoblin @photogirl894 @lulalovez

[ddarker-dreams]

Aegis.

Yan Gojo Satoru x F Reader x Yan Geto Suguru.

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, co-dependency, guilt-tripping, emotional manipulation and gaslighting (thanks Geto). Word count: 2.2k.

This is a yandere AU of the series Golden Girl. You don't have to read GG to understand this story, but it gives additional context.

-Index-

Unbelievable, you think, internally fuming. They’re unbelievable!

You ignore the voice calling your name and descend the mountainside’s decrepit staircase. Overgrown trees drape along the walkway, their wispy branches still from the lack of wind. The local wildlife has fled the vicinity, leaving an eerie silence in their wake, which is soon ruined by two pairs of footsteps approaching from behind. 

“Is it really that big of a deal?” Gojo sighs. You can envision the exasperation on his countenance. “If anything, we should be the ones upset here. You lied to us both and snuck out.” 

This comment travels like electricity through your system, shocking you into place. After a split second of deliberation, you turn on your heel, directly facing the most brazen culprit. He remains still as you march back up, jabbing an accusatory finger at his chest. 

“I’m trying to do my job, which, for whatever reason, you both always find a way to interfere with.” 

Geto, who has remained silent up until that point, finally chimes in. “I get that you’re frustrated, but was this the best way to handle it?” 

You choke out a sardonic laugh. “You’re kidding, right? There’s— there’s just no way.” 

Gojo towers over you, his hands resting on his neck. You can feel his Six Eyes scrutinizing every inch of your being behind his round shades, the intrusive sensation akin to spiders crawling along your skin. Unable to withstand the pressure, you avert your gaze, your irritation turning into anxiety. He’s not happy. Neither of them are, but Geto is better at pretending otherwise. 

“Will you at least consider our perspective?” Geto asks, his voice eerily calm. “Going to your dorm room to find the window open, your belongings in disarray…” 

“After you promised to stay put until we were back,” Gojo impatiently adds. 

His audacity temporarily eclipses your fear, reigniting your indignation. “You’re acting like I’ve had any say in the matter.” 

Geto shakes his head. “Don’t be unreasonable. This was something we all agreed on — if you had any objections, you should’ve said so.” 

“You don’t listen!” You exclaim, the sound accompanied by the flap of birds fleeing the vicinity. How you envy them. “Nothing about this is normal! You’re both seriously freaking me out. Ever since—” 

You cut yourself off, your tongue unable to form the syllables that make Amanai Riko, much less vocalize them. Fighting the tightness in your throat, you continue, “Ever since that day, it’s like you can’t trust me to take care of myself. I hate it. I hate this!” 

Gojo opens his mouth, only to close it when Geto rests a hand on his shoulder, shaking his head. The white-haired sorcerer scoffs, yet acquiesces to whatever his companion silently communicated. You remain the odd one out, unable to peer past the one-way glass they’ve placed you behind. Your hands ball into fists by your side and the lump in your throat grows more prominent. Exhaustion, humiliation, and desperation merge, forming manacles that weigh heavy on your limbs. 

You’re pulled up by your arm. You gasp, feeling weightless, mindful of the steep plummet behind you. The grip, though firm, stops shy of keeping you entirely steady so that you must cling to whoever is hoisting you up. Your eyelids squeeze shut out of instinct. When they reopen, you find that you’re facing Gojo, who has removed his sunglasses. 

Geto coils himself around you from behind like a serpent. His arms hug your midriff, holding you in place, while his chin rests atop your head. Your measly attempts to writhe away are met with his hold tightening. Never enough to hurt, just enough to prove a point. Compared to them, you’re like an injured gazelle before two lions. It’s moments like this where they don’t bother hiding the immeasurable gap in strength. 

“We’re just trying to look out for our girl,” Gojo murmurs, his omnipotent eyes devouring every ounce of your existence. “I get it. We can be a little overbearing at times, yeah? But that’s all for you. Everything we do is.” 

You can feel Geto’s chest rumble as he speaks in a low, soothing voice, “You don’t really hate us, do you?” 

… Is that what you said? Blinking rapidly, you glance around for a way out that will never appear. Your breathing turns shallow and your vision clouds around the edges. 

“That’s not what I meant.” 

“Kinda came across that way,” Gojo replies. 

“I— no…” you bite your bottom lip, their native tongue turning into an indecipherable mess inside your head, “I could never. I only want things to be normal again. I want… to exorcize curses, and…” 

Your cheeks flood with warmth as Gojo tilts his head. Suddenly, every request you have feels wrong, laughably insignificant. You shrink into Geto, who is more than happy to have you. 

“Your drive, while admirable, might be better utilized elsewhere. You don’t have to always be on the field to make a difference,” he says.

“Suguru has a point. You’re still nowhere close to figuring out Domain Expansions, right? We’ve gotta work on all that.”

Everything they’re saying makes logical sense. You still have a long road ahead until you’re a proper Sorcerer, a road they blew past with ease. Who better is there to learn from than the best? Gradually, you relax your taut muscles. Geto eases his hold as well. You recall what he asked earlier — if you’d be willing to ‘consider their perspective.’ It doesn’t seem as ridiculous as when the question was originally posed. 

“But… you’re both so busy.” 

“Awe, baby,” Gojo practically coos. He squishes your cheeks together, ignoring your displeased noises. “Has somebody missed us?” 

“Don’t torment her too much, Satoru,” Geto’s chastising is weakened by the clear amusement in his voice. “You know she gets shy.” 

“Isn’t that the best part?” 

You writhe around, their usual teasing instilling discomfort. This time, Geto allows you your freedom, his arms relaxing enough for you to escape. You stand on the step above them, considering your earlier ascent. You had stormed up this staircase with such drive, determined to prove yourself. An abandoned shrine on the mountainside had reportedly been the site of a pesky curse. With both of them gone on separate assignments, you thought it’d be the perfect opportunity to get some firsthand experience…

… Only to find a bored Gojo and visibly disappointed Geto awaiting your arrival. 

A cool breeze whips through the air. 

“Uh oh. It’s never good when she gets that look,” Gojo dramatically cowers away from you, but not before adding, “How about we kiss and make up, hm? No harm done?” 

You ignore Gojo’s antics, settling on a question that’s been gnawing at you. 

“How did you find me?” 

They exchange quick glances. 

Gojo should’ve been in Toyama for another three days, whereas Geto was due back from Osaka tomorrow evening. You’re certain you weren’t spotted by anyone while leaving the school’s premises. 

“We wanted to surprise you by coming back early,” Geto explains. “As for how we found you—” 

Gojo taps his sunglasses and grins. “I’m known for my killer eyesight.” 

You fold your arms over your chest. Are The Six Eyes capable of tracking a person over such a long distance? Getting to this area required a long walk and an hour on the subway. It wouldn’t surprise you if this was within Gojo’s capabilities, but you haven’t heard of anything similar until now. Seeds of doubt sprout inside your mind. Your gut instinct demands a better explanation. Considering the predicament you’re in, you have little bargaining power. If Gojo was by himself, he’d offer you a better hint for amusement’s sake, but Geto doesn’t care for such risks. 

“We were worried something happened to you,” Geto’s eyes glaze over with an emotion you can’t identify. It makes you shiver. “I’m sure you feel uncomfortable, but you have to understand where we’re coming from.”

Silvery strands of moonlight highlight the dark bags beneath Geto’s eyes. Your heart lurches in your chest, leaving you at an impasse. Have you ever seen him so exhausted, so thoroughly drained? He does an excellent job at hiding it, but the physical signs are there. A little voice echoes within your skull, reminding you of your role in his drained condition. 

They wanted to surprise you, it scolds. All you did was cause more trouble.

Guilt prickles your insides like you’d swallowed a handful of needles. 

Your shoulders drop and you stare blankly at the ground. “I’m sorry. I know you’re both looking out for me, I really do. It’s just— I feel so useless, sitting around and doing nothing while everyone else is out there risking their lives. Does that make sense…?” 

While trailing off, your eyes flit between them, searching for reassurance to soothe the terrible ache in your chest. 

Gojo pats you lightly on the head. “You’re overthinking things. You do plenty — more than enough, actually. You’re like our little cheerleader.” 

You make a face at him. 

“What Satoru means to say is that you help motivate us,” Geto interjects, casting his companion a sharp look. He then adds in a softer voice, “I know there are times when I need that.” 

Geto’s gentle cadence plucks at your heartstrings. It’s strange how, despite being out in the vast wilderness, you feel like you’ve been cornered. The raging tempest that you clung to for vindication has vanished, leaving behind ruins that they sweep away. You can never stay upset with them for long. Right when you believe you’re out of pardons to give, they plead their case, tearing off chunks of your forgiveness and leaving you hollow. 

Gojo claps his hands together. “Anyway! All’s well that ends well, etcetera etcetera, so on and so forth. Back to the important stuff. Where’s my ‘I’m-soooo-sorry-for-worrying-my-handsomest-boyfriend’ kiss?” 

“Again with that?” Geto murmurs. 

You consider the pride of the Gojo clan. He doesn’t do well with quiet, intimate moments. It’s a detail you’ve observed as of late — his restlessness. Ever since he began using Infinity twenty-four-seven, he’s always on high alert, his vigilance never waning. The ability that’d fry your brain if you put out the cursed energy necessary to maintain it for five minutes is his constant state of existence. 

What are you going to do with these two? 

Gingerly, you cup Geto’s face, who stares at you inquisitively. You press your lips to his in a featherlight kiss. Gojo voices his fair share of complaints over who you chose first, whereas Geto cherishes the moment. It’s you who shies away, your cheeks burning. You bury your face in your hands to muffle the squeaks you emit. It isn't your first kiss with them, but you still find it as embarrassing as that disastrous experience. At least Geto knows how to control his greed, unlike a certain someone, who doesn't even bother.

“What about me?” Gojo pouts.

“Your Infinity is on,” is your weak rebuttal. 

“Like I can’t turn it off?” 

“Well—” 

“C’mere already,” he pries your hands away with ease, suddenly inches away from your face. “Lemme see.” 

Gojo whistles slowly. “Wow, you got her all cute and flustered, Suguru. Where’s my phone, I need a picture of this…” 

“She’s never going to kiss you at this rate, Satoru.” 

He bristles at the prospect, his sunglasses falling askew. “Hah? Quit giving her ideas.” 

“Just one kiss,” you manage to get out before they resume bickering. “A-And no tongue!” 

Geto chuckles at Gojo's crestfallen expression. 

To stop him from whining, you stand on your tiptoes, ready to give him a quick peck. Even standing a step above him, he’s ridiculously tall. As promised, he deactivates his Infinity, allowing you unlimited access to his person. You focus on keeping the kiss chaste. He has a habit of exploring every inch of your mouth with his tongue if left unchecked, a sensation you’re not used to. It feels weird and you have no idea why he likes it so much. 

When you pull away, he holds you in place, his grin borderline malicious. 

“How ‘bout round two?” 

“I’ll bite you,” you deadpan. 

His eyes gleam behind his sunglasses.

“Oh? Can we make that a promise?” 

Geto pulls you away, leading you down the stairs. His fingers interlock with yours. “If you don’t want to be here the rest of the night, just ignore him.” 

“Whatever happened to sharing is caring?” Gojo calls out from behind. 

When neither of you respond, Gojo’s quick to catch up, his arm slinking around your waist. You’re too busy trying to calm your pounding heart to shake him off. Once again, you’ve been swept up in their riptide. All resisting does is tire you out. You zone out Gojo’s prattling — something about the souvenirs he purchased — fixating on your school-issued shoes. 

What will come of this dynamic once you graduate? It won’t always be like this, right? You’ll train even harder, earn their trust, and prove yourself capable; then surely things will go back to how they used to be. How they’re supposed to be. This can’t be the new normal. They have to know that if they keep leaning on you for strength… 

… At some point, you’re bound to snap. 

[gh0stsp1d3r]

🍷heyyy, so I’ve read some of your stuff and usually I’m just a silent reader, but I NEED an angsty (4) oneshot of Rafe Cameron!!! Thank youuu

“I don’t feel safe with you anymore.”

part of my 8k celebration!! come join (:

WARNINGS: angst, toxic relationship, break up, mentions of drugs and mentions of verbal abuse, manipulation, he gets a lil angry… I was imagining this is season 2 rafe.

At the beginning, Rafe was the best boyfriend you could have asked for.

Always getting gifts for you, always giving you compliments, always being sweet to you, and he never shouted, never got mad. It was odd to you, because he had a reputation for it. But, he told you that people were just jealous, that they were lying.

It was months ago when the manipulation had started. Him always talking bad about your friends- about your family.

“They wanna separate us, baby. Don’t you see that?”

He had isolated you, insisting on you breaking ties with your family and your friends, telling you sweet lies to keep you coming back to him.

Then, he began to try and lie to you you. Multiple times for different things.

“Rafe- don’t lie to me-“ you spoke, jumping slightly when he slammed his hand down onto the desk.

“I’m not- are you serious? I’m not lying. That’s… that’s not mine.” He told you, motioning to the little plastic baggie in your hands, and then running a hand through his curtained bangs. “You’re fucking crazy.”

He became increasingly angry, the shouting and constant arguing slowly becoming too much for you. He eventually began breaking and throwing things during arguments, his anger getting the best of him.

You stood there, watching him throw yet another fit over something that had happened. After another argument.

You weren’t even talking when he did it. You flinched as soon as the dinner plate that sat in front of him crashed onto the floor, your eyes widening as you backed up into the wall, avoiding the shards that laid on the ground.

He continued his yelling, knocking other glass objects off counters, along with a vase that landed not too far from your feet, causing you to almost step on it if you weren’t careful.

Your eyes were blown wide with not anger, but rather fear. You were terrified of him in that moment.

When tears began to well up in your eyes, he just looked around the carnage he had let out, running a hand through his hair and letting out a breath.

Then came the jealousy, the fights he started for no real reason. It made your fear grow.

“You had no fucking reason.” You told him as you stormed away from the beach, grabbing your keys from your back pocket as you began walking.

“You should have seen the way he was looking at you!”

“He’s my friend!” You argued, turning on your heel to yell in his face.

“I told you, you don’t need anyone else. Why do you not understand that- that I just want what’s best for you?” He asked lowly, pointing at his chest.

You scoffed, shaking your head to yourself as you turned around again, unlocking your car and opening the door faster than he can be at your passenger seat.

“I don’t fucking understand!” He shouted, “Hey!” He continued when you got in your car, ignoring him as he yelled curses at you.

Finally, your breaking point was when you caught him doing cocaine over a glass table with Topper and Kelce next to him at another dumbass house party.

You had scoffed as soon as you set your gaze on the sight, watching him throw his head back with a euphoric smile on his face. There was still remnants of the powder on his nose when his gaze then fell on you- smile faltering.

“Hey, baby.” He spoke, rubbing his nose and nodding at you nonchalantly, Topper and Kelce glancing at each other.

You turned around, ignoring him calling your name as you pushed through the crowd and opened the door up, taking a deep, heavy sigh when you stepped outside, before you choked out a quiet sob, continuing the walk to your car as you attempted to wipe the tears that ran down your cheeks.

He followed behind, stumbling past everyone, ignoring Topper and Kelce when they attempted to drag him back inside.

“Nah, nah,” he shoved them off his shoulder, sniffling as he walked up to you, calling your name.

“Y/n. Y/n.” He spoke, going in front of you, blocking your car door.

“Go away, Rafe.” You murmured, him frowning at you. He reached out a hand, going to wipe your tears away before you flinched, grabbing his wrist and stopping him.

“Baby, we can talk ‘bout this-“

“No. I saw what I happened. There’s nothing to talk about.”

“You’re upset-“

“Great observation.” You snapped, huffing when you reached for the car door and he just grabbed your wrist in a tight hold.

“Let go of me.” You spoke, tone serious now.

“No.”

“Rafe-“ you wiggled your hand, letting out a cry when you felt his grip tighten, and you’re sure that in his drug-addled mind, he has no clue just how tight he’s grabbing you.

You let out yet another cry, and he just stares at you. “Let got of me.” You repeated through sobs, him scoffing and pulling away, holding his hands up in defense.

“Jesus- I didn’t even grab you that hard-“

“That’s not the problem!”

“Then what is?” He exasperated.

“You! You’re the problem, Rafe. I’m so…” you let out a shaky breath, “I’m so tired. I’m done. I’m just done.” You exclaimed, a weight off your shoulders with the confession. “I can’t do this anymore.” You motioned to the both of you.

“What? What the fuck are you even talking about?” He scoffed, and let out a laugh. “So- I’m the problem? How am I the problem?”

“Rafe. I don’t… I don’t feel safe with you anymore.” You breathed out.

Silence fell between the both of you, him processing your words.

He stared at you, crossing his arms over his chest.

“So… is this it?” He asked you, voice hushed. You saw the hurt on his face- but you reminded yourself of everything he’s put you through, everything that’s happened over the years.

“It is, Rafe.” You nodded, tears filling your eyes once again.

He stepped away from your car, and you opened til the door, both of you glancing at each other one last time, before you got into the drivers seat, speeding off as fast as possible, with loud sobs escaping you.

He watched as you drove away, letting out another sniffle, and having his own tears filling his eyes, before he wiped them away.

“Fuck.” He murmured, looking down at his feet, and sitting on the sidewalk, putting his face in his hands as he breathed out.

[cumironi]

THE FUN THING BOUT HAVING TWO BOYFRIENDS: GOJO SATORU, GETO SUGURU

there's one thing you like the most about having two boyfriends: dressing them up looking like twins and you often do that to your two boyfriends

[☆] MASTERLIST

dating the two most powerful sorcerers in the world was never part of your plan. yet, here you were, navigating the complexities of being in a relationship with both gojo satoru and geto suguru. It all started during your second year at tokyo jujutsu high. you, a skilled jujutsu sorcerer with a penchant for manipulating objects, find yourself increasingly drawn to the two enigmatic seniors. satoru, with his silver hair and azure eyes, exuded a playful confidence that was both intoxicating and infuriating. suguru, on the other hand, possessed a calm, commanding presence that grounded you in ways you never thought possible.

what began as a close friendship quickly blossomed into something more, something deeper. the three of you were inseparable, bound by the unspoken understanding that came with sharing the burdens and responsibilities of the jujutsu world. late-night training sessions turned into stolen kisses, and mission debriefs became quiet moments of connection. before you knew it, you were in a relationship with both of them, an arrangement that was as unconventional as it was exhilarating.

the one thing you enjoyed the most about this unique relationship? dressing them up to look like twins.

your love for fashion was no secret. you adored experimenting with different styles and looks, and having two handsome boyfriends was like having your own personal runway show. satoru and suguru, for all their differences, shared a similar physique, making it easy to dress them in coordinating outfits. they indulged your whims, sometimes with a smirk, other times with a playful roll of the eyes, but always with a willingness that made your heart swell.

you remember the first time you suggested the idea. It was a lazy sunday afternoon, and the three of you were lounging in satoru's expansive living room. suguru laying at the end of the couch with a book in hand and glasses covered his eyes, while you and satoru at the other end with you sitting between satoru's leg while he watches some movies. his large pale arm wrapped around your waist as he give your neck and shoulder a kisses from time to time.

you had been flipping through a fashion magazine, occasionally showing them outfits you thought would look good on them. satoru darted his eyes from the tv to look at the magazines at your hands. he smiles when he sees the man's clothes catalog. satoru, ever the joker, suggested you dress them up, “don't you think it would be cute for you to dress us up like a twins, baby?” he asks as he kisses your cheeks before pulling you closer. his eyes sparkled with mischief, but there was a genuine curiosity in his gaze. suguru, more reserved but no less intrigued, nodded in agreement.

“you think?” you ask, looking up.

he shrugged, “i don't mind, I think it's cute, don't you suguru?” he nudges suguru feet that tangled with his and yours with his feet. suguru looks up from his book.

“why not?” he said, his deep voice sending shivers down your spine. he looks at you smiling from his book, getting up for a moment to give your lips a quick kiss. “could be fun.”

from that day on, it became a tradition. whenever you had the chance, you'd scour boutiques and online stores for matching outfits, relishing the challenge of finding pieces that complemented both of them. casual streetwear, elegant suits, even traditional kimonos—no style was off-limits. each time they donned the twin outfits, you felt a surge of pride and joy, knowing that they did it for you, that they trusted you enough to share in this playful part of your relationship.

one sunny morning, you decided it was time for another twin-themed day. you had found the perfect outfits: sleek black turtlenecks, tailored grey slacks, and matching leather jackets. the simplicity of the ensemble highlighted their natural charisma and physical allure. as you laid out the clothes on the bed, you couldn't help but feel a thrill of anticipation.

satoru was the first to emerge from the shower, a towel draped loosely around his hips. his hair, usually gravity-defying, was damp and plastered to his forehead. he grinned when he saw the clothes, blue eyes twinkling with excitement. “looks sharp, baby,” he commented, reaching for the turtleneck.

“I like it.” he put his hand to your back to give you a kiss when the other hand held the clothes. suguru appeared shortly after, freshly showered and toweling off his long, dark hair. he gave you a warm smile, his eyes softening as he took in the outfits.

“you have good taste,” he said, pulling on the slacks. he held your cheeks to kiss you for a second and ended it with a kiss on your forehead. you smiling ear to ear, feeling content with how your boyfriends reacted.

as they dressed, you watched, heart swelling with affection. there was something undeniably charming about seeing them in matching clothes, their distinct personalities shining through despite the coordinated outfits. satoru, with his playful energy, made the ensemble look effortlessly cool, while suguru's quiet strength gave it a touch of elegance.

“well, well, well, it looks like a model needs to find a new job, I mean.. look at my boyfriends,“ you said, once they were fully dressed. “you both look perfect, oh my boyfriends, always so handsome me,” you take a step closer to gives them kiss on the cheeks.

they struck a pose, mirroring each other with exaggerated seriousness, and you burst out laughing. It was moments like these that made all the chaos and danger of your lives as jujutsu sorcerers worth it.

after an enjoyable morning of playing dress-up, you and your boyfriends, decided to visit a newly opened café in Shibuya. as soon as the three of you entered, heads turned and whispers followed, drawn to the striking presence of satoru and suguru in their matching outfits.

at the counter, the cashier, a young woman with a flirtatious demeanor, couldn't hide her interest as satoru confidently approached to place the order. he flashed her a charming smile, his charisma undeniable as he ordered for the three of you.

“three lattes, please,“ Satoru said, his voice smooth and warm. “and a couple of your best pastries. do you want anything more, baby?” he asked you, his hand gently resting on yours in a tender gesture. you smiled, feeling the affectionate touch. “that sounds perfect, toru.”

meanwhile, suguru stood beside you, casually placing his hand on your waist as he made his own selection from the menu. the cashier's initial interest wavered as she realized suguru was also your boyfriend, her demeanor shifting slightly. as you waited for your order, you settled into a cozy corner booth with satoru and suguru. the atmosphere was vibrant and welcoming, the café buzzing with conversation and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee.

“you two certainly know how to attract attention,” you teased lightly, leaning against satoru's shoulder as suguru sat beside you. suguru chuckled softly, his gaze warm as he looked at you. “blame it on satoru's charm and your irresistible company, baby.” satoru grinned playfully, his arm wrapping around you. “can't help it if we make a good-looking trio, right?” the waitress soon arrived with your lattes and pastries, setting them down with a polite smile.

as the waitress hurried off after taking your order, satoru and suguru exchanged amused glances with you, their eyes twinkling with shared amusement. It was clear that the cashier had taken a shine to them, but they seemed unfazed, content in each other's company. suguru chuckled softly, shaking his head.

“looks like we've got an admirer.”

satoru flashed a playful grin, his arm draped casually around your shoulders. “can you blame her? we do make quite the impression.” you couldn't help but laugh, shaking your head at their playful confidence. “you two are shameless.” suguru raised an eyebrow, his expression teasing. “oh, come on. You know you love being with the most sought-after guys in the room.” satoru leaned closer, his voice low and playful.

“and we're all yours, sweetheart.”

you rolled your eyes affectionately, enjoying the banter. “lucky me, huh? I'll have to fend off all the admirers.” suguru chuckled softly, his hand brushing against yours. “we'll just have to remind them who you belong to.

“Indeed. It's like being with celebrities.”

satoru's voice dripped with playful cockiness as he leaned back in his chair, his grin widening. suguru and you exchanged amused glances, unable to suppress your smiles at satoru's confident charm. “well, you know, it's a burden being this charming.” you rolled your eyes affectionately, enjoying their banter. “oh, I'm sure it's so tough.” suguru chuckled softly, his hand gently squeezing yours.

“well, aren't we lucky,” suguru replied with a hint of dry humor, his tone light and teasing. you chuckled softly, shaking your head. “ I guess I'll have to get used to the paparazzi following us around.” satoru laughed, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “hey, it's not easy being this famous. but someone's got to handle the attention.”

suguru shook his head in disbelief, “so humble, satoru.”

“suguru, my man, it's not easy being this charming,“ satoru quipped with a playful grin, leaning back in his chair as he sipped his latte. the corner of suguru's mouth quirked up in a faint smile, amused by satoru's jest.

“you've got a gift, satoru,” you chimed in, unable to hide your own smile at their banter. “but let's not forget who keeps you grounded.” suguru nodded in agreement, his gaze softening as he looked at you. “Indeed. you're the heart and soul of this operation.” satoru chuckled, raising his latte in a mock salute.

“to our humble leader.”

the three of you clinked imaginary glasses, laughter bubbling up as you shared another moment of playful camaraderie. In that cozy corner booth of the café, surrounded by the comforting buzz of conversation and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee, you felt an immense gratitude for the love and joy shared between you.

as the day unfolded, filled with more laughter, shared stories, and quiet moments of closeness, you knew that these simple yet profound moments with satoru and suguru were the ones that truly defined your happiness together.

as the day wore on, you found yourself reflecting on how far the three of you had come. there had been challenges, of course—moments of jealousy, misunderstandings, and the ever-present danger of your work as jujutsu sorcerers. but through it all, you had built a bond that was unbreakable, grounded in trust, love, and mutual respect.

dressing them up as twins was a small but significant part of that bond. It was a way for you to express your love, to show them how much they meant to you. and in return, they indulged you, embracing the playful ritual with a willingness that spoke volumes about their feelings for you.

that evening, as you returned home, the three of you settled into the living room, the day's adventures leaving you pleasantly tired. satoru stretched out on the couch, his head resting in your lap, while suguru sat beside you, his arm draped over your shoulders.

“today was fun,” satoru said, his voice drowsy. “we should do it more often.” suguru nodded, his fingers gently tracing patterns on your arm. “agreed. It's important to make time for each other.” you smiled, your heart swelling with love for these two incredible men. “absolutely. And next time, I have the perfect outfits in mind.”

they groaned in unison, but their smiles betrayed their true feelings. dressing them up like twins was a small part of your relationship, but it brought you immense joy. and as long as you had satoru and suguru by your side, you knew that life would always be an adventure.

[itsnesss]

subby min-su from squid game who likes to be degraded? >.<

𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 | park min-su (player 125) × fem!reader

summary | the request

warnings | smut, explicit content, emotional manipulation, power dynamics dom!reader, sub!min-su, masturbation, degradation

word count | 1.2 k

author's note | it would help me a lot if you liked, commented and reposted so that more people read what I write and don't forget to follow me, thanks ᡣ𐭩

You lean against the cold bedroom wall while the murmur of the exhausted players fills the air. But your attention is not on them. Your eyes search for him: Min-su, player 125, always moving in the background, always trying to go unnoticed.

There is something fascinating about her way of being, in that submissive and cautious manner of avoiding any confrontation. You can't help but smile when you see how his shoulders tense up when he notices you're watching him. You watch as he asks to go to the bathroom and you follow him. Tonight, there's no escape.

"Min-su" you call softly, but with enough firmness to make him stop.

He freezes, his eyes fixed on the ground as if he feared facing you.

"Are you running away from me?" you ask, slowly approaching.

"N-no…" he stammers, his voice barely a whisper.

"Of course not," you murmur, leaning towards him. "Because you can't, can you?"

He doesn't respond, but the blush on his cheeks is enough confirmation. You love seeing him like this, caught between fear and something else he doesn't dare to admit.

"Tell me, Min-su," you demand, your tone soft but commanding. I want to hear you.

Her breathing quickens, and she finally surrenders to your words.

"I like it..." he admits with a trembling voice.

The power of that confession courses through you like a jolt. You lean in closer, savoring every second of their surrender.

"You're pathetic" you whisper to him, without malice but without compassion. "But that's what I like about you".

He swallows hard, his eyes finally meeting yours. There is something different now, a spark of acceptance in his gaze. What he feels for you is not just fear or submission, there's something more there. Something that intrigues you.

"I want to see you," you say, staring at him intently. I want to see what you've been trying to hide from me. Undress.

That makes him react. He turns towards you, his arms crossed over his chest.

He tries to object, but you don't let yourself be impressed.

"You made a pact with me, Min-su. And if you give up now, everyone will realize that you are not what you seem. You didn't let me down, did you?"

He cannot deny your words. He slowly lowers his hands, his fingers trembling as he tries to unbutton his shirt. Her chest slowly emerges, revealing soft and tender skin. It's all you need. What has led you to make this bet.

"I told you that if I won this game, I wanted something of yours," you remind him. And you know what I want.

You nod in approval when you see her smooth skin exposed.

"Don't disappoint me," you murmur, running your fingers over her hips. Undress for me, Min-su.

It's as if your words were the trigger for her complete surrender. With a desperate moan, he takes off his jersey. His torso emerges, and your eyes widen at the sight of his bare skin.

"That's what I was waiting for," you murmur, stroking her thighs. Now, the underwear.

He writhes for a moment, but soon obeys. His fingers move nervously around his pants. But there is no escape. His pants fall to his feet, then his boxers. You see him with trembling legs, his eyes fixed on you, as if he didn't know what to do. He doesn't have to do anything. You just need to accept your fate.

"I just won, Min-su. You can see why".

He nods silently, his eyes glistening with tears.

"Tell me," you demand.

"Yes. I can understand it" he whispers, his gaze meeting yours. "I like..." his voice trembles as he speaks. "I like that you like my body".

You smile upon hearing his words. You knew what was behind his subdued exterior, but you truly couldn't imagine how much there was in him. What he had tried to hide from you was much more than you had imagined. And she has only just realized what she feels at this moment.

"And what do you want?" you ask him, stroking him from top to bottom.

"I want..." he moans, his eyes falling to your feet. I want you to treat me like an object. I want to see you enjoy me as if you were the owner of my body.

"You are mine" you assert with a whisper. "That's what you must remember. You are at my command, Min-su. Because you are mine".

"Oh, God," she whispers. "Oh, please. Do it. Do whatever you want with me. Please".

You get closer to him, whispering in his ear.

"That's what I'll do. I will do what I want from you, Min-su. Do you understand? I'll do what I want and when I want. Because you are the prize I have earned tonight, Min-su. The prize you promised me. And I'm not going to let you get away".

"Please..." he whispers. I promise. I promise you that I will always be there for you. Always!Please, don't let me go!

You laugh softly upon hearing his babbling. You can feel their hopes rising, their body trembling in anticipation. And you know you've had him since the moment he took off his clothes. What you need is your reward.

"So, I'm going to start" you whisper. "I'm going to do this..." you begin to say, but leave it hanging. "What I desire".

You smile again, your smile a promise of the night to come. Min-su approaches you, his mouth searching for you with anxiety. You stop him with your hand. His eyes look at you with desperation.

"No. Not yet" you tell him.

"Why not?" he cries, his breath quickening. I told you I'm ready for you. I will do anything you ask me to.

"You know why" you say with a smile. "You are not the prize. You are just the consolation prize. Or don't you remember why? Or don't you remember your place? Or don't you remember what I am?"

His eyes widen, and a new wave of terror washes over his face. You know it. You know that fear. But you know it's not the same fear as before. No. Now he knows what you are. He knows what you will do.

"I remember," he finally says, his words barely a whisper." I remember your bet. And I know why I'm the consolation prize".

"Perfect" you murmur. "That's right".

Her gaze meets yours, her eyes frightened.

"Wait," she moans. "Are you going to hurt me? Haven't you said that you like me? Haven't you told me that you are my owner?"

"And now are you going to hurt me?"

"No" you say. In fact, you smile. Their eyes widen even more at the sight of your smile.

"I'm going to give you what you've always wanted," you say. The true reason why you have always followed me, the true reason why you are here.

He doesn't ask what you mean. Just nods in silence.

"I understand," he says simply. And when he looks at you, his eyes are shining with tears of acceptance.

Of surrender. Of obedience.

You smile in response. You know. You know everything. You can see it in their eyes. Everything he has been trying to hide from you is revealed in his pupils. All the pain, all the desire, all that he has waited for with such longing. All her fear towards you.

"Don't be afraid," you say. This won't hurt you.

He nods again, his gaze searching for you once more.

"I'm ready," he says firmly. I'm ready for whatever.

You nod. Now is the right moment. You slide your fingers across his chest, caressing them as you move towards his crotch. You feel it there, erect and ready. With a whisper, you wrap your hand around it, squeezing gently. Min-su moans in surprise and pleasure.

"There it is" you murmur in their ears. "That's where I want you".

You begin to masturbate him then, your fingers squeezing his member, sliding up and down gently. Min-su's body begins to tremble, his gasps increasing with each caress. You see him trembling, his face sweaty, his eyes shining with longing and desperation. A deep moan escapes his lips and your fingers tighten around him.

"I'm going to..." he moans, trying to grab your wrists.

"Don't worry," you murmur with a smile, without letting him go. "I'll know when you're coming. I will always know what you need".

You nod, quickening your caresses. Their gasps become more intense. His body arches upwards, his hands gripping your shoulders. You feel him about to come.

"Do you want to come for me?" you whisper in his ears.

"Oh, God…" he groans. "Yes! Yes!"

A moment later, he lets out a sigh. A cry of pleasure escapes his lips. His arms wrap around your hips, his entire body trembling in your embrace. You let him do it, cradling him in your arms as he spills out. You feel him trembling in your arms, his breath ragged, his heart pounding with fury.

You cradle him in your arms for a moment longer and kiss him gently on the cheek. Min-su nods, smiling faintly.

"Thank you," he groans.

"Good boy" you smile at him.

You hug him one more moment before leaving him there, alone.

[noira-l]

𝙳𝚒𝚜𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: You were a prodigy, destined for greatness, until one mistake cost you everything- your powers, your legacy, and your father’s pride. Now, powerless and adrift, you wait for your father's decision on your fate, unsure if you’ll face exile, servitude, or something worse. A shadow of who you once were, you push everyone away, drowning in the weight of your own failure. Then there’s Gojo Satoru. Your rival, your tormentor, and the last person you expect to care about your fall. But instead of mockery, his gaze carries something else - something you can’t bring yourself to believe.

𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 — teen!gojo satoru x f!reader

𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜/𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚜 — mdni, heavy angst, hurt/no comfort, prodigy!reader, reader is from clan, rivals with benefits, mention of sexual intercourse, hate sex, depiction of complicated relationship, loss of technique, hurt, mourning (pain, grief, regret), depression, self-doubt, changing body, depiction of loneliness, reader pushes everyone away, jjk clans are shit, family abuse, long term manipulation, smoking, drowning, failed attempt of self-destruction (gojo saves reader), reader goes no contact, reader becomes maiko/geiko later on.

𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝 — 11 k

𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚛'𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚎 — this is the longest list of warnings I have ever written, congrats to me (kidding). I don't know if anyone will like it. I know it's dark, very unhealthy and absolutely depressing. It's not good, and I don't recommend anyone to act in the way depicted in this fic. It is possible that I will remove it in the future. If you are struggling with such issues, I would highly encourage you to talk to someone you trust about it. However, I want to thank everyone who chooses to read this.

𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

It really wasn't difficult to avoid.

You could've waited literally two seconds.

You could've let the assistant check the area as he should after the mission.

You could've not searched the area yourself.

You could've notified the assistant that you had found a cursed object, in the shrine debris.

You could've waited for the assistant to come up to check with you.

You could've not approached the cursed object.

You could've not picked it up. You could've been smarter.

Maybe if you were - you would still have your powers.

Your technique had been everything they claimed it to be. Rare, devastating, invaluable. It wasn’t just a skill - it was a mark of distinction, the proof of your place in a centuries-old legacy. The elders whispered of its rarity, marveling at the precision and control with which you teach yourself to wielded it.

They called you a prodigy, the one destined to elevate the clan to greater heights.

The weight of those expectations had always been crushing, but you bore it with a silent, unyielding resolve. You had to. You had no choice.

But there was another side to this. You wanted to bore it. You wanted to shush all the gossip, all the rumours that might suggest that you can't do something. Besides you found yourself enjoying this kind of powers

The whispers about your gender - about how being a woman might complicate your ability to lead, to fulfill the role they expected of you - only hardened your resolve.

You would prove them wrong, all of them, you told yourself.

But you also wanted your father's approval.

Your father was the only thing close to you. Your mother died in childbirth or left with a lover, you never knew which version was the truth. As a child, you never thought about it, the truth is, everyone around you only mentioned your father, how you should be his pride, his tribute and how you should do everything to make him feel content about you.

This propaganda worked.

And this mindset became an integral part of you.

His approval wasn’t just your goal - it was your oxygen, your sustenance. His rare moments of pride were your reward, and his disappointment - your greatest fear.

You could hear his voice in your mind, the way it would brighten ever so slightly when you succeeded "Good. This is good. Keep this up." those words had kept you going through grueling hours of training, through sleepless nights spent honing your skills to perfection. The bruises, the pain, the exhaustion - they were nothing compared to the glow of his approval, the fleeting light that told you you were enough, if only for a moment.

But his eyes also dulled with such terrifying speed when you stumbled, even slightly. A poorly executed maneuver, a delay in judgment during a sparring session, a lapse in control, all of it was met with silence, with the cold weight of his disappointment pressing down on you like a vice. It was in those moments that you became acutely aware of your imperfection, of how fragile his pride in you truly was.

This however had shaped you into a perfectionist, a creature of cold calculation.

Training became part of your life, your identity. You lived for the applause of the elders, for the murmured praise of the clan, but above all, for the fleeting flicker of pride in your father’s eyes.

He had once told you, long ago, when you were too young to fully understand his words, that you were his gift "Special, rare." he had said, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it since "A gift I received at your birth."

You had clung to those words, replaying them in your mind whenever the pressure became unbearable. They were your anchor, your proof that you mattered, that you were loved - not as a daughter, perhaps, but as something far more valuable, something exceptional.

But in a perspective - you weren't the only exceptional thing in this world.

Even before you understood what rivalry meant, you had been told, over and over, how your birth ranked second in significance.

The second most talked thing.

The first? Him.

You had grown up under the long shadow of a name: Gojo Satoru.

A boy born with unparalleled power, eyes as vivid as the summer sky, whos very existence shaked the foundations of the jujutsu world. While your family whispered of your technique with cautious pride, his family declared him the strongest before he could even speak.

Comparison was inevitable. You were prodigies, both of you, but where your brilliance was honed through discipline, his was uncontainable, raw, and overwhelming. You were rare - he was the one.

You still remembered the first time you saw him. You couldn’t have been more than six, dressed in formal robes too heavy for your small frame, the silk scratchy against soft skin. The clan meeting was dull, filled with stiff adults exchanging words that meant nothing to you. But then, in the corner of the room, you felt a presence - bright, piercing, impossible to ignore.

When you turned, his eyes met yours.

Wide, unblinking, and startlingly blue, they stared at you like they could see through your skin, through your bones, through everything that made you, you. He didn’t say anything, didn’t smile or nod - just stared, like he was trying to decide if you were worth noticing at all.

Even then, something about him annoyed you.

As you grew older, the comparisons became sharper, louder. Clan sparring matches became a regular event, a spectacle for the elders to evaluate their bloodlines. You, Gojo, Kamo, that Zen’in heir, and a handful of others were pitted against one another under the guise of "training." But you all knew the truth. It was a game of dominance, of proving which clan held the strongest future.

Gojo made it a point to be insufferable.

"Chicken fights." he had once sneered, grinning as he sat perched on a rock like a king addressing his subjects. You had just beaten one of the Zen’in cousins, a victory that had left your father smiling faintly in the audience. But Gojo’s voice cut through the cheers "That’s all this is. You flap your wings, you strut around, but it doesn’t matter. None of you will ever beat me."

The others ignored him, too smart - or too scared - to engage. But not you.

"I’d rather be a chicken than a brat with a big mouth." you’d shot back, your voice steady despite the fire burning in your chest.

His grin widened, and for a moment, you thought he might actually take you seriously. But then he laughed - a loud, obnoxious sound that echoed through the sparring grounds "Cute." he said, hopping off his perch and walking past you like you weren’t even worth his time "Let me know when you’re ready to play with the big kids."

Now, years later, the rivalry had followed you into Jujutsu High, where it seemed impossible to escape him. The same classes, the same missions, the same suffocating aura of superiority that surrounded him wherever he went.

He was a little different. Not in the way you’d imagined someone "different" might be - quiet, mysterious, unassuming. No, he was loud, arrogant, and so assured in his strength that it bordered on unbearable.

The fire you’d felt as a child, that relentless desire to outdo him, to prove yourself, had cooled over the years. But it hadn’t gone out. Instead, it had transformed into something sharper, something a little colder - a blade honed not just to cut him down but to carve out your own space in a world that refused to see you as anything more than a shadow cast by his brilliance. It wasn’t just about beating him anymore. It was about standing on equal ground, forcing him - and everyone else - to recognize you as something other than second best.

You tried to take it slow, to ingore him.

Gojo didn’t make it easy.

He had a way of getting under your skin that no one else could. Just a glance from him could set your teeth on edge, that wide, knowing smirk playing on his lips like he was already ten steps ahead of you. He mocked you constantly, his words sharp and teasing, always laced with that infuriating arrogance that only he could pull off.

Every encounter was a contest, every conversation a challenge, every moment spent in his presence a battle for dominance.

You danced around each other endlessly, an intricate, unspoken rhythm that neither of you could break. One moment, he’d set the direction, leading with a cocky ease that seemed unshakable - the next, you’d outpace him, forcing him to catch up, to adjust to your steps.

The dance extended into every aspect of your lives. Missions became opportunities to one-up each other, to prove who was faster, sharper, more capable. Training sessions were wars of endurance, each of you pushing harder, refusing to yield until exhaustion forced a truce. Even on days off, when most people would relax or recover, you found ways to compete - whether it was sparring, aruging or something as mundane as seeing who could stack the most chairs before they toppled over.

His attention was relentless, his focus always sharp and unyielding. He discounted you with every other word, mocking your efforts, analyzing your achievements as if he were the ultimate judge of your worth. His words - arrogant and biting - were no better.

"Trying to catch up to me again? Good luck with that, shortcake."

"Don’t trip over your own shadow while you’re chasing me."

"Nice job today, small fry. Almost makes me feel like you’re worth competing with."

Each message was a spark, igniting the fire that drove you to prove him wrong, to show him - and yourself - that you were more than capable of matching him. To the point of beating him.

Neither of you ever held the upper hand for long - one day his victory, the next yours. The score didn’t matter, though. What mattered was that the fire between you never burned out, keeping you locked in this endless, maddening dance.

And maddening was pace of his hips that were thrusting into you every other day. The old floor, even with a layer of training mat, would creak under his powerful movements.

Both of you decided after some time that your dispute had to be settled by other means, so you challenged each other to a duel where there were no rules and all moves were allowed. It usually ended with the two of you meeting in the old training room after class, to resolve a conflict you were currently having. The winner was the one who first knocked his opponent finally to the ground.

Differently these encounters ended, sometimes he was the unbeatable winner, pounding you into the floor, bending you at every possible angle, whispering sweet nothingess and words of mocking encouragement to your ear, making tears drip down your flushed cheeks. Sometimes it was you who won, pinning him to the floor, bouncing off his hips in a frenzy, one in which you commented on how loud he was, how crying and pathetic he looked - words that were meant to degrade him, were just making his glimmering eyes roll back. Eyebrows raised and stupid handsome face twisted in a sigh so beautful that you would end up with the lost of insults after a while.

He won last week. Your asscheeks painfully pounded into the mat material, as your hands clasped tightly on his shoulders, creating scars that were meant to affect him, but only seemed to make him whine even more. Laughing breathlessly at your attempts to hurt him, as if he wasn't the one leaving rudely visible red marks on your neck that poke through uniform.

He'll probably laugh about winning his final match, too.

Because there will never be any again.

Everyone tried everything to undo the effects of what had happened - to remove the curse. When this proved impossible by the specifications of the object you touched, which could be called a trap, they at least tried to restore the flow of your cursed energy. This, too, proved to be a failure.

You’d told yourself, at first, that it must be temporary. That the connection to your technique would return, that this was just a setback. It had to be. Something so integral to your being couldn’t just vanish - it was part of you, wasn’t it?

That was you, right?

But each attempt proved fruitless. Every meditation session, every exercise, every attempt to summon even the faintest flicker of cursed energy - it all ended the same way: in silence, in emptiness.

The denial fueled your determination, pushing you into training sessions that bordered on self-destruction. You traded your technique for raw physicality, throwing punches at the training dummy until your fists bled, the skin splitting open as you struck again and again. And again. Sweat soaked through your clothes, mingling with tears you refused to acknowledge as they streamed down your face.

You screamed, raw and guttural, into the empty training field, but the sound brought no release, only exhaustion. You never shouted like that, never cried like when you fell on the ground and realised it was all pointless.

One conclusion came from your attempts.

You had been crippled.

"Maybe if I had a son, he wouldn't have made such a foolish mistake." the words clung to you, searing through the phone’s receiver like acid. Your father’s voice, sharp and cold, cut through the fragile thread of composure you had been holding onto. The regret, the disappointment, and - worst of all - the indifference. He didn’t even sound angry, just tired. Tired of you.

Your throat burned.

"Father, please..." but you didn’t know what you were asking for -mercy, understanding, or perhaps the impossible: forgiveness.

"You've squandered everything." his voice was steady, unaffected "Centuries of legacy, your birthright, your technique - gone. Do you understand the magnitude of what you’ve done?"

Do you? You couldn’t even bring yourself to speak. Your thoughts swirled into a vortex of self-loathing, replaying the moment over and over again.

"We'll talk later when I decide what to do with you." and just like that he hung up.

That was it. No comfort. No acknowledgment of the years you’d given, the sacrifices you’d made, or the countless moments you’d bled and bruised yourself into perfection. The line had gone dead with a finality that echoed through your chest like a hammer strike. His voice - so cold, so detached - ingered in your mind, cutting deeper than any curse could.

You set the phone down on the desk, your hand trembling slightly as you withdrew from it, as though it might burn you if you held on any longer. The chair creaked faintly beneath you as you sat motionless, staring at the wall opposite you.

You wanted to apologise to him, to beg his forgiveness for your mistake, for your stupidity, you wanted to cry on his shoulder, to apologise - again - that you had let him down. But he just wasn't interested. He was no longer interested in your perspective.

You, simply didn't interest him.

That room was dim, the shadows thick and suffocating, broken only by the faint glow of a single overhead light. It wasn’t enough to fully illuminate the faces of the elders who stood before you, their disapproval palpable, their voices sharp and cutting as they dissected your situation. Each word they spoke dug into your chest, stripping away what little pride you had left.

You were stripped off the title of a prodigy.

They called you a dissapointment now.

You became an example.

A cautionary tale.

The damage has already been done.

People tried to reach you. Geto, Shoko, Nanami - even Yaga made an effort to draw you out of your spiral. But their words felt hollow, meaningless. What could they possibly say that would fix what had been broken? They didn’t understand. How could they? They still had their power, their purpose, their place in this world. You didn’t.

He was on mission overseas, so maybe the information about your state didn't quite reach him yet. Not that you cared if he made contact.

He would probably just laugh at you anyway.

Of all these people Geto, had tried the hardest, his presence quiet but persistent. He tried to be there for you. But there was no you inside.

He’d sat beside one day, his hand resting gently on your shoulder. His touch, once an unremarkable soft gesture, now felt heavy - too heavy. You realized then just how much strength he had, how much stronger he’d become while you had only weakened. His grip, once equal to yours, now dwarfed it.

"You’re still here." he’d said softly, his voice careful, measured "That matters the most."

You couldn’t bring yourself to respond. The weight of his words pressed against your chest, but they couldn’t penetrate the hollow void inside you. Instead, you’d turned away, muttering some excuse to just leave.

You didn’t want his pity. You didn’t want anyone’s.

You didn't believe that anything else mattered to anyone except your gift. Not after everything that happends.

So you let yourself sink in that conviction.

Your own reflection became that a stranger. Each glance in the mirror revealed another part of yourself fading away. Your muscles, once taut and defined from years of rigorous training, softened, weakened. Your face, once bright with determination and pride, dulled, the light in your eyes all but extinguished. Even your posture changed, slouching under the weight of your defeat.

You avoided mirrors after that. It was easier not to look at yourself, not to see the person you’d become.

The thought of him haunted you. He was the only person who had not yet spoken about your situation. You could almost hear the laughter that would spill from his lips when he found out.

He’d won, hadn’t he? He will be happy that you lost.

Not through a sparring match or a test of strength, but through your own stupidity. He wouldn’t even need to lift a finger - your downfall was self-inflicted. The irony wasn’t lost on you.

He’d probably make a joke of it, something biting and sharp, something that would leave you hollowed out even further. The idea of facing him, of hearing his voice, made your stomach twist - but you kinda wanted him to say somthing to you.

Although you were sure what his reaction would be.

By early autumn you became a ghost of the person you’d once been, a shell going through the motions. The world felt distant, muted, as though you were walking through a haze. The wind carried the crisp scent of leaves, the air beacme sharp enough to sting your lungs as you exhaled. Your student status was taken away by higher-ups, they decided that sending you on a mission was pointless. Just like you. The peak of your skill now was ability to see a curse, not to fight one.

You could do whatever you wanted, so you went to all sorts of faraway places.

You’d grown used to the isolation. It was easier not to see anyone, not to hear the pity in their voices or feel their lingering stares. Geto had tried, tried and tried. Staying with you whenever he could, but even his presence, as steady and grounding as it was, felt too heavy. He tried talking to you, but your mind seemed closed to his willingness to help and his affectionate tone. You weren't a person who knew how to accept help from others, no one ever taught you that. Even if you appreciated it, you didn't know how to show it. And the truth was - you couldn’t bear the weight of his concern, couldn’t summon the energy to reassure anyone that you were fine.

Because you weren’t fine. You were no longer yourself.

That was the only thing that had mattered.

You wanted to disappear into the nothingness that seemed to have taken root inside you. You wanted to stop existing in a world where you no longer had a place, where the purpose that had defined you all your life was gone.

But instead, you thought. And thought. Alone, in the dark, your mind was a relentless spiral, turning over every moment, every decision that had brought you to this point.

You never really faced your fears before, you realized.

This and many other thoughts stirred in your head like a swirl, twisting your perception of reality.

You were walking through the school gates, the crisp golden leaves crunching under your boots. The sun hung low in the sky, its light casting long shadows across the pavement.

You really didn’t expect to see him.

He was back.

Snow-white hair catching the sunlight, posture impossibly relaxed, as if the weight of the world didn’t touch him. He walked with that characteristic ease, the kind that could embarrass a hundred men without effort. His phone was pressed to his ear, and you could hear his laughter even from a distance - light, careless, the kind of laugh that had always annoyed you.

For a moment, you thought he wouldn’t notice you. Of course - why would he? You didn’t even have the faintest trace of cursed energy anymore. You were just a random person, a shadow of who you’d once been, just a presence walking aimlessly on a pleasant autumn afternoon.

You kept your hands buried in your pockets, eyes fixed on the path ahead, determined to pass him without incident. Without one stupid comment. Without one look into that judging eyes.

You realized you weren't ready to face him. A whole range of emotions came up in you: anger, anticipation, sadness, wanting, resignation, longing, but most of all - shame.

But then his gaze fell on you.

You could feel it before you even looked up, the weight of his attention, sharp and unmissable. His eyes flicked over you once, casual and dismissive, but then he froze. Head snapped back in your direction, and the expression on his face shifted so quickly it almost startled you. Satisfaction melted into pure, unfiltered shock.

You didn’t stop.

You didn’t have the strength to deal with him, with his taunts, his smirks, his cutting words, his blue eyes. Not now. Not ever. You moved past him without a word, steps steady and deliberate, though your heart pounded in your chest so much.

You will let him enjoy his win in your silence.

"Oi!" his voice cut through the air, sharp, insistent "Stop you - Wait!"

You didn’t turn around. In fact you didn’t even flinch. Instead, you reached into pocket, pulling out the battered pack of cigarettes Shoko had handed you weeks ago. You lit one with a shaky hand, the ember flaring briefly before the smoke curled into the air. You inhaled deeply, the bitter taste grounding you as you kept walking.

Gojo stood frozen, watching you disappear down the path. He tried calling after you couple of times, louder each time. But he didn't run after you. Six Eyes scanned your silhouette with dangerous precision, noticing every small detail that had changed. The slump in your shoulders, the sharpness of your cheekbones, the dullness in your eyes. The lack of a slightest trace of cursed energy.

What the hell happend to you?

He hadn’t seen you in weeks, but the person walking away from him now was unrecognizable.

You weren’t just tired. You weren't yourself.

You came back hours later to pack your belongings.

The weight of tomorrow hung heavy in your chest, suffocating and inescapable. Your father’s decision loomed over you, its implications gnawing at your already fragile sense of self.

You decided to take a walk, one last time over the terrain you knew and loved so well.

You didn’t want to think about what he might have planned for you. You didn’t want to imagine the hollow life that awaited you, stripped of your identity and power. But the thoughts were relentless, swirling in your mind as you walked, each step taking you farther from the dormitory and deeper into the forest.

Would he make you a servant? Marry you off to someone important, someone who could salvage what little value you had left? Would he exile you to the far corners of the clan, where you would live out your days in quiet obscurity?

The possibilities churned in your mind, each one heavier than the last.

For weeks, you’d been coming here, searching for something in that reflection. Searching for the person you used to be, the prodigy who had stood tall and proud, who had been her father’s pride and her clan’s future. But all you found was a ghost, a shadow of what you once were.

The night was quiet, perfect for the last one here, the air heavy with the crisp scent of fallen leaves and damp earth. A pale moon hung in the sky, its light casting silvery ripples over the world, softening the edges of reality.

You crouched down, as you approached the edge of the water. Your hands brushing against the damp grass, and stared into the lake’s surface. For a moment, the sight of your reflection startled you, as it always did now.

You closed your eyes, for a brief moment, the quiet of the forest enveloping you. A faint rustle of leaves, the distant call of nightlife and the soft lapping of water against the shore - it was all so achingly peaceful. And yet, it offered no comfort.

The lake held no answers, no revelations. Just the same distorted reflection, the same fractured image of yourself.

The reflection there was faint, distorted, but still recognizable. You could make out the curve of your jaw, the hollowness of your cheeks, the dim light in your eyes that once burned so brightly. You stared at yourself, unblinking, searching for the person you had been.

But you were gone.

...

What is the point of all this?

The question came unbidden, as it had so many times before. It's not like you're usefull to anyone. Your whole life has been based on being a sorcerer, the next clan head also, but not being just a human. You don't know how to live a normal life - you don't know if you even want to live one.

You thought about the weight of your father’s expectations, the years you had spent chasing his approval. You thought about the countless hours of training, the bruises, the exhaustion, the fleeting moments of pride that had kept you going. And you thought about the emptiness you felt now, the void left behind by the loss of your technique.

It's all been bringing you to one conclusion for some time: you are nothing without your technique.

This is a painful truth that you had to accept some time ago.

You had the feeling that the water was looking at you - offering a hideout.

You moved, taking one hesitant step forward.

It won't be that bad, right? Everything is better than facing the consequences of your own stupidity.

Another step joined the previous one, your feet touching the cold surface. The smell of wet grass and vegetation wafted through the air.

You’d left everything behind on the shore. Your jacket, hoodie, and shoes - they lay in a silent heap, abandoned like everything else in your life. You won't need them anymore.

The water was cold. Icy. It cut through your skin like shards of glass, wrapping around you with an unforgiving grip as you plunged deeper and deeper into the darkness. The shock of it made your muscles tighten, but you didn’t fight it - not at first. You let the weight of the water pull you down, let the emptiness consume you.

Everything was dark, impossibly so, swallowing everything in its depths. You couldn’t see, couldn’t feel anything but the cold pressure against your skin and the burning in your chest as your lungs screamed for air. You let yourself sink further, closing your eyes against the suffocating blackness.

And yet, your mind wouldn’t still.

Thoughts came rushing in, unbidden, like a flood breaking through a dam. Every memory, every failure, every moment of doubt and despair surged to the forefront. The weight of it all pressed down on you, heavier than the water, dragging you deeper into the abyss.

You had thought this might be the solution. The way out. An escape from the suffocating spiral of your existence. But as the air in your lungs ran out and your body began to betray you, survival instinct kicking in, you realized there was no escape. Not from the memories, not from the pain, not from yourself.

Your limbs flailed, your arms slicing through the water as you tried to fight against the primal urge to breathe. Your body betrayed you, forcing you to the surface even as your mind screamed to let go, to give in.

Just a little bit.

But it was too late. The water felt thick, heavy, an impossible barrier keeping you from the surface. Your lungs heaved, desperate for air, but all they found was water. Cold, bitter, unrelenting water that filled your chest and drowned your last desperate gasp for life.

The memories came in flashes, fragments of a life that now seemed so far away. The pride in your father’s eyes the first time you mastered your technique. The sound ofm Geto’s gentle laugh on a quiet afternoon. Shoko’s quiet. The way Gojo’s voice had always irritated you, his smirk a constant thorn in your side.

They all felt so distant now, like they belonged to someone else. Someone who wasn’t a failure. Someone who still mattered.

And then there was the weight of the other memories - the shame, the disappointment, the voices of the elders as they condemned you. The coldness in your father’s tone when he told you he’d decide what to do with you. The emptiness that had consumed you in the weeks since.

You felt your body shutting down, your vision darkening as the water enveloped you. Your limbs grew heavy, your mind hazy. The struggle became a distant thing, like a flickering light fading out.

And yet, in those final moments, as the water pulled you under completely, one thought rose above all the others, sharp and unrelenting:

You are a failure.

Gasp.

The world returned to you in gasps and violent coughs, water pouring from your lungs as your chest heaved painfully. Your body felt like it had been ripped apart, the freezing cold of the lake still clinging to your skin, but the sharp sensation of something - someone - holding you brought clarity in a rush.

You blinked against the blurriness in your vision, barely able to make out the figure above you. His white hair was plastered to his forehead, the sharp strands dulled and dripping, and his electric blue eyes were wide, filled with a mix of fury, fear, and something raw. His hands trembled as they held you, but his grip was firm, refusing to let go.

Him.

You coughed again, turning your head as water spilled out of your mouth, your chest burning with each labored breath. Reality slammed into you like a punch: you were on the shore, cold earth pressing against your back, and he was the reason you were still here.

"No." you croaked, the word scraping against your throat like sandpaper. Panic surged through you, body reacting before mind could catch up. You twisted violently, shoving against him with what little strength you had left, trying to escape the strong grasp. You didn’t want to be here. You didn’t want to be saved.

He didn’t let go.

"Stop." he growled, his voice low and strained. It wasn’t the teasing, mocking tone you were used to. This was different. Commanding, almost desperate.

"Let go of me!" you shouted, your voice cracking as you thrashed against him, the fight in you born not of strength but of pure, unrelenting despair "Let me go, Gojo!"

"No." his grip tightened, his hands locking around your wrists as you tried to claw at him. You jerked and struggled, but it was no use. He was stronger, and even without your powers, you were nothing compared to him. The realization hit you like a dagger to the chest, sharp and agonizing. You couldn’t even free yourself. You couldn’t do anything.

"Stop it" he snapped, voice cutting through the chaos as he pinned your wrists to the ground, forcing you still. His weight loomed over you, his breath ragged and uneven as he glared down at you, his eyes burning with an intensity you couldn’t meet.

You froze, your body trembling beneath him, the fight draining out of you as the cold seeped deeper into your bones. The only sounds were the quiet lapping of the lake’s waves and the harsh breaths between you. For a moment, neither of you spoke. His chest rose and fell rapidly, droplets of water sliding down his face, hair wet. His grip on your wrists loosened slightly, though he didn’t let go.

"What are you doing? What the hell were you thinking?" he demanded, his voice rough and low, each word laced with something you couldn’t quite place. Anger? Fear? Pain?

You turned your head away, refusing to meet his gaze "You shouldn’t have stopped me."

His grip tightened again, his fingers trembling as they pressed against your skin "Stop you -" he cut himself off, his jaw clenching tightly as he took a shuddering breath "You’re such an idiot."

You wanted to scream at him, to shove him away, to make him understand that there was nothing left of you worth saving. To let you go and withered. But the words caught in your throat, tangled with the grief, anger and despair that had been building inside you for so long.

"What are you doing here? You've been following me?" your voice sharp despite the hoarseness from the water you’d just coughed up. You glared at him, still pinned beneath his weight, wrists trapped in his hands.

Gojo’s expression flickered between irritation and something you couldn’t quite place - concern? No, that wasn’t possible. He raised an eyebrow, his voice laced with his usual brand of mockery "No. Better -what were you doing here?"

You turned your face away, refusing to answer. The moonlight glinted off the water, its calm surface a contrast to the chaos swirling inside you. You could feel his eyes boring into you, Six Eyes missing nothing.

It didn’t take long for him to piece it together.

His grip on your wrists tightened, just slightly "You should have known better." he said, his tone shifting, lower now, more serious "With all that negative energy bottled up, you could’ve attracted a curse."

You snorted bitterly, the sound harsh and raw "As if I’m not already a curse."

His lips turned into a thin line, glimmering eyes narrowing as he leaned closer "Don’t say stupid things." what you said wasn't stupid, he was stupid for coming here and saving you.

"You are stupid for saving me." the words burst out of you, cracking, unrestrained.

The admission hung in the air, raw and cutting, and you hated how much it revealed. You hated how much he could see now. You felt as if he had caught you on something. Not only at this desperate attempt to avoid your fate, but also at being vulnerable. His face was so close now that you could see every drop of water clinging to his white long lashes, you could also feel the intensity radiating from him like a physical force.

"I told you not to say stupid stuff." he said, his voice low and biting, each word hitting like a hammer "You’re dumb enough as it is."

You wanted him to leave you alone.

You growled in frustration, your movements wild and erratic as you struggled against his grip, you tried to kick him, but to no avail "Let go of me, you asshole!"

"No." his response was immediate, tone resolute.

Can he listen to you for once?

"Fuck you!" you hissed.

"You already did!" he barked, his voice cracking through the tension like lightning.

You froze, the retort you’d been about to throw back dying on your tongue. That was an answer you didn't expected. It made you pause. Well...

Gojo sighed, a sound of exasperation tinged with something softer, something almost like… care "You’re a pain in the ass, you know that?" he muttered "But I’d rather deal with that than lose you."

What?

No, you must have overheard, he would never say such a thing to you.

You would almost believe those softly sparkling eyes, that looked at you in a way that it felt anxious. Well, almost, because you knew exactly who was saying those words to you. You scolded yourself for this in your head.

"Why the hell are you here?" you demanded an answer on dodged question, voice shaking with both anger and something dangerously close to despair "Did you save me because you were afraid you’d lose your favorite object of derision? To mock me? To laugh at how pathetic I’ve become?"

His eyes widened briefly, the accusation catching him off guard, before narrowing again in frustration "Do you seriously think I’d waste my time saving your sorry ass just to mock you?" he shots back "God, you’re so full of yourself sometimes."

"Then why?" you spat "Why did you saved me?"

He didn’t answer, his gaze shifting to the side, avoiding yours entirely. You could see the tension in his jaw. But he still said nothing. As the answer was too much for him to bear. He was about to speak, but he noticed the way you shivered violently, the cold catching you again. The soaked fabric of your clothes still clung to you, and the sharp autumn air made it impossible to stop trembling. Gojo changed his mind.

"I’ll let you go now." his voice lower, less biting "Get dressed - but no stupid actions."

His grip on you eased, and he moved back just enough to give you space, though not far enough to let you out of his reach. He stayed seated on the damp ground, watching your every move with an intensity that made your skin crawl. He didn’t trust you. Not yet.

You listened, you didn't have a choice now.

You crawled toward the pile of clothes, hands shaking so badly that it was difficult to grab anything properly. You stripped off your soaked shirt and pulled on your hoodie in a hurry, not caring whether he saw or not. You were too cold to care about modesty, too angry to care about anything else.

He also got dressed, buttoning up his sweats and putting on his jacket. The silence stretched between you, heavy and suffocating, until his voice broke through.

"Why do you act like a moron?" his words were sharp, almost accusing, but there was something beneath them - a tremor of genuine frustration. Not a trace of his previous gentleness.

You didn’t answer, keeping your focus on zipping up your jacket, your movements jerky and uneven.

He grabbed your arm suddenly, firm but not painful "Oi, answer me!" his voice rose, the intensity of it cutting through the cold air.

You snapped your head up, your eyes blazing as you glared at him "The hell do you want?"

All you wanted now was to escape to a warm room and cry.

His grip on your arm tightened for a moment before loosening slightly, but still there, his expression flickering from serious to worried to confused "Why... why did you want- " he struggled for the words, frowning "Why did you want to end it all? It’s stupid, this logic is idiotic even for you."

You growled.

"What’s dumb is that you don’t understand it." you shot back, your voice sharp, almost venomous. The anger bubbling inside you was the only thing keeping the cold at bay. You wanted to get up, but his grip kept you down.

"The stupid thing is what you’re doing." he countered, his voice rising again "Do you think your death will change anything?"

That was enough for you.

"Great!" you shouted, pulling your arm free of his grip and stepping back, your chest heaving as emotions boiled over "If I’m so fucking worthless, then let me die, for fuck’s sake!"

Shock.

Pure, undeniable shock.

Those vivid blue eyes of his, so infuriatingly piercing, widened. Eyebrows raised, lips parted slightly, as if he were about to speak, but no words came out. It's as if he doesn't believe you just said that. As if he just realised the seriousness of the situation. You saw his chest start to rise faster, not sure if from the cold…. or from panic.

"I don’t want you to -" he started, his voice breaking slightly, even softer than before.

But you crossed your limits.

"You won, okay!?" you cut him off, voice sharp, loud and trembling. The words spilled out of you like a flood, raw, unrestrained "You can rub my face in your victory now! I don’t care anymore! Torment me, mock me, laugh at me - now’s your time!"

His eyes narrowed, confusion clear as his brow furrowed "What?"

"Do it! Now’s the time where you can laugh all you want, insult me all you want - because now, at least, you have a reason!"

"I- " he tried to speak, but you wouldn’t let him.

"Tell me what a failure I am!" you suddenly cried "Tell me how I mean nothing, how all my efforts have gone to waste, how I’m worthless! Because now, at least, I’ll admit you’re right!"

"Stop-" he started, but his words fell flat against the force of your pain.

"Tell me how all your life you knew you were better!" you shouted, hands shaking as you gripped the sleeves of your jakcet "Tell me I’m an idiot, that I’ve always been dumb! Laugh in my face, mock me, just finish me! Say all the things you’ve been thinking, all the things you’ve wanted to say - just say it!"

Your voice broke completely, the words tumbling into a sob "You can finish me..." you choked "Come on. Just… just do it!"

This was to much, you felt so so much.

He was so disoriented. You could see this by his reaction.

"Because I'd believe you'd laugh than suddenly care what happens to me." you chocked.

Silence.

Tears blurred your vision. You were done pretending to have any pride left. You've had enough of everything. You didn't understand his reaction, his sudden tenderness confused you, everything was so wrong. You just wanted to get back to normal, when you - and everything had it's place.

But no, suddenly the world has turned - you don't have your technique, your father will probably disown you, and your rival and bully is suddenly trying to be nice. You don't want to be here anymore. You don't know how to find yourself in this world and you don't know how to talk about it.

It's humiliating to cry in front of him, you know it, but you don't care. You let it all out, just like the water from before.

He just stared at you, eyes wide, jaw tight. You could barely see through the fact that you sobbing next to him, hiding your face and bringing your legs to your chest.

"No." he whispered.

You blinked at him, raising your head, confused "What?"

"No." he repeated, louder this time, his voice firm but trembling "I’m not going to mock you."

You let out a loud bitter laugh, shaking your head "Of course not. Because you don’t even have to, do you? I’ve already done it for you."

"That’s not-" he cut himself off, shortening the distance between you "You’re wrong."

"About what?" your voice breaking again "About being a failure? About being nothing? Tell me what part of that is wrong?"

"All of it." he confirmed, voice steady now, glowing eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your heart clenched "Every single word. You’re not nothing. You’re not a failure. And I swear to God, if you say that again, I’m going to-"

"To what?" you challenged "Save me again? Drag me out of the lake and lecture me about how I should see the bright side of losing everything? Spare me the pity, Gojo. I don’t need it."

"It’s not pity!" his voice ringing loud, showing that emotions were also building up inside him. Unexpectedly, two large hands moved to cup your face, forcing you to look at him, to stare at two glowing blue dots "I’m not here because I pity you. I’m here because-" he faltered, voice catching as his breath hitched, his thumbs brushing against your cold, damp skin "Because I care."

The silence that followed was deafening. You froze, your face dropping as the weight of confession hit you like a tidal wave. He wonders if you know how much it cost him to tell you this directly. You, you wonder if what he says is a joke.

He... what?

His hands stayed on your face, steady despite the way they trembled slightly "I wanted to talk to you." the voice that came out of him was so quiet, so full of affection, that it was almost nothing like his "I started looking for you as soon as I got back from the mission. I wanted to... I don’t know, do something. Anything."

You burst out laughing bitterly, the sound sharp and raw in the stillness. It felt absurd, impossible. Gojo Satoru, your rival, the person you’d been compared to all your entire life, the one who mocked you, humiliated you endlessly, competed with you relentlessly - suddenly was caring about you?

You don’t believe him - because how could you?

For so many years, he had been the same infuriating presence in your life, treating you with an air of superiority and, at times, outright disdain. His words had cut shar, leaving wounds you’d carried silently for years.

There wasn’t a single thing he hadn’t laughed at. Your hair, he’d compared it to the end of a broomstick. Your smile? He’d once called it a donkey’s grin - or whatever the Japanese equivalent it was, delivered with his trademark smirk that made you want to slap it off his face. Your taste in music? "Cheesy pop thrash" And your clothes? Oh, that was his favorite target "Are you dressing ironically?" he’d asked once, tilting his head with mock curiosity "Or is this a social experiment I missed?" It didn’t stop there. He even mocked the way you walked once, calling it "Too stiff, like you’re auditioning for a role as a wooden puppet"., the way you ate "You attack food like it owes you money." and even the way you carried your books "Why are you holding them like that?" he’d said, mimicking your grip dramatically "You're so weak that you can't hold them properly?"

So yeah, it was laughable.

He may have saved you and you may want to believe in what he says, but you are just not able to.

Can you really blame yourself?

Well, kinda, because you were the one making out with him every other day. You might have believed that he liked your attention, that he might have wanted you - but you wouldn't believe that he wanted to care about you.

You reached up and pulled his hands off your face, your cold fingers brushing against his quite warm ones "Don't give me that. What could you supposedly do?" you asked, voice dripping with disbelief and mockery. The cold seeping back into your body now that his touch was gone

"Anything." he said, his words still tumbling out, almost frantic "Talk, sit with you, I don’t know - something. I- " he stopped, his own frustration bleeding into his voice "I don’t know." his eyes were so pleading.

You wrapped your arms around yourself, trying to stop the tremors as you looked away "Don't bother." voice low, void of fight "Doesn't matter now. My father is picking me up tomorrow."

His eyes widened slightly, but he didn’t interrupt.

"I have heard too many versions, all from different people, of what my father supposedly planned that - that I don't know..." you paused, the lump in your throat growing unbearable as you forced yourself to say these words.

You wanted to say that you were afraid, that you didn't know what to do, that you felt you had let everyone down, that nothing made sense to you now.

That it was too much.

That you didn't allowed yourself any form of comfort.

"I know one thing, though." you hesitated, the weight of your next words heavy, but you looked up, meeting his gaze with trembling resolve "I’d rather die now, than live my life as a clan failure."

He growled, frustrated, as if nothing is working on his favour. As if he was breaking.

"Who cares what the clan thinks? Who cares about anything they say?" Gojo’s voice rising, desperate and insistent, his words coming faster now, blabbering "They’re a bunch of old fools who don’t know what they’re talking about! You are more than their expectations. You are more than your technique. You are - "

Maybe he wanted to comfort you that way or maybe he wanted you to believe his tale of him 'caring about you'.

But you had already made up your mind.

Gojo knew that you might not believe him in what he was saying now, he knew, that you would be angry with him for all that he has done- you were right - you should be. What he didn't predict, however, was that you would know him well enough to know this one hidden truth about him.

What you say now will leave a mark on him for years. You frowned, voice totaly sure of the words you're saying.

"Don’t preach to me about things you don’t even believe yourself."

You hadn’t spoken since that night by the lake.

Not when you were picked up, your father’s silence mirroring your own as you sat stiffly beside him, staring out the car's window. Not when he informed you of your new path with the cold efficiency of a man making a business transaction.

Your age wasn't very favourable for this, admittedly - you should have started your training as a maiko a long time ago, wanting to become a geiko. However, your father, using his connections, found a place that will accept you for training. He found an okiya in Kanazawa that from now on - will be your temporary home.

You didn’t fight him. You didn’t speak at all. You have done enough.

The years that followed were grueling in their own way, though nothing compared to what you’d endured before.

Training as a maiko demanded a different kind of perfection, a complete transformation of body and mind. The disciplined, precise movements of martial arts you had once mastered - were now replaced by the elegant, deliberate grace of traditional dance. Every step, every turn, every motion had to flow with effortless beauty, concealing the pain and time it took to perfect them.

You hated every second of it.

Your figure changed over time, slimming down in ways you hadn’t anticipated and curving in a few other places. You "got smaller", your once powerful frame softening into something more delicate, more feminine. Your reflection in the mirror became even stranger - a porcelain doll painted and adorned to please others. Gone were the rugged hands that once wielded cursed tools, now they held fans, makeup brushes, creating beauty where you once brought destruction.

The contrast was unbearable.

You missed the fight, the passion, the adrenaline, the raw exhilaration of your old life. Sometimes, as you trained with the fan, your body betrayed your mind, instinctively slipping into the stances meant for a sword. For your lost technique.

Every day felt like a reminder, a performance, not just for others but for yourself, as if pretending long enough might make you forget what you had lost.

But it didn't.

You never completely left your old self behind; the memory of that person remained vivid, etched into your mind. Recalling the past -missions, getaways, trainings, fleeting moments of triumph and connection - became a daily ritual. Nostalgia and grief intertwined, two of many companions that you had learned to live with, their weight both comforting and unbearable.

Despite it all, he kept reaching out to you.

Gojo’s messages came daily at first, long, rambling texts filled with details of his day - missions, strange encounters, little jokes he’d picked up along the way. He sent pictures of things he thought might make you laugh: a badly drawn doodle of you scowling, a ridiculous meme, a cursed object that looked suspiciously like a poorly designed toy. Each message carried a tone of casual insistence, as though he were trying to prove his point - that he cared. Or perhaps he was trying to reshape your relationship, to turn you from the rival he mocked constantly into something else, maybe - a friend.

Eventually, the messages slowed. Whether it was his own frustration, the demands of his life, or something else entirely, you didn’t know. You didn’t care to know. Cutting yourself off from him, from everyone, was the only way you knew how to endure.

At some point, you stopped reading them altogether. The weight of shame pressed down on your chest, suffocating any inclination to respond. You couldn’t face him - or anyone from your past. The person they knew was gone, and what remained of you was too broken, too hollow, to withstand their judgment or pity.

Your thoughts spiraled endlessly, dragging you deeper into a pit of self-doubt. You convinced yourself that no one could possibly care for who you were now - powerless, dull, and unremarkable. What was left of you wasn’t worth saving, and surely, he had to see that too. Eventually, you were certain, he would stop trying. And that thought, as much as it pained you, felt like the only mercy left.

Sometimes, you’d catch yourself hovering over his messages, tempted to open them. The thought of catching a glimpse of the snippets of his life - once so intertwined with yours - felt like a small, guilty comfort.

But no, you didn't do it.

Years just passed, and the day of your Kurokami, the ceremonial debut marking your transition to full-fledged geiko, arrived. Your father had spared no effort, inviting everyone of importance - every known clan in the jujutsu world, their representatives gathered on the sprawling estate for a grand celebration steeped in tradition and political maneuvering.

It wasn’t about you. It was never about you.

This was a spectacle, a carefully orchestrated display of your father’s influence and connections. Each guest, each detail, was part of a greater plan to cement alliances and further his ambitions. You were just another piece of that plan, an accessory to his power.

The highlight of the evening was the final dance of a maiko, the moment of transition - a symbol of beauty and accomplishment in its purest form. But it wasn’t your dance. It wasn’t you, his daughter, he didn't even introduce you.

No, you were just a dancer now.

You entered the stage in silence, your heart slowing as the soft glow of the spotlight bathed you in its warmth. The muted chatter of the crowd faded into an expectant hush, the weight of hundreds of gazes pressing down on you. The air felt thick, heavy with the unspoken demands of the evening. The elaborate kimono you wore seemed to amplify that weight, its intricate embroidery shimmering under the light. Each layer of fabric, from the trailing hikizuri hem to the opulent obi tied with meticulous care, felt like a chain binding you to the role you were expected to fulfill.

The role that you didn't like.

The adornments on your hair - a delicate array of golden combs and jade pins - added to the strain, each piece glinting like a reminder of the perfection demanded of you. Even the subtle fragrance of incense clinging to your garments seemed to emphasize your place in this performance: a symbol, a display, but never a person.

Your movements, however, betrayed none of your inner turmoil. You moved with the fluidity that had been drilled into you for years, every step and turn perfectly calculated. The soft clack of your lacquered sandals against the polished wood echoed through the room, a rhythm as precise as the dance itself. Each motion was a testament to your training, your arms flowing gracefully as though carried by the air.

And then you saw him.

He’d changed. A lot. The years had shaped him into someone sharper, more refined, though the essence of him - remained unmistakable. His snow-white hair was still its signature mess, but it seemed more intentional now, as though he’d taken the time to style it. The glasses he wore were different, darker and sleeker, framing his face in a way that gave him an air of maturity you weren’t prepared for. Somehow, impossibly, he seemed even taller.

Even more handsome.

You couldn’t remember every detail of his face - time had eroded those memories - but some things stayed vivid. You remembered his hands cupping your face that night by the lake, trembling and warm despite the chill. You remembered the look in his eyes, desperate, as if trying to hold onto something slipping through his grasp. Those moments had etched themselves into your mind in ways you hadn’t dared to revisit.

Is it bad that you missed seeing him?

At first, his expression was unreadable, his lips slightly parted as though he’d been caught mid-thought. His usual cocky smirk, the one you had come to know and despise - was nowhere to be seen. Instead, there was a stunned stillness to him, an uncharacteristic vulnerability that made your chest tighten. Those piercing blue eyes, always so vivid, widened as they traced your figure.

You could see the faint flicker of recognition in them, the way his gaze darted across you as if trying to reconcile the person before him with the one he had known.

You couldn’t glance at him as much as you wanted to, though the urge tugged at you with every turn, every delicate gesture. The temptation was a steady hum beneath your practiced composure, but you ignored it.

Whatever he felt, whatever you felt, didn’t matter. Not here. Not now.

It was the longest performance you've ever done.

When your it ended, the room erupted into applause, a symphony of polite enthusiasm filling the grand space. Guests turned to your father, their compliments flowing freely, every word dripping with veiled flattery.

"What a remarkable performance, truly exquisite." one elder said, nodding with approval. He said this loud enough that you could hear him.

"Master, your planning is unmatched." said another, their tone measured and calculated "A brilliant highlight for the evening."

But not him.

He didn’t join the chorus of praise. He didn’t clap. He didn’t say a word. He just sat there, silent, his piercing blue eyes fixed on you with an intensity that felt like it might swallow you whole. The weight of his gaze burned hotter than any ovation, lingering on you as though he were trying to reach across the distance, trying to say something without words. Maybe something like - look at me again.

You didn’t dare to do this again, too afraid to face him, to face the reality of all you’d ignored: the messages you’d left unread, his attempts to connect with you, his clumsy, awkward texts filled with jokes and small glimpses of his life. You couldn’t bear the thought of the weight in his gaze reflecting those unanswered words, those years of silence between you.

Instead, you kept your head high, your back straight, your movements precise as you exited the stage. You didn’t need to see his face to feel his disappointment - or his persistence. It lingered in the air, following you even as you stepped out of the light.

© noira-l | all rights reserved. do not copy, translate, modify, or redistirbute my work without permission

[kurokawaia]

DAY TWENTY THREE - BABY TRAPPING 彡 Aizen Sosuke

WARNINGS :: x fem reader, afab, yandere, coercion, manipulation, baby trapping, no protection, missionary, fingering, cervix kissing, NC cumming inside, + more

| WC :: 2.8k+ | MDNI | 18+ | kinkmas m.list

You knew about Aizen, what he wanted to achieve-you were the only person he had told apart from three others. You were going to go ahead and help him make this dream a reality. To be in the company of Aizen was to be with a God-the level of control he had, it scared you, couldn't tell if you felt safe too. He's always there to protect you, keeps you hidden away so you can't get hurt. Still, something has always been a bit off about him; you noticed it, how his eyes would follow your every move, every breath. It started innocently enough with Aizen as a perfect gentleman, never forcing and yet giving you just enough space to feel independent. Subtle changes began to happen over time. "Are you going out again?" Aizen's voice came out soft, he is masking his disapproval, he's waiting for the right moment to force you to stay with him. You lifted your gaze from the mirror in front of you and finished styling out your hair. "Just for a little while. Soon I will be back." His eyes stayed on you a moment, his smile false as he stared at you. "I worry about you," he said, moving in behind you and setting his hands on your shoulders before trailing off down to your hands. "The world is a dangerous place, and I'm not always going to be here to protect you. You're only a healer, you can't do much, my love." Comforting, even, his words were sweet. You think. A lump, tense feeling began to grow in your stomach but you laughed it off, brushing his hands with a soft touch. "I'll be fine, Sosuke! I can take care of myself." But the seed had been sown. Over weeks, he came further into your life, and what you used to decide for yourself would, it seemed henceforth, have first to pass through him. And he keeps reminding you so often with a soft chuckle that he wants nothing but the best for you. "You know, you need to take more rest," Aizen said to you one night while doing reports. He leaned over you with his hand tucked in the back of your nemaki, drawing circles, almost to sooth you. "All this stress isn't good for your health." You faltered, words caught in your throat. "I need to finish this." "You don't," he returned smoothly. His fingers closed over your shoulder, tightening just a fraction. "What you need is to unwind. I don't like seeing you overexerting yourself." Before he could object further, he leaned forward and rolled the scroll shut before taking it in his hands. "I'll take care of everything," he whispered. "Just trust me." At first, it was very easy to confuse his overprotectiveness with care. He was attentive, loving in his own peculiar way. Before long, the control started to become more evident with each passing day. 

He never raised his voice nor did he yell. He didn't have to. His words had been enough to lead you to wherever he wanted you to go. And they were so gradual besides, too slight, almost imperceptible. He started taking you away from your friends, from your captain, your lieutenant, subtly making you feel they were not people you should trust. "They don't understand you the way I do," he'd say stroking your hair as you lay in his arms. "They'll only hold you back." And when you fell, he'd lift your chin so it faced his eyes, the skin of your forehead grazing his lips in a feather-soft touch. "I only want what's best for you." You had begun to lean on him, questioning your choices, and if indeed you really knew what was best for you. Then you went to Aizen to see if it was okay-the things you were doing. Aizen had this way of speaking, as though he was the only one who knew you. Lying beside him in bed, as night fell, you said what was pent up inside your mind, "Aizen, am I the only one who thinks this all went a bit too fast? I feel like... I'm losing myself." His response was immediate. "You aren't losing yourself, my love, you're finding who you're really supposed to be. With me, you don't have to worry about a thing. Always, I will take care of you," he says with a softness, but his words are like honey. Still, with those words somehow, it sent shivers down your spine. That was when the future conversations started, light at first, talks about what life could be if you stayed together. A house, peaceful life, children. "You'd make a great mother," he said one afternoon as his eyes latched onto yours. "Can't you imagine building a life with me?" Your heart had skipped a beat, but there was a growing discomfort. "Perhaps someday, but I don't know if I'm ready for that as yet." Aizen didn't press the issue then, but the subject kept coming up. He'd casually touch your belly, remark on how ideal it would be to have a family, how complete your bond would be if you were tied together in every possible way. "It's natural to be wary," Aizen told you one evening while you sat before the fireplace. His hand lay limply on your thigh, his thumb tracing soft patterns. "But do think about it. A child would only strengthen our love. We'd be forever bound." You laughed a little nervously and brushed the suggestion aside. "That's a big step, Aizen. I'm just not sure I'm ready." He smiled gently, his eyes concealing something, something that you don't notice. "You will see, in time, it is the best thing that can happen to us." You didn't know that in his mind, a decision was already made.

Aizen and you have had sex multiple times, so it isn't a rare occurrence for the two of you to have sex at least once a day, at the least, it would be once every two days. But, Aizen makes sure to leave you every night, making sure that you are so fucked out due to pleasure that you forget to notice particular things. 

Specifically, something that is about to happen tonight. 

Your arms are pinned above your head, as Aizen's fingers experimentally push past your slick folds, his fingers pressing past your clit, and a surge of pleasure courses through you, leaving you breathless and desperate for more.

 A moan left your mouth as your back arched to his touch. Your reaction made Aizen press down slightly more, and your legs squeezed around his waist, moans stringing out your mouth.

You felt his fingers slide down, and he found your seeping hols drenched with arousal. A finger slowly slid inside your heat, a whimper leaving your mouth. "Does this feel good?" Aizen asked, and you nodded frantically.

"F-Fuck... feels so good, Sosuke," you whimpered as he started to slowly pump in and out your soaked walls.

"Really?" He asked and you moaned as he inserted another finger into your walls.

Overwhelming, a perfect mix of pleasure and intensity, it leaves you unable to hold back your moans. You lean your lips against his shoulder, muffling those sounds that burst from deep inside you. His fingers delve deep inside your core, firing a flame that engulfs every thought. Every movement, every curl sends shockwaves of pleasure across your body.

You let go and surrender to his intoxicating rhythm of touches. The junction of his skilled fingers with the intensity of our connection cossets you closer to the edge and teetering on the precipice of release. It was just a pure moment of bliss, where time seemed to stand still, filled completely with an overwhelming pleasure that coursed through the veins.

With Aizen's fingers pumping in and out of your seeping hole relentlessly, there was a familiar tightness growing in your lower abdomen, and pleasure that had tightened inside your stomach. You wrap your shaking legs around him, trying to hold on to him as the pleasure overflows. Anticipation ripples your body, reacting to every single one of his touches and movements.

You chant his name into his neck as praises leave your mouth, your voice filled with desire and need. The tears welling in your eyes are not from pain but from the overwhelming pleasure that threatens to consume you whole.

At your pleading, sucks the skin around your neck once more, groaning against your neck, his voice husky with desire. His thumb starts pressing your clit with its fleshy pad, another layer added onto the sensations that are already so intense. The touch is electrifying, your back arches in response.

"Please, Sosuke," you sob. "I need to..."

"Let your body take over for you, you want this and I've got you," Aizen reassured, intertwining your mouths together, his mouth swallowing the moans that slipped out your mouth.

Waves of ecstasy wash over you, leaving your legs trembling and weak from the intensity of the sensations. He slips his fingers from your hole and you continue to tremble from the aftermath of the orgasm. You managed to release myself from Aizen's neck and move away from his hold.

"Feeling alright?" Aizen asks cupping my cheeks.

"...yeah..." you breath out slowly while looking into his eyes. Aizen makes you feel so good, all the time, always focusing n your own pleasure, it's like he's trying to win you over for something, to distract you from something-

"There is more coming," Aizen said slowly, his brown eyes piercing into your own and they widened.

"More?" you tease, "What possibly could you give me more of?"

"So much, my love," Aizen hums. "Just let yourself loose, don't focus on anything, just on the pleasure I will give."

He delicately bites the shell of your ear making you let out a quiet whimper. you could feel him smile against your ear at your reaction. Aizen's touch caused you to dig your nails slightly into his chest leaving light crescent marks causing more deep exhales of breaths to get caught in your ear.

Aizen moved his head and his body suddenly firmly pressed against yours and you whimpered at the feeling of his dick pressing up agasint your stomach. His lips mingled with yours his minty taste and smell overflowed your senses making it a complete euphoria for you. you cupped the back of his neck to create a deeper angle for him to go explore deeper into your mouth with our tongues continuing to entangle with each other.

Aizen groans into your mouth, the hand that was trailing down your thigh moved swiftly back to your waist and the other intertwined with your hair at the base of your neck, pulling you closer to him. you let out breathy sighs into him as your own hand interlaced with his chocolte and your other wrapped around behind his neck.

His other hand moved its way down to tightly lift your thigh up which made his body mould closer to mine making you feel his dick press up against your soaked core. The kiss slows down and turns soft and almost desperate it's as if he wants to take his time with you, savouring every inch of your taste, to take his sweet time to memorise you.

"Look at you," he teases. "Trembling under my touch."

Aizen pants against your lips and you didn't have time to reply as he pressed them against you once more. "Please," I whimper out.

"Hmm?"

"I want you...." you mumble. "Stop teasing me."

Aizen kissing your forehead like you were a child who listened to their parent. "Good girl."

He presses his lips against mine to take your mind off. you feel a hard tip get lubricated at your entrance making your back arch into him as you let out a strangled moan of pleasure into his mouth. He continues to push further into you making your eyebrows furrow together in pain but the pleasure is still overwhelming your senses making tears prick at your eyes.

"Oh, you feel so good," Aizen whimpers into your neck. "You're so perfect."

You moan. The feeling of pure ecstasy of him fully entered you, the pain gone.

You feel his dick scraping across your plush walls in all the right places as he slowly exited your cunt, but not fully. Your moans and whimpers get swallowed by each other. you feel his thrusts speed up and you moan in response, your walls clenching around him causing the grip Aizen held on your thigh and waist to tighten.

The coil in your stomach getting tighter and your moans slightly became higher. Aizen continued to groan into your neck after he pulled away from the heated kiss.

"You make- me feel so goo- d," you say moaning throughout your sentence, "Feels so good-" you felt the coil in your stomach snap as your back arched painfully into Aizen's bare chest causing Aizen to groan and his arms moved to wrap tightly around you.

You arched your back heavily, able at last to sink further into his embrace. Aizen leaned over, drawing you near to him and initiating a messy, moist kiss, pushing his tongue into your mouth, letting out grunts as he absorbed your sounds of pleasure. 

Effectively distracting you as he cums half in your cunt and the rest all over your stomach. He mimics that he's pulled out when in reality, he's got you filled with his seed, ready for you to bare his child.

-------------------------------------------------

 Aizen watched you from his chair.. "You're shaking, dear. What's going through your mind?" His voice was smooth, treacherous in a way that completely made it impossible for you to feel anything but relaxed and on edge all at once.

"I-I just don't understand...," you stammered, your hand falling to rest on your stomach, that for the last couple of weeks had started to show the signs of the life growing inside you. "How could this have happened? We were careful..."

Aizen chuckled low in his throat. "Oh, my love. Did you truly think I would leave something so important to chance? This was always a part of the plan."

You froze, your mind racing. "Wha... what do you mean?"

He stood, moving towards you with the grace of a predator stalking his prey. His hand cupped your cheek as he leaned down to whisper in your ear, "I made it happen. I want you bound to me in every way possible. You're mine now-mind, body, and soul."

It swept over you, you realise everything now. Every sweet word, every tender touch, was all an act to trap you. And in one swell, tears began to well within your eyes, but a gentle smiling Aizen wiped them away.

"There is no reason to cry, dear, this is for the best. Now you shall never leave me. You shall carry my child, and we will be bound together, forever." His lips pressed against your forehead. Your breath hitched as his hand slipped into your stomach. How had you not seen this all along? All those nights he had held you close, whispering sweet promises to your ear-all part of his carefully designed trap. He straightened, watching your. "You're too precious to let slip away. You see that, don't you?" His fingers brushed your skin. "You planned this," I whispered, more for my benefit than his. "You wanted this all along..."

Aizen smiled. "Of course. You really didn't think I'd leave a thing like that to chance, did you? I have always had a vision for us-a future wherein you would be mine-completely." You took another step backward, feeling the beating of your heart within your chest, but there was nowhere to go. "What if I don't want it?" you whispered almost soundlessly. "You are emotional now. Understandably so. But time will let you see this as precisely what you need." His voice was coaxing, speaking as he would to a frightened child. You shook your head, fighting down the panic rising into your throat. "I don't want to be trapped like this, Aizen. You can't just take away my choices." Aizen's hand rose to your chin, the pad of his thumb tipping your face upwards, forcing you to meet his gaze. "Oh my love, I have not taken anything from you. I've simply... ensured that we shall never again be parted. Is it not what you wanted, deep down?" "I... I don't know," you said, voice shaking. "Shhh," Aizen cooed, pressing a strand of hair behind your ear. "You are overwhelmed now. But in time, you shall see: our child will bind us together, and you shall understand that was the only way. You shall thank me for protecting our future. "Why?" one finally asked, barely above a whisper. "Why go to such an extent? Aizen's smile pulled taut over his lips, never quite reaching his eyes. "Because I love you. And when I love someone, I make sure they can never leave me." Aizen leaned down until his lips brushed against your ear. "There's no escape, my dear. Not now, not ever."

Do not steal, copy, modify, translate or use for ai Reblogs only!

tag list :: @love-eien @enouche @dreaddful @z8riah

@yanakurokawaaa @princesstiti14 @bontensbabygirl @mitsuyas-version

@kxrfie @clobiss @helenaxh @Tvbox_098 @fullwriterpoemp

[marcyvamp1re-blog]

ৎ୭. . . REVENANT ─── Bruce Wayne & Batfamily

Silly Little Bat

⊹ ٬  Headcanon. In a dark mansion, a broken doll becomes the reflection of a man who has lost everything. Bruce Wayne, trapped in his pain, embraces it as a substitute for the irretrievable, while his family watches in horror and desperation. The line between obsession and sanity blurs, and the war for the truth erupts, each word cutting deeper.

⊹ ٬  Word Count.  2,18k

⊹ ٬  Content. MDNI. Dark themes, violence/death, blood, family war, trauma, invasion of privacy, kidnapping (of a doll), Angst, disturbing content, corruption, isolation, paranoia, manipulation, emotional abuse, family conflict, abuse of power, emotional manipulation.

「 a person who has returned,

especially supposedly from the dead. 」

When the doll appeared, no one knew where it had come from. It was in an elaborate package, an impeccable wrapping, with a bow that seemed intended to disguise the horror it contained. The note, written in a handwriting that seemed familiar, read: “For Bruce Wayne.”

Alfred was the first to notice the package. He didn’t want to touch it, but in the end, he did. What else could he do? When he opened it, the expression on his face changed from curiosity to a mix of confusion and dread. He couldn’t help but let out a breath, his gaze fixed on the contents.

“What’s wrong, Alfred? Is it something about Y/N?” Bruce asked, a trace of hope still lingering in his voice.

But as Bruce approached, that hope vanished as quickly as it had come. What he saw before him was more terrifying than any monster he could have imagined.

It was her. Or rather, the cruelest version of what she had been. A doll so identical to Y/N that it seemed as if life itself had been condensed into a piece of plastic, fabric, and hair. The same clothes she had worn on her first arrival at the mansion. Her disheveled hair, as if the chaos of those difficult days had become embedded in her locks. But above all, that empty look, of abandonment, of desolation, as if the only thing left of Y/N was her shadow, trapped in that object.

It was an echo of tragedy, a cruel caricature of that moment when he lost his parents. A macabre mockery.

Bruce’s throat tightened, but he didn’t allow his face to soften. He stood frozen, staring at her, until his body succumbed to a spiral he couldn’t control. Memories assaulted him mercilessly. The dark street. The shadows that enveloped him as his parents fell, helpless to do anything. The violence of that moment, the anguish that still dragged him down, the pain that never left.

Bruce slumped in his chair in the Batcave, turning his face away so Alfred wouldn’t see him. His chest heaved, and with trembling hands, he embraced the doll. He squeezed it desperately, as if it were the only link he had left to the past, to her, to the girl he had once been. He held it as if he could, for an instant, relive those days when everything seemed to make sense.

He cried silently. Tears fell like an invisible river, but the sound that accompanied his weeping was the same as that of a broken city. And so, for a second, he felt like a child again.

Alfred, with a dull expression, left quietly, but he saw it. He saw how that doll was the last drop that spilled Bruce Wayne's sanity.

What Alfred couldn’t foresee, what he couldn’t even imagine, was what happened the next day. When he entered the dining room, while setting the table with the usual routine, he saw Bruce. It was not the upright posture of a man facing the day, but that of someone who had fallen into an invisible trap. With a disturbing stillness, Bruce placed one more plate on the table. A plate that didn’t fit, that didn’t belong in the place it was meant to be. Next to his place, he set it down. The doll.

The butler observed in silence, unsure if what he saw was a macabre joke or the manifest pain of a broken man. The doll was now dressed in clean clothes, her hair neatly arranged with a meticulous care that could only have come from the hand of someone who had too much time to think, too much time to feel. He doubted Bruce was the one who had arranged it, but in the end, he was the only one who knew of its existence. The only one who knew that emptiness.

When the kids arrived, their gazes fell upon the doll. There weren’t many words, just murmurs in low voices, comments under their breaths, attempts to ignore it. But there was something in the atmosphere, a tension that filled it with a presence that refused to be silenced. Everyone, except Damian.

When the little one entered the room, he saw it, and his eyes widened. His gaze didn’t reflect confusion, but pure disdain. As if something in his mind had exploded, as if that scene had become the manifestation of everything he didn’t understand, everything that terrified him.

“What the hell is that thing?” he roared with venom, his voice piercing like a sharp dagger. He looked at his father, then at everyone else at the table with an indomitable fury. “Who was the jokester who dared to make that stupid replica of my sister?”

The air tensed, and time seemed to stand still for a second. Damian's rage was like thunder, but no one was willing to respond. There were no words. However, Bruce's response came as a deadly whisper, cold and definitive, an answer that was for no one but himself, for that abyss within his soul that had always swallowed his fears.

“It’s not a thing,” he said, his voice tinged with an unsettling calm, a calm that froze everything around him. “It’s Y/N. And sit down and shut up. She’s bothered by loud noises.”

The room fell into an absolute silence. No more words. No attempts to contradict him. The others didn’t dare to breathe, as if the air itself could ignite and consume them. Everyone looked down, unable to face the truth hidden in the delicately dressed figure, a figure that represented more than just a toy. It was a reflection of Bruce's desperation, a reminder of the deep cracks that had never healed.

The glass of milk that Bruce poured with a too-calculated precision on the table was not just for the doll. It was an offering. An attempt to feed what could no longer be nourished. The mansion, so big and empty, felt even lonelier in that moment, like a labyrinth with no exit. The anxiety that hung in the air was not just from those present. Bruce was trapped in his own cycle of pain. And the doll, the damned doll, was the only one who understood him.

The others, though silent, understood: the thread that held Bruce wasn't visible, but it was on the verge of breaking.

Days slipped by like shadows, each dragging with it a sense of unease and growing anxiety. The doll was no longer a novelty. It had become just another presence in Wayne Manor, as if it had been there all along, as if its existence was natural. Wherever Bruce went, she was there. In the office, in the Batcave, her small figure sat there, still, with the unsettling perfection of someone who could not move on her own. Though her face held no expression, the doll “played” like a lost child in a world she didn’t understand, simulating a normality that didn’t exist.

During breakfasts, snacks, and dinners, the doll occupied a special place next to Bruce. Her glass of milk, always empty, always vacant. The milk slid down her plastic lips, like a routine, as if it were a ritual that could not be interrupted. Sometimes, Bruce tucked her in to sleep, his trembling hands as he draped the blanket over her. The gesture was strange, almost paternal, but beneath that apparent calm, his mind was a whirlwind.

At first, he thought it would all end there. Bruce and the doll, a tacit agreement between them. The others would search for the real Y/N, the one who should be out there, lost, missing. But, as always in his life, things were never simple, never stayed in place.

It was a gray morning, one in which Bruce couldn’t help but feel trapped in the same cycle of anguish. As every day, the doll was at the table, by his side, with her glass of milk, but something was wrong. Alfred, upon entering the living room, was the first to notice it. A sound, a fragility, as if everything that had been built around the doll had shattered.

When he saw it, his heart stopped for a second. The doll was broken. Her porcelain body was cracked, her hair disheveled, her face a distorted grimace that it had never had before. And there it was, in the middle of the living room, like a brutal reminder of what was happening, of what Bruce had created.

The air cut sharply. A deadly tension spread through the house, as if a bomb was about to explode. Bruce, upon seeing the doll, said nothing. His breathing became heavy, his eyes fixated on the doll's cracks, as if that fracture were a reflection of his own broken self. Something inside him crumbled.

And then, the war began. It was not a war of weapons, nor of blows. It was a psychological war, a war of unresolved emotions and guilt. The members of the Wayne family, those who knew him better than anyone, began to speak. The words crossed, like daggers thrown mercilessly.

“What the hell have you done, Bruce?” Dick said, his voice tense, marked by a mix of fury and concern. “You’re losing control.”

Damian, with disdain in his eyes, looked at the broken doll. “Do you think you can replace Y/N with this? With that?” His voice was cold, cutting. “It’s just a piece of plastic."

Barbara, on the other hand, remained silent, but her eyes spoke more than a thousand words. She knew what was happening, saw the imminent collapse in Bruce. No one dared to say it out loud, but they all knew: Bruce was not just searching for Y/N. He was searching for a way to save himself.

“It’s just a doll!” Tim shouted, the rage evident in his tone. “It’s not going to bring her back!”

But Bruce, with his gaze lost on the broken doll, couldn’t hear. His mind, tormented by guilt, pain, and anxiety, couldn’t process any more. “She’s here,” he murmured, almost like a prayer. “She’s here with me. She’s always been here.”

And Bruce broke.

The war was not about the doll. It was about the pain, about the inability to accept the irreparable. Bruce was fighting against his own demons, a battle that no one could win. The doll, in its broken state, was just a reflection of the fractures that already existed within him. And now, they were all trapped in the same spiral, in the same darkness that he had created

Note ───── This story came to me as an anonymous request, something unexpected but incredibly interesting. I had never heard of such dolls before, but there's something unsettling about the idea that an inanimate object could carry so much emotional weight. As I wrote, I couldn't help but imagine Bruce at his most fragile, holding that doll as if it were all that remained of his humanity.

And honestly, I was more than sure that Bruce would crucify the Batkids for what they did to the doll, especially Damian. He was the one who, in some way, broke it, an act that would only multiply Bruce's guilt. The Batkids would surely never forget that day.

[cutehoons02]

I fell in love with a golden retriever vampire...

*pairing: Idol vampire Jake x Enhypen human stylist

*trope: grumpy x sunshine

*synopsis: In an alternative future, vampires and humans live together peacefully thanks to a treaty that regulates their relations. Jake is a member of the Enhypen one of the most famous groups in the world and thousands of fans are fascinated by his being a vampire but at the same time representing the most human part and golden retriever of the group, in a moment full of successes of the career of Enhypen appears in the life of Jake his new stylist. They couldn’t be more different than this: Jake is a vampire instead she is a human, Jake is a puppy in vampire format instead she thinks only of her work and is a little bit haughty and snobby, Jake loves fun and is a womanizer instead she is cynical about him and the charm of Jake does not perceive it as a beautiful thing but as a distraction. What will happen when Jake’s powers with his favorite stylist don’t work? And why is she the only one not to fall for his vampire charms…

*tags: A lot of humor, teased, jealousy, possession, Jake is a bit of a pervert, loves to touch and annoy his stylist, scenes where Jake bites his stylist, blood, unprotected sex (don't horny ppl), oral sex, fingering, a little degradation, multiple spicy scenes (pubblic), pet names (Good girl, baby) (Jackie,Golden retriever)+ 16, angst.

10k (🧛)

(English is not my native language)

In an alternative future, vampires and humans live together peacefully thanks to a treaty that regulates their relations. Vampires are known for their unnatural beauty and superhuman abilities, which makes them highly sought after in the world of entertainment, fashion, and entertainment, especially in the world of Idols, Vampires are rarely tired and need a few hours of sleep so they are perfect for the endless hours of dance training, various events that make as models or even actors. However, despite the peaceful coexistence, there is still a subtle mutual prejudice between the two species, there is a peace treaty but things do not always go well for humans when they meet on their way vampires who have not accepted the rules of the treaty imposed by the magical world and that of the humans.

Jake, one of the members of Enhypen, is a vampire with a special power: emotional manipulation through touch. It can calm, confuse, or intensify a person’s feelings with a simple touch, an ability that makes him useful on stage but makes him appear a little weaker than others in routine everyday situations.

All 7 members have powers: Heeseung the oldest member of the group has the power of vocal hypnotism. He is the calmest and most rational person in the group, and he is often the peacemaker between Jake and the designer.

Jay can hypnotize people, controlling their minds, emotions, and thoughts with his gaze. This allows him to manipulate the actions of others and influence their thoughts. However, his power is limited when he is not emotionally balanced if he lets himself be overwhelmed by his darkest desires, or if he stands beside sensitive people.

Sunghoon has the power of super speed and is the "prince" of the group, with an elegant but competitive air.

Sunoo is empathic and can capture any emotion or tension with his natural aura, he can perceive the emotions of others without the need for physical contact. He is the first to notice the tension between Jake and the designer.

Jungwon is the first of the group to be able to transform into a bat and fly. He can also move objects with his mind. Its flying power makes it super fast, but it requires a lot of energy and can be affected by weather conditions.

Finally, we have Ni-Ki the smallest of the group has the power of mimetism (can make itself invisible for long periods). He is the most lively of the group and enjoys teasing Jake.

The studio is a chaotic mix of lights, and clothes hanging mono color with red references to remind that the Enhypen were vampires and they fed mostly blood and staff ran everywhere to prepare members for their next shooting with a well-known brand of Italian high-rise clothing. For Y/n the new designer, It was her first day and she had been waiting for a long time after finishing her studies in fashion design to work for a fashion house or to be someone’s stylist when they accepted her for a year-paid trial she felt like, she was on top of the world. Y/n she could seem reserved, a little cynical, and maybe haughty but had struggled with herself to pay for her studies and learn everything there was to know about high fashion. Y/n found himself arranging a rack of perfectly ironed leather jackets and shirts. It’s the first day with the group, and his goal is simple: do his job perfectly, show the department boss that she is good, and go away without a hitch, But she doesn't know that soon a vampire in the guise of golden retrievers would be upset all her life and all its uncertainties. Jake walked backstage like a thunderbolt, with an aura that can’t go unnoticed: bright smile, relaxed posture, eyes that seemed to sparkle with pure charm wearing fake nerd glasses, and his artificial golden hair that gave him that aura even more as a non-human person. He observed the staff, 90% of the human people whom he had known well for 4 years now, but his eyes immediately turned to her, the girl with curly copper-colored hair who was putting their jackets away. He suddenly stopped to observe her, not that it was unusual for Jake to stop and look at a beautiful girl, both in vampire TV and in human TV was routine now was represent as a lover of adventure and did not make distinctions between vampire or human girls but this time... there was something different.

Jake with a smile like a book, the usual thing he did to get the attention that he loved to receive from women approached the new stylist. «Oh, hello. Are you new? I’m Jake, nice to meet you.» Jake reached out to him because with that excuse he would have the way to touch her and feel what she felt at that moment with his magic power.

The designer heard a melodic voice coming from next to her and that voice had already been heard a billion times on TV or when she listened to their songs. " Yes, i know who you are. You’re the one who’s always late and ruining staff time, right?" Y/n looked up for a second and found himself next to Jake Sim the womanizer of the group with his slightly frizzy blonde hair, his classic smile made all the girls drool for him and his body toned for the countless hours spent in the gym and training. But after a few seconds, she concentrated back on the jackets and Jake stood for an instant speechless. She didn’t even look at him. No smile, no blush, no nod of that typical "oh my god, it’s Jake from Enhypen" reaction.

«Wow, pungent. I like girls with character. What’s your name, honey? I bet that a girl like you will have a beautiful and particular name as your coppery blonde hair and your forest green eyes» Finally you look up and stare at him with a dry look. Jake’s eyes meet yours, but something goes wrong. He can’t read your emotions, or touch you for a second and it’s as if his usual power to manipulate the charm and feelings of others has disappeared. For the first time in hundreds of years, Jake feels... normal. "If you are done flirting with me i would be happy, i have to adjust your measurements for this jacket that i think is too big for you. Please stay still and try to keep it up until I’m done with the job, then you can go flirt with the other staff girls!" Jake, a little upset, lets himself take the measurements for the thousandth time. As she takes the measurements of his bust and shoulders,he smells her perfume: sweet but with a pungent note, just like her attitude towards him at this moment.

Jake is a serial chatterbox and tries to break the silence with another of his little jokes «You haven’t told me your name yet. I am always so irresistible with all the girls that i meet, what is it you have a magical power that you are particularly impervious to my charm?» Y/n looked at the vampire in front of her and looked up, God how self-centered this boy was.

"Well, maybe fate wanted you to meet for the first time a girl who does not find you irresistible to your charm, what if your little ego as a superstar is getting weaker because for the first time especially a human does not find you irresistible?" Jake looked at you slightly with his mouth open and felt his fangs become slightly longer and his eyes get darker than they should, why was he so excited about such a conversation? The little human was teasing him and seemed not to be afraid that there was a vampire in front of her who could temper or bleed her in an instant if she would not keep her mouth shut. As she continues to work, Jake realizes that not only can’t he use his powers on her, but that his natural charm doesn’t even seem to scratch her. This irritates him... and intrigues him.

It had been more than a month since your arrival in the world of Enhypen and you were always excited to discover and have adventures with them, In that month you were flying to Spain for a festival and had been able to design 2 dresses for members one for Sunghoon and the other for Jay and the department head was greatly surprised by the sketch and also how the set of the two vampire suits came out. With the other members, you had started to become less cynical and maybe even "friendly" but with the only one who could not get a professional and friendly relationship was Jake, he always made you some jokes inappropriate about how they dressed your jeans, how he loved seeing your beautiful legs while you were wearing skirts but at the same time he teased you about how you only became touchy when you were with him or how your cheeks warmed up when he whispered things a little dirty when you made it before you went out to sing on stage or when you were measuring him for a new suit. As it was happening at this exact moment: you had helped all the members to prepare and at the same time take photos that would go later on the various Fashion Blogs of the vampire world and human ones for the clothes worn by the 7 idols.

"Jake, it’s your turn to change the outfit," You said in a dry tone, trying to keep your cool as you were putting the sketch of the dress on the electronic board. Your heart is already agitated enough when Jake is near, with that mischievous smile and aura that seems to wrap around him. Jake came in and stood before you and looked at you with a puppy smile and slightly protruding lip and smiled at you with an expression that screamed amused and teasing. «Okay, but I’m a little tired, can you help me? Never know these leather pants seem so tight and i wouldn’t want to break them!» You ignored his words and pointed to the open shirt, leather jacket, and leather pants on the stand. “Hurry up with your clothes, Jake. We’re late." The vampire looked at his watch and had 10 minutes before he left for the event and of course, decided to complicate your life. With a languid smile, he pulls his shirt right in front of you, revealing his sculpted chest. You looked at him slightly amused but you were smoking out of anger because if they found you with only a finger too much put in a strange position for the department head they would fire you instantly, you shot to not look at it and not to let them see that you were slightly embarrassed, It wasn’t the first time you saw a bare chest but Jake had seriously sexy and muscular physique at the right spot and his muscular crests that formed a perfect V made you think of things you should never have imagined.

"Really? Couldn’t you change behind the partition like everyone else? What is it you have not yet understood that i'm not fascinated by you Jake" The vampire in front of you laughed and slipped his pants from the suit and remained only in boxers in front of you, were you cursing him in all possible languages because he wanted so much to embarrass you and tease you?

«Well, where is the fun if i went to change in knowing? It’s nice to see you so cheeky looking at my beautiful physique and who knows maybe in your mind you imagine being over my legs or while licking these beautiful muscles!» You were so tired of his insolence that you threw his shirt and heard him laugh. "Jake! Put some clothes on, for God’s sake!" «You are so boring Y/n, should you relax and have fun sometimes and why do you use words like Holy Heavens? i'm a vampire, not a priest or some clerical member». You sighed, trying to ignore it. But your work came before his stupid beats so you walked up and gently took his shirt. "Put this on. Right now, Jake. Otherwise, i'll send you out in just boxers." Jake took a step towards you, getting close enough to hold your breath. «Can you help me, right? You’re the designer. Touch me as well. I don’t bite... at least not without permission.»

You stared at him trying to keep calm. "Did anyone ever tell you that you’re unbearable?" Jake laughed softly as you might get slightly touchy, but when he felt her stylist’s little fingers touching his shoulder to fix his shirt, everything changed.

As your fingers touched his cold vampire skin, you both stiffened. There is something strange: an unexpected warmth spreads under your touch, as if only with your touch could feel the heat, something as unknown to a vampire. Jake was as amazed as he was, so he laid his big hand slightly over yours where you had just stopped for the heat shock you both received.

«You...you are hot Y/n» you laughed at his bat when you pushed your hand away to button the shirt buttons. "Wow what a scientific finding you just made Jake, of course, I’m hot in my body circulates blood, i'm a human if you don’t remember" Jake shook his head, it was seriously weird what was happening. For what reason did he feel the heat while touching it? Never happened. Then, with a more uncertain smile than usual, he looked at you, and you buttoned the last button and left two open to reveal his skin and toned physique. «No, you don’t understand Y/n. I’m a vampire i should be cold for you, you shouldn’t feel heat when you touch me, that only happens...» You didn’t want to hear his stupid comments anymore so you put the clothes on and made a sign to move “Jake... You talk too much, move that the other members are waiting for you. Give a little help from the hairstylist and run into the studio" you ran away from his presence and went to the studio where the other members were already ready, you put near your cape that smiled at you and made her see all the photos you had done to the members and fortunately Jake had made hairstylist so nobody noticed anything.

The months passed quickly and Y/n always pretended not to feel what she felt every time she accidentally touched the vampire and was unaware of what he felt and went through Jake’s head. You always tried to ignore what happened every time you touched Jake, but it wasn’t easy. At first, it was just isolated episodes: a touch of the arm to fix his jacket, a contact while you were fixing his collar. But each time, that unexpected heat returned, and each time it seemed to become more intense. Jake, for his part, did everything to provoke those moments and have an excuse to feel that touch. He came deliberately, with banal excuses: "Can you fix this sleeve?" or "I need help with this zip." He did not need any help, but he wanted to feel that heat that made him crazy. This thing was noticed by his companions and not only, no more gossip or drama between him and the other girls, was seriously focused on the comeback that would be there soon Jake every weekend was in the company of some girl and instead a couple of time seemed to have no more want to touch or date other girls, the only touch he wanted and was obsessed with was Y/n.

They had all worn the various costumes for the new comeback and were preparing to shoot the new video, Jake was training with the band members, but the presence of the stylist backstage distracted him. She was there talking to another stylist while she was bent over a box full of accessories, trying to fit them into a costume they would use later for recording outdoors.

Jake watches her in secret, trying to ignore the growing desire that assailed him every time he was in the same room with her, in the same plane, in the same bar where all the employees stopped in the morning practically her smell was getting more and more into Jake’s body and soul and it was strange because he had not yet felt or tasted her blood and seemed to attract him every day More and more.

Sunghoon gave him an elbow. <<Hey, what are you doing? You’ve missed the step for the third time. We have repeated this choreography a thousand times even the walls know it by heart>>

Jake clears his throat, trying to look natural. "Nothing, I’m just tired."

Jay, who is watching everything carefully, looks at him with a suspicious look. «Tired? Distracted? You’re a vampire we don’t rest almost ever Jake, these are all excuses»

Sunghoon follows Jake’s look and immediately understands. <<Oh, i see. It’s for you, isn’t it? Your favorite designer with whom you argue from morning to night, stop staring at her because besides us other people can follow your gaze right now. >>

Jake’s eyes are up, trying to hide the embarrassment. "Don’t be silly i wasn’t staring at her. For that moment when my eyes leaned on her figure you looked where my gaze was... that’s all." Jake was embarrassed and started to torture the fur of his hands

Jay with a mischievous grin looked at Jake. «Curious? How no. Your eyes are turning dark, brother. If you don’t calm down, you’ll make a vampire scene in front of everyone.»

Hoon laughed at Jay’s joke and came even closer to Jake << Look here not to mention the tusks. They are growing you every time you approach her. Maybe it’s time to do something.>>

Jake walked away from his brothers and looked at them badly "Nothing’s happening. There’s nothing wrong if sometimes my fangs become longer, it always happens when i’m near girls is my instinct as a predator what i'm"

Jay looks at him with a piercing look, as only a vampire can do. «You know that the heat and intensity you feel are not random. If she causes you all this, she could be your soul mate and not say that you have never thought about it because it is for a good few weeks that no gossip comes out about you, i don't see you flirting with any girl, and always seem so lost in your thoughts»

Jake would like to fight back but he gets stuck. He can’t deny it, but he doesn’t even admit it. The idea that she might be his soul mate scares him more than anything else, there are so few pairs of humans and a vampire, that they were seriously banned but since the two worlds made peace and began to collaborate subspecies of marriages between vampires and humans had been celebrated but were still seen as decidedly out of place especially by older generations.

Slowly, the other members also began to notice that something was wrong. Ni-Ki in particular enjoyed teasing Jake whenever the stylist was around.

Jungwon watched the older boy’s hair get tangled up from the sensations he was feeling when he saw Y/n. "Hey, Jake, are you all right? It seems your brain goes haywire every time she enters the room." Another time Ni-Ki was in the company of the golden retriever and Y/n had spent a second showing him a newspaper of Vogue Korea where they were and Ni-Ki was wearing a dress she had designed and when he left Jake was definitely desperate because the smell of Y/n was driving him crazy.

<<Maybe we should ask her to stay a little further away from you next time. We wouldn’t want Jake to lose control and throw himself at his neck, would we?>> Jake gave the group’s little boy a hateful look and cursed him when they bit him, nobody told him how hard it could be to feel and want a person who at first did not even much with his arrogance but now he was seriously tired and would do anything to understand if Y/n was his soul mate or if it was all fruit of his sick mind because he could not have it like all the other girls.

Enhypen flew to Japan for a festival where the top 5 bands of the moment would perform, both male and female, had just finished performing after another group called Stray Kids and when he came back backstage he went to grab something to nibble on but his look after a few seconds stopped on Y/n and felt his anger grow second by second. The reason why? His stylist was chatting with another idol, for his bad luck with one of the most beautiful humans in circulation as well as Hyunjin who belonged to the Stray Kids. Hyunjin was the representation of the classic model but at the same time idol, he was enigmatic with his aura as an artist, with his hair slightly long, and with his charm fake emo. The scene was innocent: you were getting a drink and Hyunjin came to you and as gentlemanly as he was asked if you wanted to taste some Japanese snacks that he loved because he had seen you busy preparing all the members for the day and how he deduced you had eaten almost nothing, the smiles and accepted until you started talking about the more and less of the various tours that the two groups were to do and Hyunjin without malice had touched your side. After all, he wanted to take more food to the table but Jake when he saw this scene something inside him clicked.

After a while, Y/n saw Jake arrive haughtily and stand in front of Hyunjin. «Are you finished? We need her. Work to do, you know how she gets paid to be our stylist not to have conversations with other idols."

Hyunhin confused took a step back. "Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb. I just wanted to let her discover some snacks that we humans love so much, things you vampires can’t understand!" Y/n watched Jake tighten his hands around his jeans more and more and after a few seconds he took her away from Hyunjin until he pushed his stylist into a closet Jake looked immediately if there were cameras but that time was lucky because there were only him and the designer attached to the wall with arms crossed to the body to make them as baracer.

"What a scene, Jake. I didn’t know you were my babysitter." Jake closed his eyes for a moment and when he opened them again there was no longer the golden retriever version that everyone knew but perhaps a darker and maybe true version of him. «I don’t like it when you approach people you don’t know.» But who did he think he was? had no control over you.

"Oh, i see. And why? Aren’t you the one who flirts with everything that is human or not, since you are a vampire?"

Jake’s jaw is tight. He was really tired of you, of your arrogance, of how you ignored that warmth you felt too, and wanted to teach you a lesson. «Don't compare me to them. You don’t belong to this world of idols, you don’t belong to anyone... except to me.»

His words made you jump. For a moment you are speechless, and then you decide to answer him with your usual sarcasm.

"Oh, really? And since when did you decide to become possessive? I thought you were the one-night stand, and so when i listened to the gossip news every weekend they would photograph or film you with one or maybe more different girls!"

Jake stepped towards you, his face a few inches from yours «Maybe i was. But you have changed everything fucking don’t tell me that you don't feel what i feel, every time i'm near you when i touch you, i always feel that electric discharge of heat that for us vampires is almost impossible to perceive because we have no blood and no emanate heat.»

"Don’t think your movie lines impress me, Jake. I’m not one of your fans who faints as soon as you smile, I’m not fascinated by you, I don’t see in you the guy that is represented on all media and not." You didn’t finish the sentence that Jake’s lips crashed into yours, there was no hesitation, only physical need. Contact is an explosion of sensations: the heat that feels every time it touches you becomes almost unbearable, wrapping both.

You remain motionless, caught by surprise, but then you give in to the kiss, returning it with a passion that you did not think you had. Jake came even closer and lifted you off the floor and sat you down on the small table full of detergents that he dropped when he put his big hands around your ass to lean on you and then close again to him. «Baby fuck, you’re driving me crazy months i wanted to feel your lips in mine» you slightly pushed Jake away but he dived back into your lips and a little moan came out of your lips when you felt his canines close to your lip and without permission bit your lower lip lightly and when Jake saw the drops of your blood began to sucked and at the same time lifted the light shirt you had on, and when he saw you only with the bra and little drops that were pouring out of your mouth, his neck up to the breast was no longer controlled and began to lick and suck you every drop scattered in your little body around yours.

"I hate you Jake" Jake smiled when he licked and sucked the little wound he had made in your lip again, «You’ll make me crazy Y/n, this is definitely your end you will not be able to go back» you put your arms around his neck and kissed him again but this time it was you who taunted him and as he had done he bit his lip but from him no drop of blood came out but from his lips, a lot of groans and sighs of pleasure, still covered by the breast-rest to his body and at the same time you kissed desperately and after a while Jake licked the wound that had caused you with his tongue and you no longer felt pain because with his tongue could cure any injury with his powers.

You pushed him away and after a while, you pulled him to sit next to you and you put yourself on him, you didn’t know if that table would hold your weight but you didn’t care, You just wanted to feel Jake’s lips again in your body and swung slightly along its length; Jake was seriously ecstatic. Who would have thought you had so much energy and desire to ride him? As you kissed, you felt his big hands slightly cold but when they touched your body they became slightly warm, one hand was behind your back to keep you balanced, and with a single gesture he took off your bra and with the other began to tighten a breast and took his lips from the you and bent slightly to suck an bud of your breast, You were so sensitive in that part of your body and all these new discoveries about you will go all into a part of his brain where he wrote down all the things you liked and those less. Your nipples harden in the cold air but are quickly warmed by Jake’s fingers, he pinches and pulls the buds sharply, and the feeling makes you want to get aroused. He started to torture you both nipples slowly and pulled his hair slightly, "Jake pls, don’t always be a jerk with me" A grin formed on his face, and licked you and suck the bud but his canines were driving you crazy because every time he sucked them you felt more and more in contact with your skin but Jake was not a mad lunatic as some people had painted him and not you would ever do harm, so with all his patience he never let out his teeth but only his tongue.

«Fuck stop little move so on my dick or I’ll come in these pants for thousands of dollars» A little moan came out from your lips and laughed at that sentence of Jake

"That’s the point, Jake, stop calling me a little girl because I’m not one of the whores you fucked for no reason" Jake was really fucked by you, who were you really?

You wrapped your arms around his arms again and began to ride them lengthwise, and Jake leaned his head against the wall and wrapped his big hands around your hips covered in a light pull of black leggings, You were sending him off head whenever you rode his dick covered in jeans and after a few seconds he felt the flap of his pants wet and a finger intruded into your pussy still dressed in leggings and felt that you were completely wet. Fuck for the first time in hundreds of years, he came as a boy loser in his boxer shorts.

Jake drew you close to himself and pressed you to his body and he drew light circles above your leggings behind your back until he felt that you had calmed down, After a while he slightly moved away from you and took your face with his big hands and stroked your completely reddened cheeks.

"You really are a problem Jake" He smiled at you and passed his thumb around where he had bit you slightly with his canine.

«And you are mine. You know that, don’t you?»

You did not answer, but the blush on your cheeks and the look in his eyes said it all.

After what had happened in the Japanese locker, it seemed to have made Jake more and more sensitive to the scent and smell of Y/n, tried in every way to throw a few glances, to visit her even for a few minutes between breaks of some intense choreography or in the morning he always arrived first and left him in his art studio some humanoid food that loved his human like a chocolate muffin or a smoothie. His companions or in short vampire brothers were mocking him a little but they were happy that the first to have found (hopefully) his soul mate was Jake, they were also tired of seeing him always with some girl different and knew that when he would find her would see his true cub nature as they called him "the golden retriever vampire" because he always loved to cuddle, Embrace or play with all members, especially with Ni-Ki who found herself in that world of the idol at a young age.

The autumn festival was on the plan in Seoul and Enhypen was invited as guest of honor, there were many other groups both vampires and humans and they were always a little alert because so many people would be perfect for "bad" vampires, creatures who did not accept the peace treaty with humans and were always hunting for some human to bite or even worse if they felt or knew that a vampire had eyes on a human wanted absolutely to make the vampire in question suffer. Their mission is clear: hit the stylist to hurt Jake and the rest of the group, because even if Y/n was the soul mate Jake had a subtle connection with the other 6 members, and if they hurt Jake would also hurt the others in some way.

While you were putting the accessories behind the scenes, a vampire suddenly appeared in front of you with red eyes and exposed tusks. You had seen some vampires lose control and even the Enhypen sometimes showed their canines to their fans or red eyes but this vampire in front of you looked literally scary and you went a little backward, They always told you that you shouldn’t be afraid because they would hear it and they would feel even more with the heart and blood pumping more but at this moment you were really terrified until you saw his canines come out of your mouth and tried to touch you but Jake and the others immediately rushed to you.

Jay pushed you with a pussyfoot behind him, saying «Don’t dare to come near her again or even worse touch her is ours.»

Sunghoon with his usual cold, calculating, and scornful look looked at the vampire still with eyes on you << You’ve chosen the wrong target, do not allow yourself to touch her or any other person without powers, Don’t turn against me because if you don’t remember I’m of the royal family and I could send you to hell in an instant>>

Jake when he saw that it wasn’t him who had saved you or alienated you from that vampire completely lost control. With a deep growl, face the vampire who had dared to approach you. Eyes as black as darkness tusks fully exposed. In a few seconds, the danger was eliminated.

But when you watched the scene of Jake biting and maybe killing that vampire in front of you, you became terrified and looked at everyone with scared eyes, especially Jake. You walked away from Jay looked at him and cried with tears "Stay away from me! All of you! You’re monsters!"

Jake turns to you, his face still marked by anger and adrenaline, and yells «I saved you. You should be glad i got him out»

You backed away a little "From what? From other monsters like you? I don’t want to have anything to do with you, your sick world full of malice"

Your words are like a dagger for Jake. His confident smile disappeared completely, giving way to a wounded expression, and lowered his head as he watched you move away from them but above all from him, and in a low voice he said «I... I am not like them.»

Sunghoon put his hand on Jake’s shoulder and said << Jake. She just needs time. >

«And if that were not enough? for her, I’m only a monster...»

The Enhypen were training without breaks for almost three hours until a man entered the rehearsal room. He is tall and elegant, but there is a menacing aura around him. His eyes glimmer with a dark red, and every movement seems calculated. Jake recognizes him immediately.

«Rex. What do you want?»

"Quiet I’m not here to create problems I’m here to warn you."

The other members stop, the air suddenly tenses and Jay immediately stands near Jake

<< Warn him of what?>>

Rex looked at Jake "You're... human. The stylist. She attracted unwanted attention. There are vampires who do not respect the treaty, and you are an easy target."

Jake clenches his fists, his body tense. «They will not touch her»

Rex raised an eyebrow, "I hope so for you. But protecting her while she lives alone is practically impossible. It’s better if she comes live with you, at least until things calm down."

Jake remains silent for a long moment. The stylist’s words come to his mind: "You are all monsters." The thought of seeing her every day, knowing how much she fears him, makes him feel empty.

«No way.»

Jay stared at Jake << Rex is right. If something happens to her, you won’t forgive yourself. Let me convince her that you are... too involved. >>

Jake turns to Jay, face tense. «Do as you please. But don’t ask me to talk to her.»

Jay meets you at the end of a long day’s work, sitting in your studio surrounded by a pile of sketches, unfinished clothes, and several cups of coffee with deep dark circles, a sign of sleepless nights.

Jay came in unannounced << You don’t look well>> You looked up and with surprise there was Jay

"What are you doing here? You’re not the one who usually makes surprise visits."

Jay smiled slightly << For Jake it is... complicated. So I’m the one to bring you the message, he knows that i’m half human like you so he thinks i’m the perfect candidate to tell you this bomb without you getting angry or scared even more>> you looked curious Jay and made with my hands the gesture of continuing to speak.

<< You’re safe here but not at home, you have to come and live with us, at least for a while until things settle down between you and Jake>>

You raised an eyebrow "And why should I? I don’t feel exactly comfortable with you... vampires"

Jay sighs, sitting in front of her. << Look, I know you’re angry and scared. And you’re right to be. But if you don’t come with us, we can’t guarantee your protection. Rex himself said you’re a target. And trust me, you don’t want to know what happens if one of those vampires finds you. If you don’t trust others of me you can trust i have the blood that flows under my skin and a little i can understand you, so now get up that i accompany you home, You take a nice hot shower and then we prepare a suitcase and come to stay with us for a while and then when things have settled you can decide whether to go back to your house or stay with Jake>> These words make you shiver and annuities without objecting.

When you arrived at their house you were warmly welcomed by everyone... except for Jake. Every time you met him in the hallways, he would just nod cold or look at you for a moment before leaving.

One night, however, terror took over. A sudden noise woke you up, and the memories of the attack at the festival came to mind. You looked at the time and without doing it on purpose were 3 o'clock in the night the time of the devil. Trembling, you slipped out of his room and headed for Jake’s door.

Knocking slowly you felt your heart beat strong until after a few seconds the door opened and there in front of you was Jake in pajamas with black stripes, red and blue, and a bare chest; you felt the cheeks turn immediately red and married the look to his face «What do you want?»

"Can’t i sleep, can i come in?"

Jake opened the door, his impassive expression, and saw you enter his shelter

«You shouldn’t be here Y/n, the monster in front of you could bleed you dry and feed you to other monsters like me!» You watched his canines on display and a shiver ran through your body, bit your lip and you approached him and you leaned down where he was sitting in bed.

"I’m sorry. I didn’t mean what i said. I was scared, confused, and when I saw you so angry and hurt that being me."

Jake finally looked up at you and looked at you with a bitter smile

«You said it, and you thought it. I’m nothing but a monster to you, am I?» You shook your head, unable to bear the distance that had been created between you and him by that event.

"You’re not a monster to me. You’re Jake. You’re the guy who makes me lose my patience every day, who makes me laugh when I least expect it, who looks at me as if I’m the only thing that matters in the world, who behaves a little bit of a pervert when I wear skirts or that always looks at me with that look you would like to claim yours and let everyone know! I was wrong, but... I don’t really mean it."

Before Jake could answer you kissed him. His lips were soft against hers, full of a sweetness that tried to erase the pain it had caused him, you felt immediately the heat that you had missed in those days and for a moment Jake let go responding to the kiss, but then he brusquely walked away and looked at you with those half-brown eyes with red shades.

Jake got up from his bed and put some distance away from you. «A kiss is not enough to fix everything. Not when you said those words... You don’t understand what it means to me to be seen like this by you, Y/n.»

You felt the tears burn your eyes, but he was not willing to give up.

"I didn’t understand it before but i do now. I know i hurt you, and maybe i don’t deserve your forgiveness. But... I want to make it right."

Jake stared at you, his eyes shining in the dim, full of conflict. Before he could answer you wrapped him in a sincere embrace, holding him as if it was something precious that maybe you had slowly understood that you too were feeling something for him.

"Please let me stay. I don’t want to sleep alone tonight."

Jake stood still for a long time, his body stiff against yours. Then, with a trembling breath, his arms rose and surrounded you

«You’re stubborn, you know? You drive me crazy»

You looked up, with a soft but provocative smile "I’m learning from the best golden retriever who can’t stop hugging people."

Jake laughed softly, shaking his head. His face became soft, and for the first time in those days, he seemed more serene.

«Do not make me regret this. Tomorrow when you wake up do the go away and don’t come back the girl cynical and a little haughty who loved to make fun of me, let’s discover Y/n»

You nodded against his chest, finally feeling some peace. You had been hugging for almost half an hour but after a while, you felt Jake’s belly growl with hunger and a little laugh came out of your mouths as you looked at each other, Jake broke away from you and took a small bottle of blood from under the bed and your face was at how much disgust but you saw immediately the expression of Jake become serious and maybe a little suffering? you bent slightly towards him and passed your little hand through his slightly long hair in the tuft "What’s wrong, Jake? Do you need a straw?"

Jake looked up at you exasperated «Don’t repeat Y/n, where did the sweet girl from before?» You raised your hands in surrender "I’m just saying. You’re a vampire, I thought drinking blood was like... your favorite thing."

«It’s not so simple Y/n, since i tasted yours, any blood sucks me and I have trouble feeding myself» you look at the boy next to you with a small grin

"Are you telling me that my blood is the best you’ve ever tasted?"

Jake looked at you with his little red eyes «It’s not funny.»

You said "He is a little bit. But hey, at least now I know that I’m irreplaceable for someone!"

Jake looked at you intensely and his little smile had vanished «You are much more than irreplaceable Y/n, now you sleep that it is almost 4»

The days passed and between exhausting workouts, events, and live, fan meetings the days went by quickly and even your stay in the protected villa of Enhypen continued. Jake kept teasing you and you did the same, It seemed that since the first time you slept together, embraced as two young boys who were to discover each other and not as a vampire who was afraid of losing you and a human who did not understand this thing about soul mate, But Jake that night was definitely in abstinence of something he had tasted from Y/n and wanted absolutely to possess it but at the same time did not want to scare her and be seen a "monster" from her eyes.

Jake walked into your room with quiet steps, slightly ruffled hair, and an unreadable expression on his face. You noticed it immediately: the way his eyes looked even darker than usual, the evident tension in his shoulders.

You looked up and there was a puppy-looking Jake in front of you, who was looking at you and honestly didn’t know what to do or say

"Can’t sleep, or did you miss me already? We met like an hour ago!"

Jake looked at you with his intense gaze as if he was eating with his eyes. «I can’t stay away from you.»

You were stuck for a moment, surprised by his sincerity," his voice was so serious, so vulnerable but you were literally a little bitch and loved to tease him and to hide the tension I said. " Oh, poor little golden retriever. Need a cuddle?"

Jake does not laugh. He comes slowly, until he sits on the edge of his bed, so close that you could feel the freshness of his skin. «Don’t joke, please Y/n. I need you tonight.»

His low, almost pleading tone made you shiver, you had never seen a Jake so direct and you approached him.

“Then what do you want to do, Jake? Stand there staring at me or..." You can’t finish the sentence that Jake moves suddenly, hands laying on the sides of your hips as he approaches you dangerously. His face is so close to you that he can feel his breath against your neck.

«Don’t ask me questions you’re not ready to hear answered.»

You held your breath but did not want to back out. In fact, you raised your hand and deliberately placed it on his chest, feeling his muscles tense under his shirt. "What if i was ready?"

Jake stiffens as if his words have broken something inside him. Then, slowly, he lets himself fall beside her, lying on the bed. «I don’t know if i can control myself tonight, you are too much Y/n for me.»

You’re turning towards him, a smile that plays on your lips. "Who said you had to control yourself? I thought you were a vampire, not a puppy."

Jake closed his eyes for a moment, breathing heavily. When he opens them again, there is something different about him: a vulnerability he had never shown before. He rises up on an elbow and fixes you with such intensity that you feel your cheeks warm.

Jake said in a roaring voice, «If I bite you, everything will change. I can’t risk hurting you.»

You bowed your head, your smile became a little more provocative. "What if i wanted to risk it?"

Jake doesn’t answer. He just stares at you for an infinite moment, then slowly lowers his head towards his neck. When his cold lips touch your skin, you feel a shiver run down your back.

"It’s not you who should be afraid, it’s me." Caress his cheeks and open your neck even more

Jake makes a low sound, almost a growl that sound was incredibly sexy and you would have wanted to hear it again forever. Then, without hesitation, gently sinks his fangs into your skin.

The pain is minimal, almost imperceptible, but the heat that follows is overwhelming. You felt the blood flow to him as if he was creating a bond that goes beyond the physical. Jake groans slowly, his body relaxing while he drinks with a sweetness that he would never have expected, he sucked gently but at the same time was unbridled by the heat that produced your body and the feeling of his lips around your neck and the taste that had your exquisite blood in his mouth. When he comes off, blood gushes from his lips and his eyes are dark, almost black. He took off your slightly stained shirt and little drops went into your body but he wanted to do something even dirtier with you.

Jake in a low voice, with a trembling smile, said to you «I know now why i can’t stay away from you. It’s you. It was always you.»

You touched your neck, still a little bit dizzy and sore, and felt Jake sit on his knees in front of your bed and take off your pajamas.

«You trust me, baby? I want to make you feel good but at the same time i too» watch Jake and to hide your nervousness you talked by doing one of your usual jokes." I just made you bite my neck and suck it, I think I do, Jake!"

Jake laughed softly, a deep guttural sound, and came close to touching your pussy, but he wanted to hear it with the tongue in which he had tasted you and still tasted your blood. He took off your already wet panties and you had the pussy totally stimulated because of his canines that sucked your blood and you were terribly excited, passed his tongue in your pussy and he moaned. «You’re so wet for me eh.?» He kissed you for a few seconds the inside cosca «So wet for the guy that you said it did not fascinate you eh.?» presses his pinky on your completely wet core, rotating around your inlet without any additional pressure.

"Jake pls, I’ve been so good to you i let you bite me i need..." was starting to tease you, and this time he was the one who was ruining you not you. He took his little finger off the clitoris and suddenly started to lick a path from your entrance to your clitoris where it snaps and sucks hard. The feeling makes you tremble on your knees and you reach for a hand to get caught in his hair, pulling hard. Jake works your clitoris just as you like it and you can feel your upcoming orgasm grow but he had another thought and let his hands off your thighs and suddenly stood up and opened your eyes for the loss of his tongue on your pussy and with canines in plain sight You felt his tongue with your juices give you little kisses where he had previously bitten you, and bit you again but this time for a few seconds and the contact of his canines on the skin another time made you moan both from pleasure and pain "Jakie". Jake was ecstatic when he heard that nickname and with the blood flowing back to taste your pussy «This is the sweetest thing i have ever tasted.» Jake opened you again with one hand before collecting your slimy cum and teasing your entrance. Your back bows giving him a better access and you groan as he puts one finger and then another.

«Are you close baby?» Jake bites your clitoris and you scream as he presses the sweet gummy spot inside of you that makes you see the stars. Come strong enough to get you shed tears again, your hand pulls the vampire stronger on your clitoris before it’s too much and you have to let go. Jake walks away but not before licking you clean and letting you shudder for all the sensations you had felt.

Jake gave you his shirt and I’ll pull you to myself to never let you go because you were really his and no one else would have you.

Morning light filters through the curtains of the room, creating a soft and warm atmosphere. You wake up slowly but your first thought is not work or your daily worries but Jake.

You look at him, noticing how his body is lying beside you, his arms around you as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Jake’s head is gently resting on your neck where a few hours before he bit you for the first time, you put your finger where he bit you but there was no visible sting but felt when you pressed lightly that it bothered you, His warm and regular breath made your neck tingle and you had never seen it so... Vulnerable. So human.

You smiled at the sight of him who didn’t look like a vampire but as his brothers said: he looked literally like a golden retriever in person size, he was so attached to you and you passed your hand through his cheeks, and then into his slightly ruffled hair. But you wanted to tease him as he had done last night and without thinking, your hand moved slowly towards his abdomen, touching it with a light movement. Jake’s skin is incredibly smooth, and you can’t help but follow the toning muscles that relax under his hand.

Jake barely moved, a low sound coming from his lips as a shiver seemed to run through his skin. You smiled, traced his muscle ridges, and whispered "Who would have thought a vampire could look like this... peaceful."

Jake didn’t answer, but his body reacts to your touch. The breath gets heavier, and he lifts his head slightly to look at you, his eyes are a little confused when he sees you looking at their muscles and touching them. «What are you doing?»

You bent forward and kissed him on the neck, letting your lips touch his cold skin. Don’t expect the reaction that follows. Jake stiffens and an immediate heat wave runs under his skin. His hands are clenched around your hips, and he looks at you with darker eyes than before.

Jake with a rock voice said to you «I didn’t think you liked playing with fire.»

You looked at yourself with a mischievous smile in front of you "I’m not playing, Jake. And then... who said I don’t like to take risks?"

Jake stared at you intensely, his body tense and incredibly close to yours. Then, without thinking too much, he comes even closer, his hands gently caressing your face before dropping down on your neck where it stops just uncertain.

«If I kiss you... I don’t know if I can stop.»

You smile amusingly, but also slightly provocatively. "What are you afraid of losing control, Jakey?"

Jake doesn’t answer, but the tension between you is palpable. It comes a little closer, his lips touch yours, and the intensity grows. «This time I will not stop if you keep teasing me like that Y/n, think carefully because you saw my two faces the one of vampire and I’m not so kind and the one from the Jake golden retriever. What would you like if I made you mine?» You felt your cheeks warm and you put your hand in his chest and both felt that warm elliptricity between your bodies. “I’d like both of them" Jake with a moan crashed into your lips and gently leaned over the pillows and laid himself on top of you holding onto his muscles and vampire strength as you kissed, He pulled your hair and to tease you he rubbed his cock in your fine pajamas. He groans in your mouth before his big hand takes your breast and pinches your nipple.

"Jakie," groaning, throwing his head backward as he creeps into your core. He leans over to clip his lips to your intact breast, pinching you as he rolls his hips forward again.

«Fuck my little human is rubbing on my dick like a slut» You pulled his hair and with one shot he slipped your pants and you were left alone with your panties but also those ended badly when he tore them off, He stood up slowly without taking his eyes from yours and took off his pajamas and boxer shorts too. You watched Jake pass a hand on his hard, slimy cock waiting for you. He almost gave in to the feeling, his free hand wrapped around your thigh to pull you close to him. «Look at you, who is going to fuck you in a moment. The boy you couldn’t stand» he whispers, taking his tip and dragging it between your wet folds.

"Jakie pls, I need you" Jake chuckled but did not move to slip inside you and was back to tease. «God had been dreaming of this moment for months, Y/n» sliding his cock’s head back and forth from your entrance to your clitoris waving your hips crying because you needed it inside you for the first time.

As he pushes in inch by inch, both groan quite loudly "fuck it’s so nice Jackie", was trying to slow down the pace but can’t hold back with you sucking his dick off perfectly, You put your arms around his neck, and pulled him closer so as he came out again pumped on your entrance and hit your G-spot.

Jake touches the bottom by bending forward and bending down halfway before burying his nose in your neck to try to catch his breath, felt how your heart was pumping and how your blood was running at a thousand in your body and was so proud of you feeling like this; you were hers and at that moment he would have wanted to do you. You don’t know how many dirty things: like biting you and fuck you at the same time but he knew it was too much for you so he hammered his cock in your pussy again and raised your leg to make it come in more and more and at the same time started to Tease your clitoris. You were beautiful under him moaning his name and looking at him with a face he had never seen, there was no more expression of a few days ago that you told him he was a monster, This was your true expression where with just a glance could see that you were slowly falling in love with him.

Eventually pushes you over the edge, coming strong around him, your eyes swirling towards the back of his head. Muscles tense and aching as he fucks you through your orgasm, sending shivers of pleasure all over your body. The cock was a little sloppy but kept pushing until you came in full and when it came out I held my breath.

He buries his face in your neck and kisses you again and again where yesterday he had you drooling, stabilizing your breath with his low moan coming out of your throat.

«I warn you, you are now completely mine. I will not let you go.» You looked up and embraced him.

"Stop being so possessive of me, maybe you’re my Jake. But for now, know that I like you a little... but I won’t tell you everything so easily."

Jake watched you, for a moment uncertain whether to believe what you said. Then he smiled, knowing that he would have his answer in his own way with time.

«Don’t worry. I’ll show you, baby»

You didn’t answer, but your heartbeat betrayed what you didn’t want to admit: Jake had already managed to take a part of you. And neither of them knew what would happen next.

Merry Christmas🎄comments are appreciated❤️

[almostwisegalaxy]

Deep Headcanon: Na Baek-jin as a Boyfrie

Na beak jin x GN!reader

"You taught me that love shouldn't save me. It should just let me be someone new. - Na Baek-jin

..................................................................................

A Tense Romance: The Awakening of Vulnerability

Na Baek-jin doesn't fall in love easily. He sees attachment as an exploitable weakness, a distraction from his objectives. But you are the exception he never anticipated.

You arrived as a quiet counterpoint to his coldness: neither dazzled by his charisma nor frightened by his methods. You answered him without trembling. On that day, you became a mystery greater than all the schemes he orchestrated.

Love, for Baek-jin, is never expressed in simple words. He has never said "I love you." He doesn't know how. But you hear it in:

"You came home late. You should avoid that alley."

"I've changed your access code. It's safer now."

"I looked into that professor who's treating you badly."

He speaks of love as one draws up war plans: coldly, strategically, never saying why he worries.

But you learn to translate.

Heavy Silences, Talkative Glances

Baek-jin is not a man of tender gestures. But when he looks at you, his gaze says what he cannot verbalize. In his eyes, there is an anxious obsession, a love that frightens him.

The rare times he touches you, it's calculated:

He silently tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, as if to make sure you're real.

He lets his hand brush yours when no one is looking.

He places a coat over your shoulders, not because you're cold, but because he cannot bear for anything to touch you without his consent.

It is a silent love, yet almost violently intense.

The Forbidden Notebook

One day, you discover a hidden notebook in a locked drawer. It's a journal. Na Baek-jin writes in it what he will never say.

"Today, they smiled at someone else. My stomach tightened. Is this fear?"

"I almost told them I was afraid of losing them. But it would have sounded like a loss of power. So I said: 'Do what you want. It's none of my business.'"

You never speak to him about it. You protect this secret as he protects yours. But sometimes you leave a note between the pages, a silent answer to his inner war.

Love Through Chaos

He draws you into a world of power, manipulation, and contained violence. But he never directly exposes you. He places an invisible barrier between you and what he does. Yet you know. You know his world devours his soul, that he sacrifices his last illusions of goodness.

And sometimes, at night, he breaks. He sits beside you. He says nothing. But his hands tremble. You place your hand on his, and for once, he doesn't pull away.

"I don't know who I would be without what I do. But I know that if you are no longer here, I am nothing."

This is not a declaration. It is a raw plea.

Mending What's Broken

Love with Na Baek-jin isn't about flowers or perfect photos. It's a field of ruins where you choose to plant a flower.

It's the silence in an empty apartment, where he leaves you the key, but never explicit permission. You invite yourself in when he can't take it anymore. You don't ask questions. You let him breathe. You make rice, you open a window.

One day, you fall ill. And unexpectedly, he takes care of you. In an almost mechanical, clumsy, yet clinically precise way. You sense he's never done this before. But he reads, he learns, he makes lists.

"You need to drink every 2 hours. I set alarms. I avoided anti-inflammatories; they interfere with your medication."

You cry. And he doesn't understand why.

The Day He Was Afraid

That day, you disappeared for six hours. Your phone was off. He searched everywhere. He called every contact, every camera, every informant.

When you return, exhausted by a simple dead battery and a traffic jam, he has no words. But he pulls you close, hard, brutally.

"Don't ever do that again. You don't have the right to disappear. You're not just someone in my life. You are my only anchor."

It's the first time he cries. And you say nothing. You just rest your head against his shoulder. And you understand: he let you in. You are in his nervous system now.

Rage and Tenderness: The Living Paradox

Love with Na Baek-jin is brutal and tender. He knows no moderation. When he worries, he shouts. When he's scared, he turns cold. When he loves you, he trembles.

He loves you like one loves on the edge of a void. Like someone who has never known solid ground.

But he learns. With you. Every day. Slowly. In small doses.

He starts sending you messages with a ❤️ that he deletes and re-adds three times before pressing "send." He starts resting his head on your shoulder, in an almost childlike gesture. He learns to fall asleep without fearing abandonment upon waking.

The Seasons' Notebook

One day, you create a tradition: writing him a letter with each change of season. He never replies. But you continue.

One winter day, he hands you a notebook. It contains his replies. All of them.

Spring: "I never thought I could love someone as much as my ambition. You showed me that love doesn't erase strength; it redirects it."

Summer: "I watched you laugh today. I wanted time to stop. For the first time, I wished to live for someone other than myself."

You cry as you read. He pulls you into his arms. And for the first time, he tells you:

"You are the only thing in this world I don't want to control. Just keep."

An Uncertain Future, But Together

Na Baek-jin doesn't believe in tomorrow. He lives by the logic of the present: control, survive, defend.

But sometimes, he watches you sleep, and he dares. He allows himself to dream.

He imagines an apartment where you don't have to hide. A café he would open, far from schemes and fists. A dog. Maybe a child. Normal evenings.

He doesn't believe it yet. But he confesses it to you one evening, whispering against your neck:

"I never thought I'd live to be old. But if I have to... I'd want it to be with you."

And that's what love with Baek-jin is.

It's not clean. It's not easy. But it's true.

It's the kind of love that hurts, that heals, that sometimes destroys, but if it survives, it becomes indestructible.

Because he loves you with all that he is—even what he hates about himself.

And one day, he finally understands that he might deserve to be loved in return.

Not despite all of it.

But because of all of it.

Love as Healing

Na Baek-jin remains a man of contradictions. He controls, he tests, he doubts. But he loves. Intensely. As if you were the last purity he deserves.

He respects you. Not just your body, but your ideas, your freedom, your right to question him. He relearns how to live. He deconstructs what he was taught: that love is weakness, that the world is a power game.

With you, he learns that intimacy is not a danger but a liberation. That saying "I'm tired" doesn't mean "I lose" but "I rest in your arms."

Love, Baek-jin Style

Loving Baek-jin isn't living an ideal romance. It's being loved by someone who knows the taste of blood, but who chooses to lay down his weapons before you.

It's seeing a boy everyone believes invincible wake up with a start at night and whisper: "Are you here?"

It's learning to decipher silence, to read between the lines of a gaze, to understand that a "Be careful" said while looking away means: "Come back alive to me; I wouldn't survive your loss."

It's living a love that doesn't try to be perfect, but chooses to be true.

It's loving a boy who has done terrible things, but who, with you, learns to be gentle without feeling weak.

............................* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊

°Moments when he says I love you without words

The First Time He Fought for You

It was an alley. You weren't supposed to be there. Not supposed to see what you saw.

They surrounded you — not to truly hurt you, but to test. To hurt him, indirectly.

And when he arrived, he didn't even look at you at first.

He just stood in front of you, back straight, fists clenched.

He didn't yell. He didn't threaten.

He destroyed them. Methodically. Without a word.

And when it was all over, his knuckles bleeding, breathing heavily, he turned to you.

Not to reassure you.

He just whispered:

> "I told you not to linger here."

But his hands were trembling.

And you understood: it wasn't anger. It was fear. A panic-stricken fear of losing you.

The Night He Allowed Himself to Cry

You came to his place unannounced.

You found him sitting on the floor, leaning against the bathroom door, soaked in sweat and cold water.

He'd been fighting. Again. Not to survive this time — just because he didn't know what else to do to exist.

You didn't ask him any questions.

You sat across from him, knees touching knees.

And there, in the cold light, he lowered his head. He murmured:

> "I don't know how else to be. I've tried. But I always fall back."

> "You don't deserve someone like me."

And without you responding, he cried. Not loud sobs. Silent tears, full of humiliation and love intertwined.

You reached out your hand. He took it. It was the first time.

The Night He Whispered "Stay"

You were ready to leave. Another argument. Too much tension. Too many walls.

You had gotten out of bed, silently, in the dark.

And as you gathered your bag, you heard his voice. Deep, cracked. So human.

> "Stay."

One word. Just one.

Not a plea. Not an apology. A confession.

You stopped.

He sat up, still wrapped in the sheets, hair messy, gaze burning. He didn't move, but his whole body seemed to reach out to you.

> "I don't want you to leave... even if I don't have the words to tell you properly."

> "But if you leave... I know I won't recover from that."

You stayed.

Not because he begged you. But because it was true.

The Day He Had a Nightmare and Sought You Like a Child

He had always slept alone. Even with you beside him, there was a tension in his muscles that never truly left.

But one night, he screamed in his sleep.

A hoarse, deep cry. The kind that seems to well up from childhood, from unspoken traumas.

You woke him. He was sweating, eyes wild, hands clutching the sheet.

He looked at you as if he'd forgotten you truly existed.

And then he reached out.

Not like a lover. Like a ten-year-old boy who doesn't want to sleep alone in the dark anymore.

You came close to him. He hugged you so tightly you gasped for breath.

And in the crook of your neck, he whispered, almost inaudibly:

> "I dreamed you were leaving, and I couldn't catch you."

> "Even my legs wouldn't respond."

The Day He Said "I Love You" Without Saying It

He will never say those words in a classic way.

But one evening, as you watched the rain fall against the windows, he entered the room.

He sat beside you, rested his head on your shoulder, and remained there motionless for long minutes.

Then, as if speaking to the rain:

> "Before you, I never wanted to go home."

> "Now, it's the only place I want to go."

You said nothing. You simply placed your hand on his.

And he kept it there.

The Day He Entrusted You With His Future

It was mundane. A subway station. A moment between two obligations.

You were talking about plans. About the future. Simple dreams: a dog, a car, a normal job.

He smiled. Rare. Almost sad.

And then, without looking at you, he said:

> "Do you think a guy like me can have all that?"

> "Not now. But one day. With you."

And that day, for the first time, he allowed himself to hope.

Not in silence.

Out loud. With you.

The Moment He Defended You... From Yourself

You were devaluing yourself. Again.

You laughed, saying you weren't good enough, that you didn't understand why he stayed.

He froze.

Then he stood up, approached slowly, and looked you straight in the eyes.

> "Don't you ever say that again."

> "You are the only clean thing in my life. And I swear, I will destroy anyone who makes you believe you're worthless—including you."

You felt like crying.

Not because he was yelling. But because it was true. Raw. Protective. Na Baek-jin, in all his rage to love.

And That Silence...

The most intense?

It's not a scene. Not a declaration.

It's that moment, where you're sitting next to each other, saying nothing.

He looks at your hands. You look at the scar on his chin.

And in that silence, you feel everything he will never be able to express.

> That he loves you like a survivor loves the morning light.

> That he's afraid, every day, of losing you.

> And that he's ready to become a new man—not for you.

But because, thanks to you, he discovered he was capable of it.

............................* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊

Conclusion:

Na Baek-jin as a boyfriend is not an easy romance. It's a story of healing, of balance between control and surrender, between strategy and sincerity.

But if you hold on, if you understand his language, if you respect his silences, then you become more than a love for him: you become a refuge. And he will be willing to do anything to protect it.

Na Baek-jin never learned to love. But with you, he creates a new code. A love that is at once raw, honest, and indestructible.

..................................................................................

Other weak hero class fanfictions here

Yeah. My man (⁠灬⁠º⁠‿⁠º⁠灬⁠)⁠♡

@mariii-0001 @mizxuqii @iiwsmr @emswirls