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barnacles34 · 3 months ago

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My Greatest Joy

IVE Yujin x Male Reader

16k words

'A single person is missing for you, and the whole world is empty.' — The Year of Magical Thinking

18+ smut

The Birth Crisis. The Great Vanishing. The Specter of Demographic Collapse. The media couldn’t decide on a name, only that it was happening. Some said Korea would be empty in a century. Others, ten years. Twenty-five, if they were feeling generous. A hysterical pendulum swing between denial and terror, between think-tank white papers and government campaigns urging citizens to bureaucratize what was once spontaneous: love, sex, reproduction.

But in Dunsan-dong, no one talked about it. Not really. Not in any meaningful way. The village shrank in slow motion. Affairs stopped happening—nobody had the energy, or the audience. The local divorce lawyer quietly removed ‘Infidelity’ from his services, then shut down altogether. Playgrounds grew ghostly. The corner food stands, once territorial battlegrounds for unruly teenagers, went bankrupt one by one. ‘Kids these days grow up too fast,’ one ajumma said, as if that were the whole explanation.

And yet, in all this entropy, two were born. A statistical error. A miracle.

Miracle is not hyperbole. In two decades, the birth count had been three. The bureaucratic failure of Love—yes, Love, capital L, the thing that was supposed to be instinctual, inevitable, the thing people built whole religions and K-dramas around—had finally completed its slow bureaucratic death. Love was no longer a force. Love was paperwork.

Except for two people.

For them, Love was everything.

—

'One move and you'll split open like a badly wrapped present.' ‘Is that your professional opinion?' 'That's my twenty years of keeping-you-alive opinion.' She's biting her lower lip, the way she always does when she's trying not to smile at your stupidity. 'And I really don't want to explain to some emergency room doctor why I have a boy bleeding out in my room at 2 AM.'

The gash should hurt more. Six inches of red spite across your forearm, but all you can focus on is how Yujin's looking at it—like she's found something breakable in a world made of steel.

'I really fucked up.' 'Did you?' Her touch finds your good arm, barely there. 'Or did you do exactly what you meant to?'

The lamp makes everything soft. She's wearing your t-shirt—the one you left here that summer when the AC broke. Cotton worn thin enough to catch shadowy curves underneath. Silk pajama bottoms that whisper secrets when she moves. You try not to notice. You notice everything.

'This might need stitches.' 'Are you volunteering?' 'Shut up and hold still.' But there's laughter in her voice, the kind that makes your chest tight. 'Some of us are trying to work miracles here.'

The first-aid kit looks wrong in her small hands. Those hands that used to patch up your scraped knees, that still know exactly where you're breakable.

'Remember that time in third grade?' Her fingers ghost over your skin. 'When you tried to convince me you could fly?' 'I could've.' 'You broke your arm.' 'Minor setback.' She laughs, soft and close. 'Nothing's changed, has it?'

Everything's changed. The way moonlight catches in her hair now, how her perfume makes your head swim, the careful distance she keeps even when she's touching you. But you say, 'Not the important things.'

Her breath hits your arm in warm little puffs as she works. Clean movements. No hesitation. Like she's mapping something she never forgot.

'Almost done.' Her thumb traces the edge of the bandage. 'Next time try not to bleed on my carpet?' 'Yujin-ah.' 'Mm?' 'Thank you.'

She looks up. Those eyes crack something in your chest. Then she smiles and whatever was cracked turns to stardust.

'So how'd it happen? And don't say you just slipped, because I know all your clumsy excuses by heart.' 'Just slipped.' 'Onto what? Did some wandering samurai leave their sword in Dunsan-dong?' 'You never know what you'll find these days.' 'Hey.' Her voice goes quiet, the way it used to when she'd tell you secrets at midnight. 'Tell me? I promise to not scold you…much.'

Face to face now. The universe narrows to this: her eyes on yours, her hands still on your skin.

'Okay.' You gesture with your good arm. 'Window.' 'What did you—' Her voice catches. 'If you've done something wild—'

Then you smile.

You watch her shoulders drop. It's a small thing, being able to do this—turn her static to quiet. Not exactly Superman stuff, but it's the only superpower you'd keep if they were dealing them out.

She knows. You can see it in how she moves—little half-dance steps to the window, taking your words as is—hopefully, something good. The curtain whispers. You don't watch. Can't. Your skin's electric with her lingering smell—something you'd bottle if you could, except that'd ruin it, the particular way her skin holds the perfume.

The silence stretches until you think you might snap. Then—

'What am I supposed to be looking at? Because all I see is Mrs. Kim's cat trying to fight a streetlight again, and—' She stops. 'What's it say?'

'Let me make sure I'm reading this right.' She's still facing the window, but you can hear the smile breaking through, eyes transforming into pure joy. 'Because either someone's confessing to me via Christmas lights at 2 AM, or the neighborhood's having a very very specific power outage.'

'These past years—' 'Wait.' She spins around, eyes catching lamplight. 'Did you seriously string up every Christmas light in Dunsan-dong just to—' She takes three quick steps toward you, stops. 'The lights outside the convenience store. The ones from the coffee shop. Even the ones from—' Her eyes go wide. 'You didn't.'

'Old Mr. Park drives a hard bargain.' 'His birthday lights? The ones he's kept since forever?' 'To be fair, they were already purple. Worked with the aesthetic.' 'And what exactly did you promise him?' 'Just my eternal servitude. And maybe repainting his fence.' 'The whole fence?'

'Both sides.'

She shakes her head, but her smile could light up the whole neighborhood. 'You're insane. Completely insane. Do you know how many people I had to convince about your mental well-being?'

'Had to?'

'Have to. Present tense.' She's between your knees now, playing with your shirt hem like it's suddenly the most interesting thing in the world. 'Though I guess now I'll have to change my story to "dating a lunatic who steals Christmas lights and nearly loses an arm trying to spell out love confessions."'

Your heart stumbles. 'Dating?'

'Well,' her borrowed shirt slips further, showing more shoulder. 'I mean, you did just write my name in stars.'

'They're Christmas lights.'

'Same difference.' Her fingers trail up your arm, careful of the bandage. 'Very romantic Christmas lights.'

'Does that mean—'

'It means anyone crazy enough to risk tetanus and Mr. Park's wrath deserves at least dinner.' A pause, then softer: 'Maybe breakfast too, if they play their cards right.'

'Just breakfast?'

'Don't push your luck.' But she's smiling that smile—the one that's always been just for you.

'Yujin-ah.'

'Mm?'

'All these years, did you ever—'

'Every day.' She doesn't let you finish. Doesn't need to. 'Every single day.'

'Can I—'

Her mouth finds yours: the way her lips part like flower petals at dawn, soft and inevitable. Her breath mingles with yours. There's the perfect arch of her spine, the way her breasts press warm against your chest through thin cotton, how her hips seek yours with an instinct older than thought. The taste of her, sweet milk tea and something darker, something that makes your blood sing. Her hands flutter at your neck, startled, before finding home in your hair, and there's that smell of her—woody, floral, fruity—that makes you dizzy, makes you forget where you end and she begins. Delicate sounds escape her, primal and pure, vibrating through both your bodies like a struck chord. Then she's pulling back, but her body stays honest—trembling, burning: alive with new knowledge.

'Sorry,' she whispers. 'Got carried away. We should probably wait until your wound is healed.' Her smile is so reassuring, masking the softest disappointment that her eyes couldn't hide.

But she was in luck.

Your fingers circle her wrist mid-fret, right as she's about to check your bandage for the seventh time. Her skin is cool against yours, pulse like a hummingbird.

'Stop fretting.'

'I'm not fretting.' But she's barely holding back a smile, eyes bright with something more than just lamplight. 'I'm calculating how many years Mr. Park's going to make you repaint his fence.'

'Already negotiated.' You tug her closer, feeling the way she pretends to resist. 'Two coats, both sides, and my firstborn child.'

'Bold of you to negotiate with children that don't exist.' She settles between your knees anyway, like she's found her way home.

'Yet.'

Her borrowed shirt—your shirt—slips further off one shoulder. 'You're impossible.'

'Impossible enough to steal every Christmas light in Dunsan-dong.'

'Borrow,' she corrects, fingers playing with your collar. 'We're calling it borrowing. Sounds less felonious.'

'Look who's being responsible.'

'Someone has to be.' But she's leaning closer, breath warm against your mouth. 'Since you've apparently lost your mind.'

'Lost it years ago.' Your thumb traces her lower lip. 'Right around the time you started wearing my clothes.'

She makes this sound—half laugh, half something else entirely. 'Smooth talker.'

'Only for you.'

Her hands find your chest, but there's no real resistance in it. 'If you tear those stitches—'

The kiss swallows her warning. This one's different—deeper, like you're trying to taste every year you've waited. She makes a sound that turns your blood to starlight, fingers curling into your shirt like she's afraid you'll disappear.

'That's cheating,' she whispers when you break apart.

'Is it working?'

The lamp catches gold in her eyes. 'Always will.'

Your hand finds skin at the small of her back. She arches like a cat stretching into sunlight.

'You're staring.'

'Can't help it.'

'Try.'

'Make me.'

She kisses you this time—soft, sweet, dangerous. When she pulls back, her smile could outshine every stolen light in the neighborhood.

'We should probably—' she starts.

'Probably.'

Her fingers find the hem of her shirt. Your shirt. Details.

What follows is an exercise in creative problem-solving. One functional arm between you, too much cotton, not enough coordination. Her hair gets caught. You both laugh. The shirt wins the first round.

'Left,' she instructs.

'My left or your left?'

'Wait—here… I got it.'

The second attempt goes better. The shirt surrenders its hold, and suddenly there's just Yujin—all golden skin and starlight. Her bra's simple beige cotton, but the way it holds her could make Michaelangelo weep.

'You're staring again.'

'Still can't help it.'

She kisses you quiet, hands on your shoulders, pulling you closer. Everything soft and warm and perfect.

'Can I—' your fingers find her back, trace lace.

'Yes.' Another kiss. 'Please.'

The bra falls away like a secret finally told. You forget how words work.

The air hums with the weight of revelation—her body an altar, every contour a psalm. Your breath tangles as you drink her in: the bronze aureoles, the arch of her ribs like a vaulted sanctuary, the pulse fluttering at her throat like a caged sparrow. She shivers beneath your gaze: the raw vulnerability of a soul laid bare.

Your palms ascend her sides, mapping the smoothness, the glory of it all—each sigh, each hitch of muscle, a dialect you ache to memorize. She tips her head back as your thumbs brush the underswell of her breasts, a whimper dissolving. ‘More,’ she murmurs, not a demand but a prayer, a beg; her fingers knotting in your hair as if you might slip away like smoke.

You oblige, slow as honey, mouth tracing the salt-sweet hollow of her collarbone. Her skin blooms beneath your lips—petal-soft, fever-warm—as you chart a path lower, lower, until her nipple grazes your tongue. She gasps, back arching. Her hands clutch at you, anchor and plea, as you worship her with unhurried devotion, savoring each tremor, each stuttered breath.

When her legs part—a silent invitation—it’s your turn to shudder. The heat of her radiates through the last fragile barrier, a molten promise. You press closer, the rigid heat of your unclothed shaft straining against her thigh, a visceral counterpoint to her softness. She rolls her hips, deliberate, and you groan as her warmth grinds against you, friction sparking like flint.

You linger there, foreheads pressed, breaths mingling, the world narrowed to the space between heartbeats. Her eyes lock with yours, galaxies swirling in their depths. ‘I want to feel you,’ she whispers, voice trembling. ‘All of you.’

You move as tides do: inevitable, reverent. Her thighs cradle your hips as you guide yourself to her entrance, the head of your shaft slick with Her. The first breach is a shared gasp—a threshold crossed in tandem. She tightens around you, velvet heat clenching like a fist around your length, and you still, trembling, sweat-slicked and spellbound. Her nails score your shoulders, anchoring you to the agony of slowness.

‘Slowly,’ she breathes, and you obey, each fractional advance a pilgrimage. Her fingers trace your jaw, your lips, as if memorizing the shape of this moment. When you’re sheathed fully, time suspends. Her lashes flutter closed, a tear escaping as she whispers, 'Yes.'

You move in thrusts. Her sighs crest into whimpers, into chants of your name, each syllable a spark in the gathering storm. Her breasts sway with the rhythm, nipples brushing your chest, while your hands grip the flare of her hips, guiding her into the tide. Around you, the room dissolves: there is only her skin, her scent, the liquid pull of her around your shaft—a mosaic of need and nectar, each fragment a revelation.

You kiss her deeply, tasting the salt of her surrender, as the world fractures, reforms, and fractures again.

—

Sheets tangled like an afterthought. A leg hooked over yours, pinning you in place with the quiet authority of someone who has long since decided where they belong. The desk fan ticks through its slow, mechanical arc, stirring the air, stirring her hair, making it brush your chin in the softest, smallest way possible.

She shifts, just enough for her ribs to press against yours. You feel her breathing. Deep. Slow. Listening.

‘I have an audition next week,’ she says, voice barely above a whisper.

‘For what?’

‘Community theater. Spring show.’ A pause. Then, quietly, ‘It’s dumb.’

‘You don’t do dumb things.’

She laughs. A real one. The kind that scrunches her nose a little, that makes her shoulders shake just enough to jostle you.

‘Except this,’ she murmurs. Her fingers trace slow circles on your chest.

‘This was a strategic decision.’

‘Oh?’

‘Carefully calculated.’

She laughs again, softer this time. Her breath is warm where it spills against your collarbone. You could live here. Right here, in the space between her voice and her warmth and the way her hair tickles your skin.

She props herself up on one elbow, looking down at you. The Christmas lights outside flicker purples and blues across her face, her skin, making her look like something caught between a dream and waking. Her smile is quiet. Not big, not blinding. Just there. Something she’s forgotten to hide.

‘Hey,’ she says.

‘Hey.’

Her fingers tap lightly against your chest. ‘Remember when you proposed to me behind the school?’

‘Which time.’

She grins. ‘The time I lost the play to Wonyoung and cried so hard I got a nosebleed.’

‘Ah. I told you it didn’t matter because you’d always be the lead in my story.’

She groans, dropping her forehead to your shoulder. ‘You were so corny.’

‘Still am.’

‘Yeah,’ she murmurs. ‘You are.’

You feel her smile against your skin.

The fan clicks on again, stirring the night, the space between you. The crickets outside hum in harmony with the distant sound of a train—faint, but there. The whole world is slowing down. Breathing with you.

She shifts again, nestles closer. Her lips brush your skin—your collarbone, then just above your heart.

‘I can hear you thinking,’ you say.

She sighs, slow and steady. ‘Just… happy.’

You don’t say anything. Just hold her tighter. Like keeping her close might keep the moment from slipping away.

She pulls back, just far enough to see you, really see you. Her hair is a mess. Her lips are still swollen. The Christmas lights turn her eyes into something impossible, something endless.

‘I love you, you know,’ she says, like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Like she’s never known anything else.

You smile. ‘I know.’

She kisses you. Slow, deep, soft. Like a secret. Like an answer.

The fan ticks. The lights flicker. The night stretches on.

—

It was supposed to be small. A local theater gig, a footnote in her life story. Something that kept her busy while she figured out the rest. That was the plan.

Then a casting director walked into the wrong show on the right night. A single scene, a single line delivered with the kind of weight that makes people stop chewing their popcorn. Two weeks later, she’s everywhere.

At first, it’s just murmurs. Articles in the culture section. Buzzwords like promising, raw talent, the next big thing. Then the billboards go up. Magazines with her face—half-laughing, half-serious, eyes catching the camera like they know something you don’t. The first time you see one, it’s plastered on the side of a bus stop you used to share, back when the only lines she rehearsed were whispered promises and badly sung pop songs.

Now she’s too big for Dunsan-dong.

Not just big. Seismic.

Korea’s sweetheart, the industry's new obsession. Agencies circle like sharks with briefcases, smiling through teeth polished for negotiation. They offer her everything—money, sponsorships, a life where she doesn’t have to wait for the subway or count change at convenience stores. And she takes it, not because she’s greedy, but because this is what she was always meant to be.

You watch it happen the way people watch slow-motion car crashes. Helpless. Horrified. A little bit in awe.

Because here’s the thing they never warn you about when you love someone who's destined for greatness: fame isn’t a door. It’s a chasm. You can’t walk through it holding hands.

At first, you convince yourself nothing’s changed. You still talk, still text. But her replies come slower, her voice more rehearsed. The calls happen between set breaks, her voice filtered through exhaustion and bad reception.

Then the interviews start. The talk shows. The press tours.

She gets good at the answers, the little smiles, the artful dodges. The first time someone asks if she’s dating anyone, she hesitates. Just for a second. Just long enough for the internet to notice.

You tell yourself it doesn’t mean anything. That she’s protecting you. That this is just part of the machine.

But a few weeks later, you see a headline:

‘The Nation’s New Star: Who is Yujin’s Mystery First Love?’

And for the first time, it hits you—really hits you—how easy it is to be rewritten.

The tabloids build their own history, constructing boyfriends from old classmates, exes from co-stars. They don’t name you. They don’t have to. Because in the world they’ve built, you don’t exist.

And maybe, you start to think, maybe you never did.

Maybe love isn’t enough when it’s up against the weight of the world. Maybe you were naive to think you could be something more than a footnote in her legend.

Maybe you were never really two. Maybe it was always just her.

Moving forward. Rising higher.

And you—

You’re just the idiot standing still, watching her disappear into the stars.

—

Yujin called you up.

The night was cutting: cold, unrelenting Snow blew sideways, a thousand tiny knives catching on your exposed skin, but you sat there anyway—legs crossed, hands in your lap, all polite.

The bench was old, paint curling at the edges, the kind of place people only sat when they had no better options. You smiled at the irony.

You’d met Yujin in worse places. Loved her in worse places.

And maybe, just maybe, lost her in worse places too.

Then she emerged from the fog, a silhouette first, then a shape, then a person.

Five benches away. Maybe six. Distance had become an abstract concept, like time, like certainty, like the idea that love—real love—was enough to hold the weight of the whole goddamn world.

She didn’t sit. Didn’t hesitate.

‘Let’s break up.’

The words didn’t belong to the girl who used to steal fries from your plate, who used to call you at 2 AM because she saw a cat in the street and thought you needed to know. They belonged to someone else. Someone who had spent hours, maybe days, rehearsing.

Her voice was final. Her eyes were final. Everything about her, from the way she stood to the way the wind refused to touch her, was final.

You should’ve said something.

Anything.

But the air left your lungs in one sharp exhale, stolen by the weight of three syllables arranged in an execution sentence.

The snow caught in her hair, in her lashes, in the hollow curve of her collarbone, and she looked—god, she looked—like something from a dream you had once, the kind you woke from gasping, reaching for someone who wasn’t there.

And then she wasn’t.

She turned. Walked away. Snow swallowed her whole.

You could’ve chased her. Could’ve fallen to your knees, begged, pleaded, made a scene, made a fool of yourself. Could’ve grabbed her wrist, reminded her that you were not just some chapter to be closed. Could’ve thrown every memory, every quiet moment, every touch, every whispered I love you in her face like proof of something sacred.

But you didn’t.

Because Yujin never spoke like this. Not unless she meant it.

And that’s what gutted you most.

You sat there long after she was gone, staring at the place she used to be, like if you looked hard enough, you could rewind time, unbreak whatever fragile thing had finally snapped between you.

The sky stretched empty above you, stars sharp against the ink. You tried counting them. Tried counting anything to stop counting the ways you’d just lost her.

One star. Two. One mistake. Two. Three years. Four. Five benches away.

Maybe six. The wind howled, and you let it.

—

The beer’s flat, but that’s not why it tastes bad.

You lean against the bar, watching foam dissolve into something thin and lifeless, the way good things always do. Three years distilled into neon lights and a tab you don’t remember opening.

She’s 24 now. You keep count because she was impossible to avoid—billboards, subway ads, every damn screen flashing her face like she owns the world. And maybe she does. The brightest star, the nation’s darling, the girl who left and became.

You should be proud. You tell yourself you are.

But pride doesn’t feel like this. Doesn’t sit heavy in your ribs like grief. Doesn’t twist like a blade when you flip through channels and land on her.

The latest drama. Friends-to-lovers, some rom-com fluff. A special kind of hell, watching her fall for someone else, even if it’s scripted.

And the kiss—god, the kiss.

Over and over. Different angles, different takes. The guy has trepid shoulders and a weaker mouth. You want to reach through the screen, grab him by his stupid collar, shake him until he understands: You don’t get to kiss Yujin like that unless you mean it.

The beer in your hand swirls, a storm in a pint glass. You watch it spin, thinking about how everything these days seems determined to drown you.

Then Roach walks in.

Roach—half philosopher, half walking disaster. A man with too many past lives and a prosthetic eye that glows faintly under bar light, making him look part machine, part ghost.

‘That recovery group, they’re solid,’ he says, by way of hello. His voice is like chewing on gravel. ‘Might’ve been able to quit if I stuck around.’ ‘4.8 stars on Google, right?’ ‘Right. Wait. How’d you know that?’ His synthetic eye sits there while the real one narrows. ‘Been there.’ ‘What?’ ‘Been there. You recommended it.’ Roach laughs, short and sharp. ‘That was the review forum.’ ‘Memory’s fuzzy.’ ‘Fuzzy? You’re getting soft.’ ‘All those reviews read like discount novels, Roach.’ ‘Why the hell would I write reviews?’ ‘Same reason you do anything—to feel something.’ He smacks your chest, hard enough to make you look up. ‘Yujin broke you. Plain as day.’ Your throat tightens. The name alone feels like a switchblade. ‘It’s not like that… anymore.’ ‘Sure looks like it.’ ‘How’s that?’ ‘You’re on the leaderboard in this bar. They’re bleeding you dry, and you’re letting them.’ You don’t argue. Just take another sip. ‘Don’t deserve this money anyway.’ ‘Then give it elsewhere. There’s an orphanage across the street.’ ‘Don’t play saint with me.’ ‘It’s just a block away.’ ‘Fuck off.’ ‘Just a block—’ ‘Fine.’ You press your glass against the table, like the condensation might hold you steady. ‘I’ll think about it.’ Roach grins like he’s won something. ‘Ever watch her show?’ he asks, tilting his flask toward you. You hesitate. ‘Not really.’ ‘Bullshit. Saw you yesterday. That rain scene.’ Your grip tightens around the glass. The rain scene. You were there. Back when “we” still meant something. Holding her coat between takes, watching her shiver between scripted heartbreaks. ‘She always cried pretty,’ you murmur. ‘Even back then.’ Roach nods, takes a sip. ‘Tell me about it.’ You do. You don’t mean to, but you do. ‘Nothing to tell,’ you start. ‘I was nobody. She was becoming somebody. Simple math.’ ‘That’s not what I heard.’ ‘Yeah? What’d you hear?’ ‘That you proposed. Night before Seoul.’ The beer sours in your mouth. ‘Who told you that?’ ‘Does it matter? True though, isn’t it?’ You let out something that’s supposed to be a laugh. ‘Got the ring from my grandmother. Vintage Tiffany, art deco. Yujin loved vintage.’ ‘And?’ ‘And she cried. Not the pretty kind.’ You see it now, clear as the night it happened—her shaking hands, the way she pressed the box back into yours like it burned. ‘Said she couldn’t. Said she wasn't ready. I guess that was the foreshadowing: she broke up with me just a week later.’ ‘A choice between you and fame?’ ‘Between real life and the life she’d dreamed of since she was six. No contest, really.’ Roach doesn’t speak for a while. Just stares at the bar like it’s holding the right words. ‘Where’s the ring now?’ You smirk, but it tastes like blood. ‘Pawned it. Bought a week of blackout drunk and a ticket anywhere else.’ Roach exhales, long and low. His eyes flick to your watch, but nothing gold can compare to what you lost. ‘And here you are.’ ‘Here I am.’ Bass pulses through the walls, someone screams about love on the dance floor, and the bartender slides another drink toward you like it might fix anything. Roach downs the rest of his flask, claps a hand on your shoulder. ‘Well. Good luck with that. Got a missus waiting. Let me know when you find one.’ You don’t look at him. ‘We might never speak again.’ ‘Doubt that.’ A pat on the back, one final grin. Then he’s gone. You scoff. If ever. And you leave.

—

Seoul in summer is a thing that sticks. To your skin, to your thoughts, to the spaces between breath. Heat rises off the pavement, thick and wet, settling in your lungs like something permanent.

The city is wide awake, but softer at this hour. Convenience store fluorescents hover in the humidity, blurring edges. Subway vents exhale something metallic, ghostly. The crickets don’t know they live in a city. They just keep singing.

You walk. Not home, not anywhere. Just walking, because it’s better than stopping.

Stopping means remembering.

Every street corner holds a version of her. The Yujin who stole fries off your plate, who could sleep through a fireworks show, who once convinced you that every ice cream cone tasted better if it was half-melted. She’s there, tucked into flickering billboards, frozen mid-laugh on subway ads, threaded between the chords of songs you don’t mean to hear.

You take the long way. Five, six corners. Maybe more.

Then the bus stop appears.

Half-forgotten. Almost overgrown. A bench with its paint peeling like old skin, weeds curling around the edges like they might swallow it whole.

You sit. Elbows on knees. Hands folded. Thinking. Not thinking.

The streetlight buzzes. The air is thick with waiting.

Then—

A shadow falls across your feet.

A shift in pressure. Not wind, just something. The moment before a storm, before impact, before memory collides with the present and makes a mess of everything.

‘What are you doing here?’ Soft. Not a blade, not a wound. Just a question that lands like an old habit.

You don’t need to look. But you do. Because some habits don’t break.

Yujin stands there, framed by sodium light, hands tucked into the pockets of a hoodie that looks too soft to exist. No cameras. No entourage. Just her.

And god—just her is enough to knock the breath out of your chest.

‘Hiding?’ Soft. Like the question isn’t a question, just something to fill the space between heartbeats.

You don’t look up right away. You know the shape of her. You’ve spent years knowing it. The way she stands, weight slightly to one side. The way her voice lands, gentle, edged with something only you ever got to hear.

But you look anyway. Because it’s her. And some rules of the universe don’t change.

Yujin.

Not the Yujin on billboards, the Yujin on magazine covers, the Yujin who belongs to a nation that adores her.

Just Yujin.

Hair a little messy. Hoodie swallowing her frame. Hands tucked into the sleeves like she’s bracing against a cold that doesn’t exist.

And—god. Her eyes. Still warm. Still familiar. Still Dunsan-dong in their quiet, endless way.

She tilts her head. Smiles. The kind of smile that makes you feel seventeen again, like you just said something stupid and brilliant in the same breath.

‘Hiding?’ she repeats, softer this time.

‘Hiding implies I have something to hide from.’

‘And do you?’

A pause. Then—

‘Maybe.’

A hum. A small shift in weight. Then she sits. Just like that. No asking, no hesitation. Just sits, close enough that her knee brushes yours, like muscle memory, like the past hasn’t completely given up on you yet.

The air smells like street food, like summer. Somewhere, a neon sign hums its last flickers before shutting off for the night.

She bumps her shoulder against yours.

‘Missed you, you know.’

You turn your head. Blink. She’s watching you, like the sentence wasn’t a trap, wasn’t something heavy. Just… true.

You swallow.

‘Yeah?’

She nods, pulling her sleeves over her hands. ‘Yeah.’

The night stretches. Not awkward. Not tight with something unspoken. Just easy. Just… there.

‘How’s life?’ she asks.

‘Oh, you know. Full of bad choices.’

‘Any good ones?’

‘Still deciding.’

She breathes out a laugh, soft.

You glance at her, at the curve of her nose, the way she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear like she’s done since she was a kid.

‘You look…’ she starts, then tilts her head.

‘What?’

‘The same.’

You huff a laugh. ‘That’s a lie.’

‘No.’ She nudges your knee again. ‘You’re just… still you.’

And it’s so simple, the way she says it. So casual, like she hasn’t just pulled the breath from your lungs.

You don’t answer. Not yet.

She leans in slightly.

‘Still drink too much coffee?’

‘Still sleep through earthquakes?’

Her grin widens. ‘Still remember that?’

‘Some things don’t change.’

‘Some do.’

A small shift. A glance. A fraction closer.

And the city moves around you, oblivious.

But you?

You stay still.

You stay here.

Yujin sighs, long and soft, tilting her head back, watching the streetlight cast flickering halos through the humidity.

‘Seoul’s different at night,’ she murmurs. ‘Seoul’s different all the time.’

She hums, half in agreement, half just because she likes the sound. You forgot about that—the way she used to make tiny noises when she was thinking, little musical notes that filled in the gaps between words.

‘Feels slower now,’ she says. ‘That’s just you.’ She turns to you, eyes warm. ‘Yeah?’ You nod. ‘Everything moves too fast for you these days. You forgot what slow feels like.’ A small smile. ‘Remind me?’ Something tightens in your chest. She doesn’t mean it like that. Doesn’t mean it like anything more than what it is—a quiet moment, a quiet ask. But still. You shift, leaning back against the bench, stretching your arms across the top like you own the night. Like it doesn’t own you. ‘Alright,’ you say. ‘Lesson one: sitting still.’ She huffs a laugh but follows your lead, sinking deeper into the wood, legs stretching out. Her foot knocks against yours. ‘Like this?’ ‘Yeah.’ A beat. ‘And then what?’ ‘Nothing.’ She raises a brow. ‘That’s it?’ ‘That’s it.’ She exhales, slow and thoughtful. ‘You always made things feel easy,’ she says, voice quiet, like she’s afraid of disrupting the moment. You glance at her, and she’s not looking at you—just at the night, at the city, at something only she can see. ‘Not sure that’s true,’ you admit. ‘No, it is.’ She pulls her sleeves over her hands again, eyes flicking toward you. ‘You made me feel easy. Like… breathing.’ Something inside you curls at the edges. ‘Yujin—’ ‘It’s okay.’ She shakes her head, soft, smiling like she’s telling you not to carry it too heavily. ‘I’m just remembering.’ The city hums around you both. A distant motorbike rumbles past. Somewhere, an old radio plays a song you half recognize. You look at her again. Hair slightly mussed. Eyes bright, soft, familiar. Like she was never gone at all. She shifts, tucking one leg under the other, hands still hidden in her sleeves.

‘You ever think about calling?’ Her voice is light. Not demanding. Not accusing. Just... wondering. You let out a slow breath. ‘You ever think about picking up?’ A small laugh, exhale-soft. ‘Yeah.’ You glance at her, and she’s already looking at you, chin propped against her knee, smile barely-there but real. ‘But I figured you needed time,’ she says. You swallow. ‘Did I?’ Her fingers twitch against the fabric of her hoodie. ‘I don’t know. Maybe I just told myself that so I wouldn’t call.’ The honesty knocks something loose in your chest. You don’t say anything for a moment. The city moves around you both, neon humming against the wet pavement, the smell of night air thick with too many things. Then, quietly— ‘Three years is a long time, Yujin.’ ‘I know.’

She shifts, slow, careful, like she’s turning over a fragile thought in her hands. ‘But I never wanted it to be forever.’ Your throat tightens. You want to ask her then why did you leave like it was? But you don’t. Because you already know the answer. Because she was always meant for something bigger. Because she was scared, because you were scared, because maybe—just maybe—back then, love wasn’t enough to hold everything steady.

Instead, you say, ‘You look good, you know.’ Her lips curve, soft. ‘You do too.’ You scoff, tipping your head back against the bench. ‘Liar.’ ‘I never lied to you.’ That shuts you up. For a moment, you let it sink in. The weight of her voice, the way she says it like it’s a fact, like it’s something you should’ve never doubted. Then, softer— ‘You really never called?’ she asks. ‘I really never called.’ She doesn’t look away. ‘Why?’ You inhale. Let the air sit heavy in your lungs. ‘Because I thought you’d be better off without me.’ The words land, quiet and unpolished. Yujin blinks. Then— ‘You idiot.’ And then she’s moving, shifting closer, her fingers finding your sleeve, gripping just slightly, just enough for you to feel her there, to feel her warmth against the fabric. ‘Do you know how many times I almost showed up at your door?’ she says, voice soft but steady. ‘How many times I wanted to tell you that I was still here? That I—’ She stops. Exhales. Looks away, looks back. ‘That I missed you?’ You swallow. She’s close now. Not quite touching, but nearly. The air between you charged, something slow, something waiting. Your heart does something complicated in your chest. ‘You missed me?’ you murmur. Yujin smiles, small, fond. ‘Of course, you idiot.’ The city hums. The night exhales. And you— You don’t move away. Yujin stays close. Close enough for you to count her breaths, to feel the warmth of her body radiating through the space between you. You should say something. You should do something. Instead, you just sit there. And Yujin—Yujin lets you.

Her fingers stay curled into your sleeve, loose but certain. Like she’s testing gravity, checking to see if you’ll stay, if you’ll shift, if you’ll remind her that you’re real. She tilts her head, watching you the way she used to—like she’s memorizing you, like she’s trying to fit you back into the version of her life where you were always supposed to be. And maybe she is. Maybe she’s wondering how you look the same but feel different. Maybe she’s cataloging the way your shoulders have set a little heavier, the way your mouth curves in thought before you speak. Or maybe she’s just looking. Like she never stopped. ‘So,’ she says, voice light, careful. ‘What now?’ A question too big for this moment. A question you can’t answer, not yet. So you do what you always do. You deflect. You lean back, arms stretching across the top of the bench, looking at her out of the corner of your eye. ‘Shouldn’t I be asking you that?’ She lifts a brow. ‘You were always the planner.’ She snorts. ‘Hardly.’ ‘Oh? I seem to remember someone who had color-coded schedules for summer break.’ ‘That was one summer.’

‘Still counts.’ She exhales a laugh, tipping her head back against the bench, looking up at the sky. ‘Okay, fine. Maybe I was a little obsessed with plans.’ ‘A little?’

She shoots you a look, but it’s all warmth. All familiarity. ‘You liked it,’ she says. ‘It was efficient. It was cute.’

You hesitate. Just slightly. But she catches it. Of course she does. Her smile softens.

‘You can say it, you know.’ You tilt your head, pretending to be confused. ‘Say what?’ ‘That you missed me too.’

Something about the way she says it makes your stomach pull tight. Not teasing. Not fishing. Just true. You turn back to the street, watching the way the neon catches in the puddles, turning them into something like galaxies.

‘You already know.’ Yujin hums. ‘I want to hear it anyway.’ You exhale.

Three years of distance. Three years of silence. Three years of trying to unwrite the part of your life where she belonged.

‘Yeah,’ you say, voice quiet. ‘I missed you.’

Yujin doesn’t say anything right away. Then—

Her hand slides fully into your sleeve, warm against your wrist. A small thing. A quiet thing. But it’s enough.

‘Good,’ she murmurs.

You sit there like that for a while. Neither of you moving. Neither of you pulling away. And for the first time in years—

The silence between you doesn’t feel like an ending. It feels like a beginning.

Her hand stays there. Not gripping. Not holding. Just resting, warm against your wrist, like it belongs there. Like it never left.

You let out a slow breath. Three years. Three whole years. And somehow, this—her, the quiet press of her skin against yours, the way she’s just here—feels so natural it makes your ribs ache.

‘What are we doing, Yujin?’

Soft. Not accusing. Just—just needing to know if she feels it too, if this night is supposed to mean what you think it does.

She tilts her head, slow. Her hair slips over her shoulder, catching the streetlight in its strands. ‘Talking?’

A small, careful smile.

You huff. ‘Is that what this is?’

She hums, shifts a little closer, foot knocking against yours. ‘I don’t know. Feels nice, though.’

Nice. Nice, like it isn’t everything. Nice, like you aren’t suddenly breathing her in again, like your body hasn’t been on high alert since the moment she walked into your orbit tonight.

You roll your wrist slightly, just enough so that your fingers brush hers. She doesn’t pull away.

The city hums. The night exhales. And then—

‘Do you want to go for a walk?’ she asks.

It’s an easy question. A simple one. But something about it knots itself into your chest, makes your throat tight. Because that’s always how it was with her. Yujin never asked for big things. Just small ones, one after another, adding up to something impossible to resist.

Do you want to get ice cream? Do you want to climb onto the roof? Do you want to watch the rain with me? Do you want to stay?

And you had always said yes.

You glance at her now, at the way she’s watching you, hopeful but not pushing, patient in the way only she could ever be. A walk. A moment. A step toward something you don’t quite know how to name.

You exhale, slow. Then you stand.

‘Lead the way.’

Her smile—god. Her smile.

She slips her hand fully into yours, easy, thoughtless, like muscle memory. Like no time has passed at all.

And you— You let her.

The street hums around you, the last traces of night shifting toward something softer. The vendors have mostly packed up, but the scent of grilled meat and frying oil still lingers, floating warm through the thick summer air.

Yujin’s hand stays in yours. Not tight. Not hesitant. Just there. Like it was always meant to be.

You walk without direction. Just moving, side by side, the way you used to. Her footsteps match yours easily, a quiet sync neither of you planned.

‘Where are we going?’ you ask, voice low.

‘Nowhere,’ she says.

It makes you smile.

A few years ago, that answer would have annoyed her. Yujin, the girl with color-coded schedules, with plans so detailed they might as well have been carved into stone. But now she just says it like it’s enough. Like it’s the whole point.

She swings your hands slightly, absentminded. ‘You always walked like this,’ she murmurs.

‘Like what?’

She shrugs. ‘Like the city doesn’t own you.’

You breathe in, slow. The neon of old convenience stores, the occasional flickering of a streetlamp. ‘I guess I never let it.’

She hums. ‘I did.’

You glance at her. ‘Yujin—’

‘It’s okay,’ she cuts in, smiling. ‘I wanted to. I just—’ She exhales, presses her lips together for a moment, then shakes her head. ‘I forgot how good it feels to walk like this. Without thinking.’

You squeeze her hand just slightly.

She notices. Her thumb brushes the edge of your palm. Not an accident. Not a mistake.

The city stretches ahead of you, quiet. ‘You ever think about coming back?’ you ask.

She doesn’t answer right away. Her fingers tighten around yours, just a little.

‘I used to dream about it,’ she says, voice softer now. ‘I’d wake up thinking I was still in Dunsan-dong. That I’d step outside and find you waiting, like always.’

Your throat goes tight. She turns her head, studies your face in the flickering light.

‘But I was scared,’ she says, gentle. ‘What if you were different? What if I was?’

You don’t look away. ‘And now?’

A breath. A small, small smile. ‘I think I was scared of the wrong thing.’

Your heart stumbles.

She slows, pulling you toward the edge of the sidewalk, toward a tiny park that barely qualifies as a park—a patch of grass, a few trees. The kind of place nobody notices. She stops. Turns to face you.

You should say something. You should say everything.

But she beats you to it.

‘You were always the best part of my life,’ she says, voice steady, firm, like she’s decided something for herself.

Your pulse jumps. ‘Yujin—’

‘I just needed you to know that.’

She’s looking at you like she’s bracing for impact. Like she’s not sure what you’ll do with this thing she’s handing you.

So you take it. Carefully, quietly, the way she deserves.

You lift your hand—the one she’s not holding—and tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. Her breath catches.

‘Yeah?’ you murmur.

She nods.

And then, softer—

‘I think you were always mine.’

You don’t know who moves first. Maybe it doesn’t matter. Because the next thing you know, her hands are on your face, and your mouth is against hers, and the whole city dissolves around you.

She tastes like everything you remember. Like fine tea and something sweeter, something that was always just hers. She presses closer, hands slipping down to your collar, holding you there like you might disappear.

You won’t. Not this time.

When you pull back, she’s breathing fast, forehead resting against yours. You smile.

‘Still walk like the city doesn’t own me?’ you murmur.

She laughs, breathless, and pulls you back in.

Yujin kisses like a memory you never let go of. Like muscle memory, like breathing. Like the space between your ribs was always meant to make room for her.

She pulls back, just enough for her nose to brush yours. Her breath is warm, uneven. Her hands are still curled into the collar of your shirt, holding, gripping, keeping.

You open your eyes. She’s already looking at you.

Not like the girl on the billboards, not like the actress on screen. Just Yujin. Soft, real, right here.

Her lips are pink and kiss-bitten. She blinks slowly, dazed, like she’s trying to piece together what just happened. And then—

Then she laughs.

Not a big laugh. Not loud. Just this tiny, incredulous little sound. Like she can’t believe it. Like she can’t believe you.

‘What?’ you murmur.

She shakes her head, smiling, fingers still resting against your collar. ‘I don’t know.’

‘That’s a first.’

She huffs. ‘Shut up.’

‘Make me.’

A flicker of something in her eyes. Amusement. Mischief. Something else.

She tilts her head, considering. Then, in one slow movement, she leans in—

Not kissing you, not quite. Just close enough that her lips barely graze yours. Close enough that you can feel her smile.

‘Tempting,’ she murmurs.

Your heart stumbles.

But then she pulls away, slipping her fingers from your shirt, stepping back onto the sidewalk, like she’s giving you space to breathe.

You don’t need it. But you let her.

The city hums around you, the distant rumble of a car engine, the occasional flicker of neon against damp pavement.

You watch as Yujin tilts her head toward the sky, stretching her arms out, exhaling like she’s just remembered how.

‘I forgot what this feels like,’ she admits.

‘What?’

‘Not thinking.’ She lets her hands drop to her sides, flexing her fingers. ‘Not planning every second of my life in advance. Just… being.’

You shift, watching her.

‘I don’t think I’ve done that in years,’ she says.

A pause. Then, softly—

‘Stay with me.’

Your heart does something complicated in your chest.

She looks over, a little hesitant now, like she’s not sure how the words sound out loud.

‘I mean—’ she starts, but you shake your head.

‘Okay.’

Her lips part slightly.

Like she expected you to hesitate. Like she thought she’d have to convince you.

You step closer. Just enough that the space between you disappears again.

‘Okay?’ she echoes.

You nod.

Then, quieter—‘Anywhere.’

Yujin’s face softens.

And god, it’s so easy, the way she looks at you. Like you are something known. Like she is something understood.

She lets out a small, breathy laugh, reaching up to brush her thumb against the corner of your mouth.

‘You’re so stupid,’ she murmurs.

‘You love it.’

‘Yeah,’ she says, shaking her head. ‘Yeah, I do.’

She slips her hand back into yours, fingers threading together like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Like she never left. Like you never let her.

And the city stretches ahead, wide open, waiting.

You should take a taxi. That would be the smart thing. A quiet, unremarkable way to disappear from the city before someone notices Korea’s brightest star walking hand-in-hand with someone who isn’t famous, isn’t scripted, isn’t anything but hers.

But Yujin shakes her head.

‘Not yet,’ she says.

So you walk.

She keeps close, hood pulled low, fingers curled into yours. The streets are thinning out, the city exhaling into its quieter hours. The air smells like fried oil and pavement, the ghosts of dinner service still hanging in the air.

She bumps into you once, then twice.

‘Are you always this bad at walking?’ you ask.

She grins, breathless. ‘I think I forgot how to do it with company.’

Company. Company.

You’re not sure if you’re relieved of that; that she was too busy to even meander through lazy lovers.

You squeeze her hand. She squeezes back.

Your place isn’t far, but when you reach it—when Yujin stops at the entrance, tilting her head back to take it all in—something shifts.

‘Huh.’

That’s all she says.

You fight a smirk. ‘Huh?’

She makes a small noise, arms crossed, like she’s trying not to look impressed.

‘You kept acting like you lived in a shoebox.’

You raise a brow. ‘Did I?’

‘Yeah.’ She gestures vaguely to the high-rise, the massive glass windows catching the city lights. ‘I was expecting something small. Modest. Maybe a bachelor pad with an ugly couch and a tragic little coffee table.’

You scoff. ‘What do you take me for?’

‘A very humble man, apparently.’

You shake your head, leading her inside.

The elevator is empty. Too bright. Too quiet.

She rocks on her heels. ‘So, do I get the grand tour?’

‘I don’t know,’ you say, pretending to think. ‘You might not be able to handle it. Very overwhelming.’

She elbows you in the side, laughing. ‘Shut up.’

The doors slide open.

She steps out first, into the hallway, waiting while you fish your keys from your pocket.

She glances over. ‘I still can’t believe you live here.’

‘Why?’

She shrugs. ‘It’s just weird.’

‘Weird how?’

She scrunches her nose, like she doesn’t quite know how to explain it. ‘I don’t know. You just never cared about stuff like this.’

You unlock the door.

She steps inside.

And immediately—

‘Oh my god.’

You roll your eyes, shutting the door behind you. ‘What now?’

She turns in a slow circle, taking everything in. The high ceilings, the floor-to-ceiling windows, the soft lighting that spills across the polished wood.

‘Are you kidding?’ she says, spinning toward you, mouth open in faux outrage. ‘This is beautiful.’

You snort. ‘What, you thought I was sleeping in a broom closet?’

‘Yes.’

‘Wow. Faith in me is strong, I see.’

She grins, moving toward the living room. ‘No, it’s just—’ She shakes her head, fingers brushing over the back of the sleek, perfectly chosen couch. ‘You were always so… comfortable with less. I figured, even if you had money, you’d still live like some struggling artist in a shoebox.’

You scoff, kicking off your shoes. ‘What does that even mean?’

‘Like, I don’t know, sleeping on a mattress on the floor. A single sad chair. Stacks of books everywhere.’

You raise a brow. ‘So your image of me is basically a broke philosophy major?’

She shrugs. ‘It suited you.’

You exhale a laugh.

‘But this,’ she gestures around again, ‘this is… grown-up.’

‘Was I not grown-up before?’

She grins. ‘No.’

‘Wow.’

‘But,’ she continues, stepping toward the floor-to-ceiling windows, where the city spills out in front of her like a living, breathing thing, ‘I like it. It feels like you.’

You pause.

Not expensive. Not fancy. Not over-the-top.

It feels like you.

You scratch the back of your neck, looking away.

‘Yeah?’

She nods. ‘Yeah.’

She turns back to the glass, resting her fingers lightly against the frame. ‘You can see the river from here.’

You step up beside her.

It’s a view you see every day, but somehow, with Yujin here, it looks different.

She breathes in. ‘It’s nice.’

You breathe her in.

‘Yeah,’ you murmur. ‘It is.’

She turns.

And then she kisses you.

Not careful. Not planned.

Just Yujin.

She tilts her head, presses up slightly on her toes, and meets your mouth with something warm, something easy.

It’s not perfect.

She misses, just slightly. Laughs into the kiss. Her hands fumble for your collar but find your wrist instead.

But god—

It’s real.

You breathe her in. Hold her waist. Feel her fingers curl into the fabric of your shirt like she’s trying to pull you closer, closer.

She hums against your lips, smiling.

You grin. ‘You missed.’

She exhales a laugh. ‘Shut up.’

‘Make me.’

She does.

The kisses are clumsy, messy, soft. The kind that happens when two people are trying to remember, trying to relearn each other in real-time.

She tugs at your shirt.

You trip over the edge of the couch.

She gasps.

You land in a heap, tangled together, breathless.

Silence.

Then—

She laughs.

Bright, full, head tipped back against your chest.

You groan, letting your head fall back against the cushions. ‘Unbelievable.’

She grins, shifting so she’s straddling your lap. ‘I don’t know, I think it’s fitting.’

‘Oh?’

‘Yeah.’ She leans in, pressing her forehead against yours. ‘Clumsy love suits us.’

Your breath catches.

Then, softer—

‘Yeah,’ you murmur. ‘It does.’

She cups your face, fingers warm against your jaw.

The city hums outside, unaware.

And you—

You stay here.

With her.

You don’t know who says it first.

Maybe her. Maybe you. Maybe neither of you—maybe it’s just implied, wrapped up in the way she’s still sitting in your lap, fingers absently tracing patterns over your collarbone, skin warm against yours.

But at some point, between the teasing and the breathless little ohs that slip between kisses, it just becomes a fact.

You’re both too warm.

Too sticky from the night air, from walking too long through humid Seoul streets, from the thick summer heat pressing against the glass of your windows.

‘Shower,’ she murmurs.

You’re not sure if it’s a request or a declaration, but either way—

‘Yeah,’ you say.

And then you’re moving.

Yujin laughs when you lift her off the couch, stumbling slightly as you navigate through the apartment. She doesn’t let go, arms slung loosely around your neck, breath warm against your ear.

‘Are you always this dramatic?’ she asks.

‘You love it.’

She hums, not denying it.

The bathroom is bright, too bright, the kind of brightness that makes everything feel a little more real than you’re prepared for. But Yujin doesn’t hesitate—just pulls her hoodie over her head, shakes her hair out, steps closer like she’s done this a thousand times.

Like she’s never left.

You watch as she turns toward the mirror, tilting her head slightly.

‘Haven’t been in a place like this in a while,’ she muses.

‘A bathroom?’

She snorts, shoving you lightly. ‘No, this kind of bathroom.’ She waves a hand vaguely, indicating the open shower, the marble walls, the soft lighting. ‘It’s fancy.’

You roll your eyes, reaching for the faucet. ‘You act like you don’t stay in five-star hotels every week.’

‘That’s different.’

‘How?’

She steps behind you, pressing her chin against your shoulder. ‘This feels like you.’

You don’t know what to say to that.

So you don’t say anything at all.

The water warms between your fingers, steam rising slowly.

Yujin hums, stepping forward, slipping her fingers under the hem of your shirt. ‘Come on.’

You don’t move.

She looks up, amused. ‘What, suddenly shy?’

You scoff, shaking your head, but your pulse jumps when her fingers skate lightly against your stomach.

She grins. ‘Cute.’

‘What is?’

‘Three years apart, and you’re still so you.’

You exhale a laugh, finally pulling your shirt over your head. She does the same, tossing her clothes into a messy pile, and then—

Then it’s just you and her, standing too close, bare skin meeting for the first time in what feels like forever.

Her breath catches.

You hear it. Feel it.

And god—

She’s so beautiful.

All golden skin and soft curves and the kind of warmth that could make the whole city feel like home.

She watches you, expectant, waiting.

You don’t make her wait long.

You reach for her—

And she lets you.

Lets you pull her in, lets you kiss her slow, deep, careful, like you’re memorizing her all over again.

She sighs into your mouth, hands trailing up your arms, curling into your hair.

‘Come on,’ she whispers.

And this time—

You listen.

The water is hot, almost too hot, but neither of you care.

Yujin steps under first, exhaling as the warmth rolls over her skin, tilting her head back so that her hair darkens, slick against her shoulders.

You’re distracted.

Too distracted.

Because—

Because she’s standing there, all bare skin and soft curves and Yujin, looking at you like she already knows exactly what you’re thinking.

‘Are you going to keep staring?’ she teases.

You swallow. ‘Maybe.’

She laughs, stepping forward, reaching for the shampoo.

You should move. Should help. Should do something.

But instead, you just—

Just watch.

The way she hums under her breath, the way she lathers the shampoo into her hair, fingers massaging small circles against her scalp.

You’re so lost in it, in her, that you don’t even realize she’s finished—

Until she suddenly turns, tilts her head, and smiles.

‘Come here.’

You don’t hesitate.

She tugs you forward, fingers threading through your hair, working shampoo into your scalp like it’s something sacred, something worth taking her time with.

And god—

God, you forgot how good this feels.

Forgot what it was like to just be, to just exist under someone’s hands, to let yourself be cared for in a way that doesn’t feel heavy, doesn’t feel like a transaction.

Her fingers move slowly, carefully, her nails scraping lightly against your skin.

You close your eyes.

Breathe.

Let yourself lean into it.

Let yourself lean into her.

And she—

She lets you.

She’s still rinsing when you reach for her.

‘What—’

You shush her, hands skimming up her sides, guiding her under the water’s warmth.

She lets you.

Lets you tilt her chin slightly, lets you press a kiss just below her ear, lets you work your fingers into her hair like she’s something holy.

Her breath catches.

You hear it, feel it, let it sink into your bones.

‘Close your eyes,’ you murmur.

She hesitates—just a fraction of a second—then obeys.

The water slides down her face, over her lips, down the elegant curve of her throat.

You watch, transfixed.

Then you move.

You reach for the shampoo, work it between your hands, and Yujin’s confused—’Again?’—but when your fingers find her scalp—

She melts.

You don’t think you’ve ever seen her this undone.

Head tilted slightly, mouth parted, body soft beneath your touch.

She hums, a small, quiet sound, like she’s just remembered something she’d long forgotten.

You barely breathe.

Just keep going, keep moving, keep tracing slow, deliberate circles, letting your fingers tangle through her hair like it’s something sacred.

Because it is.

Because she is.

Yujin, the girl who never stopped moving, who never let herself stop thinking, who planned every step of her life down to the last decimal—

She’s still now.

Still, and warm, and yours.

You rinse the shampoo carefully, letting the water do the work. Your fingers trail down, down, past her neck, past her shoulders, past the delicate slip of her collarbone.

She sighs.

Leans into you.

Lets herself fall.

And god—

You’ll catch her.

Every time.

You reach for the soap next, work it slowly over her back, over her arms, over every inch of her that you can touch.

She exhales, barely above a whisper.

‘Feels nice.’

You smile.

‘Good.’

You don’t rush.

Not when she’s like this. Not when she’s letting you do this, letting you love her with something as simple as this.

Your hands trail lower, down her spine, over the dip of her waist. She shifts slightly, breath hitching just a little.

You pause.

Press a kiss to her shoulder.

She shivers, but not from the cold.

‘This okay?’ you murmur.

Her fingers curl around your wrist, stopping you.

For a moment, you think she’s going to pull away—

But instead—

She guides your hand lower.

Presses it against the soft warmth of her stomach.

Holds it there.

She exhales, slow and deep. ‘Don’t stop.’ You don’t. God, you don’t. You let your hands move slowly, carefully, exploring her the way you’ve always wanted to—like she’s something to learn, something to understand. And Yujin— Yujin lets you.

She lets you wash away the last three years, lets you trace something new into her skin, lets you relearn every inch of her with soap and steam and careful, careful hands.

She turns in your arms, pressing her forehead against yours. The water slips between you, catching at the spaces where you don’t quite meet. She’s smiling. Soft. Sweet. Yours. You cup her face. She leans into it, eyes fluttering closed. For a long, long moment, neither of you move. You just stay. Right here. Right now. Like this. Like always. Then— She opens her eyes. And she kisses you.

The water trails down her spine in slow, careful rivers, catching in the dips of her back, rolling down the curve of her waist. You follow its path with your fingers, mapping her skin like something sacred, something known.

She doesn’t move. Just lets you touch. Lets you care.

You start with her back, palms gliding down the slope of her shoulders, the delicate stretch of muscle beneath warm, damp skin. Your thumbs press gently into the knots there, kneading, coaxing, working out tension she probably doesn’t even realize she’s holding.

She exhales, long and slow, tipping her head forward. ‘Mmm,’ she murmurs, voice thick with something close to sleep. ‘That feels good.’ You smile. Press your thumbs in a little deeper. Let your hands drift lower, following the curve of her spine, tracing each ridge, each shadow, each memory pressed into muscle. You smooth circles over her lower back, fingers pressing into the dimples there, trailing down— She shivers. Your hands pause. ‘Ticklish?’ you murmur.

She huffs a quiet laugh, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. ‘A little.’ You grin, but you don’t tease. Not now. Not when she’s letting you do this, letting you love her in the simplest, softest way. You reach for the soap, work it between your hands until it foams, and then— Then you really start. You start with her arms, sliding your palms over smooth, damp skin, tracing the delicate lines of muscle beneath. You lift her wrist, turning it over, running your fingers along the pulse point there. Her breath catches. You watch, mesmerized, as water beads along the inside of her forearm, trailing down to the soft bend of her elbow. ‘You’re so careful,’ she murmurs. You hum. ‘You deserve careful.’ Something flickers across her face. Something soft. She lets her fingers curl around yours. You smile. Run your hands over her stomach next, tracing the subtle rise and fall of each breath, the warmth of her, the realness of her. She shifts slightly, the movement pressing her closer, pressing skin to skin, pressing warmth to warmth. You exhale. Let your hands drift lower, over the curve of her waist, the dip of her hip, the length of her thigh. You take your time. Because she lets you. Because she wants you to. You kneel then, water rolling down your shoulders, down your back, pooling against your skin. You press your lips to her hip. She exhales, shaky, fingers threading into your hair. ‘You don’t have to—’ ‘I want to.’ You slide your hands over her legs, smoothing your palms down her thighs, over her calves, down to her ankles. She watches, breathing slow. You work the soap into her skin, rubbing warmth into her, sliding your thumbs up the backs of her knees, over the gentle curve of her calves. She sighs. Soft. Deep. Content. You let your fingers skim up again, over the dip of her waist, the gentle swell of her stomach, up— Up— To her chest. Her breath stutters. You pause. Look up. She’s already looking at you. Eyes dark, lips parted, cheeks flushed from the heat of the water. She lifts her hand, pressing it against yours. Guiding you. ‘Go on,’ she whispers. And you do. God, you do.

You cup her, trace the delicate slope of her, run your thumbs over warm, wet skin, over the soft peaks of her breasts, watching the way she reacts, the way she shivers under your touch.

Her lips part.

Her fingers tighten in your hair.

‘You’re—’ she starts, voice barely a breath, barely a sound. ‘You’re so—’

You stand.

Tilt her chin up.

Kiss her.

Not hungry. Not desperate.

Just deep.

Just certain.

Just her.

And when you pull back, pressing your forehead against hers, she exhales a laugh.

‘This is dangerous,’ she murmurs.

You smile. ‘Yeah?’

‘Yeah.’

She lifts her arms, looping them around your neck, pulling you in, pressing against you, warm and wet and perfect.

And you—

You let her.

The steam rises. The water beads against her skin, gliding down slow, tracing paths over the soft slopes of her body, catching at the delicate points where warmth meets shadow, where light bends just so, where she is golden and bronze and endless.

You follow it.

With your eyes first, then with your hands.

Fingertips grazing along the soft valley of her stomach, skimming over her ribs, pressing gently into the places where she is most tender, most real. You watch the way the droplets gather at her collarbone, suspended for just a moment before slipping down, down, disappearing into the delicate dip between her breasts.

It feels unfair, almost, that something as simple as water gets to touch her like this before you do.

So you take its place.

Your lips find her collarbone first, brushing against the damp skin, warm and reverent. She exhales, tilting her head slightly, letting you have her like this, letting you take your time.

You do.

You always do.

Your mouth trails lower, following the path of the water, tracing its descent. You press a kiss against the gentle swell of her chest, right where her heart beats beneath, steady, certain, alive. You linger there, letting the moment stretch, letting yourself feel it, letting yourself remember what it’s like to love someone in a way that has nothing to do with time or distance or the years lost in between.

She breathes in, slow and deep, her fingers threading through your hair, nails scraping lightly against your scalp. Not pulling. Just holding.

And then you go lower.

The water clings to her, catching at the nipples, glistening like liquid gold against the dark-bronze warmth of her nipples. It drips, slow and deliberate, down the soft curve of her, over the places where she is most tender, most beautiful.

You chase it.

Your lips press to her sternum, then lower, following the water as it rolls over the swell of her breast, catching it before it can disappear.

She makes a sound then, a soft, breathy thing, like something breaking open inside her, like something unfolding, something giving way.

And god—

You love her like this.

Love the way she lets you worship her, the way she lets you press your mouth to her skin like it’s something sacred, like it’s something worth kneeling for.

You take your time.

You kiss along the curve of her, letting your tongue flick against her skin, letting yourself taste the warmth of her, the salt, the sweetness, the Yujin of her.

She trembles. Not much. Just a little. Just enough. You kiss the the peak of her breast—nipple, lips closing around the dark, glistening bronze of her, taking her between your lips like something meant to be savored. And she— She gasps. Soft. Sharp. Her fingers tighten in your hair, her back arching just slightly, just enough to press herself further into your mouth, to offer herself up like this, to let you take her in a way that feels like praise. The water slips between you, forgotten, but you don’t need it anymore. She is all the warmth you will ever need. And you— You are drowning. But you don’t mind. Not one bit.

You don’t know how long you stay like this—your mouth on her, your hands tracing slow worship into her skin, your tongue moving against the dark-bronze pebble of her like you’re tasting something sacred, something forbidden, something you never stopped craving.

She doesn’t rush you.

Just feels.

Just lets herself be felt.

Her fingers tremble against your scalp, gripping just enough to keep you grounded, to keep herself from falling apart entirely. The water sings against the tiles, drowning the rest of the world out, leaving just the sound of her soft gasps, her breath catching, the delicate whimper when your teeth graze over where she is most sensitive.

‘You’re—’ she tries, but the sentence breaks, dissolving into something else entirely.

You hum against her, half-smirking, half-dazed.

‘Say that again?’

She exhales sharply. Then, in a voice softer than the steam curling between you—

‘You’re ruining me.’

You smile against her skin.

‘Good.’

But then she’s moving.

Slow, steady, deliberate—sliding her hands down to your jaw, guiding you up, forcing your mouth away from her skin so she can see you again.

You lift your head, meeting her gaze, and god—

She looks like something devotional.

Like she’s burning and melting and breaking and remaking herself in the same moment.

And then she cups your face.

Runs her fingers down the sharp edge of your jaw, down your throat, down the planes of your chest like she’s trying to learn you all over again.

‘My turn,’ she whispers.

You exhale. ‘Yujin—’

But she’s already pressing her lips to your palm.

A slow, wet kiss against the skin there, warm and reverent.

You tense, watching the way she does it—how her mouth lingers, how her breath spills against your hand like she’s praying into it.

Then another.

And another.

Each kiss deliberate. Each one softer than the last.

Your fingers twitch.

Your heart stutters.

And Yujin—

Yujin just smiles.

Like she knows what she’s doing to you.

Like she knows the effect of her lips, her mouth, the heat of her pressing into you like this.

Then she goes lower.

Tracing fire against your wrist. Down to your forearm.

She’s taking her time.

Like she knows what’s coming. Like she wants you to feel every second of it before she even starts.

Softly, she lowers herself to the shower floor, folding her legs beneath her like someone praying—like someone preparing for something sacred. Water cascades over her, tracing the delicate angles of her face, slipping down her shoulders, clinging to her lashes. She doesn’t blink it away.

She looks up at you instead.

‘Just so you know,’ she murmurs, fingers curling around your thigh, pressing just hard enough to make you feel it, ‘I haven’t had this for three years.’

Your breath catches.

‘You poor thing.’

She hums, tilting her head slightly, eyes flickering with something playful, something edged with heat. ‘If only you called.’

Her grip tightens on your shaft—subtle, knowing, cruel.

Your pulse slams into your ribs.

‘Regretting everything as we speak,’ you manage, voice rough, because god—three years of waking up alone, three years of knowing what her body felt like against yours and still having to live without it, three years of not having this—

Yujin presses her lips to your hip, slow, warm, reverent.

‘Don’t,’ she whispers, breath ghosting over your skin. ‘From now on, let’s not waste a single breath.’

And that was that.

No more lost time. No more distance.

She presses another kiss, right below your navel. Cheating.

Your entire body tenses, twitches, a sharp current running through you.

She notices.

She smiles.

‘This is punishment,’ she murmurs.

Your fingers twitch against the tile. ‘For what?’

She looks up at you, lashes wet and mussed and dripping, lips parted just slightly—ruinous.

‘For almost forgetting me.’

Your jaw tightens. ‘That’s blasphemy.’

‘Is it?’

‘Every waking moment, every—’

Her hand slides along your wet shaft. Tight. Destitution incarnate.

You stumble against the back wall.

She grins, a little smug, a little knowing, a little dangerous.

‘I don’t want excuses,’ she says softly.

And then—

Then she presses another kiss, open-mouthed, slow, dangerous, right where on the tip of your cock—collecting whatever desperation you had bottled up.

You let out a slow, shaky breath.

She hums against you. Then, another kiss.

‘This,’ she says, hands curling against your hips, ‘is mine.’

And god, you believe her.

You always have.

Her mouth forms a tight ring right on your tip. She’s sucking everything out of you. Caring not for a single second how much this ruins you, how your knees intend to buckle.

The cool wall slides against your back, and her mouth gentles now—less tight, slower, deliberate. Her lips part, wet and swollen, spit-strung as they glide over the flushed head of you. A slick sound escapes her, obscene and tender. You feel every ridge of her tongue, every warm drag, the way her saliva pools and drips down the length of you. She moans softly, and the vibration travels straight to your gut.

‘Easy,’ you rasp, fingers threading into her hair—not to push, but to feel. To guide her rhythm, your thumb brushing the shell of her ear. ‘Just like that…’

She obeys, but not meekly. Her eyes flick up, dark and gleaming through her lashes, her lips a glistening ring around you. The head glistens under the shower’s spray, spit-slick and ruddy, and when she pulls back just to breathe, a thin strand of saliva stretches between her bottom lip and your tip. She watches you watch it snap.

‘Yujin—’

‘Shhh.’ Her breath ghosts over the wetness she’s made, cooling the heat. ‘Let me.’

Her tongue swipes the slit, slow, too slow, and your hips jerk. She laughs—a soft, husky thing—and catches the bead of precum with her thumb. Holds your gaze as she sucks it clean.

‘All those years,’ she murmurs, nuzzling the inside of your thigh. Her voice is a frayed ribbon. ‘You let this ache. Let it go untouched. Why?’

You tighten your grip in her hair, not harsh, but present. ‘You know why.’

She hums, lips pressing to the vein throbbing beneath the skin. ‘Tell me anyway.’

‘Because it was yours.’ The admission tears free, raw. ‘Even when you weren’t.’

Her breath hitches. For a heartbeat, her composure cracks—lips parting, eyes glassy. Then she surges forward, taking you deep, deep, until your tip brushes the back of her throat. Her nose presses into your pelvis, her cheeks hollowed, and the wetness is overwhelming. Spit spills down her chin, drips onto the shower floor. You watch, wrecked, as she works you with a reverence that borders on worship.

‘God—Yujin—’

She pulls off with a gasp, lips swollen and slick. ‘Look at me.’

You do. Her face is flushed, water clinging to her lashes, hair plastered to her neck. Ruin has never looked so soft.

‘Never again,’ she whispers, palm cradling your jaw. ‘You don’t starve yourself. Not of this. Not of me.’

You nod, breathless, and she smiles—a fragile, aching thing—before bending again. Her mouth is softer now, languid, savoring. Every suck, every lick, pours honey into your veins. You let her take you apart, let her rebuild you, until the world narrows to her lips, her hands, the spit-slick sounds of her devotion.

The climax coils, inevitable—a wildfire in your spine, a tremor in your thighs. You feel it there, the precipice, and your hands fly to her shoulders, gripping hard. ‘Yujin—wait—’

She resists at first, brows furrowed, lips sealed tight around you. But you tug her back gently, your cock slipping from her mouth with a wet pop, her lips swollen, glistening. Her confusion flickers only for a heartbeat before you fist your cock, rough and hurried, and the first hot stripe of release paints her cheek.

She gasps, eyes fluttering shut as the next pulse hits her chin, her throat, the tip catching her collarbone. Thick, pearly streaks splatter across her skin—her eyelids, the bridge of her nose, the bow of her top lip. A ragged moan tears from you as you empty yourself onto her, the mess pooling in the hollow of her throat, dripping down her sternum.

For a moment, she’s perfectly still, breath held, face tilted up as if in prayer. Then her tongue darts out, just once, catching the spill on her lip—not to taste, but to feel, to savor the proof. Her eyes open slowly, lashes sticky, gaze molten.

For a second, she just blinks.

One eye.

The other one is… well.

You watch her process it in real time.

Her lips part slightly, her breath still uneven, chest rising and falling as she takes in exactly what’s happened. Your release is everywhere—everywhere—glossing her cheekbones, slipping down the slope of her throat, pooling in the dip of her collarbone like some kind of offering.

She tilts her head. Blinks again.

‘Oh.’

Then she laughs.

A breathy, disbelieving sound, half-amused, half-are-you-kidding-me?

You’re still pressed against the shower wall, still trying to function, your brain short-circuiting between the mess you’ve made of her and the fact that she’s actually—laughing.

‘You—’ she starts, touching her cheek, then stopping, fingers hesitating before they smear through the mess, ‘—you got it in my hair.’

She looks up at you then, eyes bright, glistening—partly from you, partly from water, partly from the sheer absurdity of this situation.

You swallow, still breathless. ‘Uh.’

She blinks. A slow, lazy flutter of lashes.

Then her mouth quirks.

‘You should’ve warned me, you beast.’

You can’t help it—you laugh, too, scrubbing a hand down your face. ‘I tried. You didn’t stop—’

‘I was busy,’ she huffs, wiping at her cheek again. ‘And now I’m busy. Because look at me.’

You are.

You really, really are.

‘I mean—’ you gesture vaguely to her face, her throat, the trail of evidence marking everywhere she’s been—‘I think it’s a good look.’

She glares.

‘No, seriously. We could brand this. “Dewy Glow” or something. Sell it in high-end skincare stores. “Celebrity Secret.”’

She snorts, shoving at your thigh. ‘You absolute menace.’

And then—

‘Oh, wait.’

She freezes.

Her smile vanishes.

Her expression shifts into something far more serious.

‘Oh no.’

You blink. ‘What?’

She doesn’t say anything.

Just slowly, slowly, slowly raises a hand to her right eye.

You know what’s coming before she even speaks.

‘Oh my god, I can’t see.’

You wheeze. Actually wheeze.

She jabs a finger into your thigh. ‘Don’t—don’t laugh. This is serious. This is—I might never recover—’

‘Yujin.’ You’re still dying, but you reach for her anyway, cupping her face with both hands, thumbs swiping over her cheeks, carefully wiping away what you can. ‘Baby, blink—’

‘I am blinking.’ She’s being so dramatic about it, blinking furiously, tilting her face up to the water like it might cleanse her soul. ‘Oh my god. Oh my god.’

‘Okay, okay, come here—’

You guide her fully under the stream, hands in her hair, rubbing circles at her temples as she half-laughs, half-groans against your chest.

‘Three years, and this is how it goes?’

‘I mean,’ you murmur, fingers tracing down her jaw, ‘technically, this is a good thing. This means I really missed you.’

She gasps, smacking your chest. ‘That is not how this works.’

‘No, no, it is. You should be flattered.’

‘I am blinded.’

‘Listen, some people pay a lot of money for facials like this.’

‘Oh my god, shut up—’

She’s laughing now, still rubbing at her eye, still squinting slightly, but you tilt her face up, press your lips to her forehead, her nose, the water-warm curve of her cheek.

‘Here,’ you murmur, ‘let me see.’

She lets you, tilting her chin up, letting you wipe at her lashes, the bridge of her nose, the soft hollow under her eye. Your fingers are gentle, your touch slow, careful, as you rinse the last of it away.

Her hands find your ribs, gripping lightly, grounding herself.

‘I’m keeping score, you know,’ she murmurs, voice softer now.

You kiss her temple. ‘Yeah?’

She hums. ‘You owe me for this.’

You grin, pressing a kiss to her cheek. ‘I owe you?’

‘Mhm.’ Another soft blink, this one slower, more considering. ‘Big time.’

You exhale, pressing your forehead to hers. ‘I’ll make it up to you.’

She pulls back just enough to look at you, eyes warm, searching.

‘Yeah?’

‘Yeah.’

A beat.

Then she grins, pressing a quick, mischievous kiss to your lips.

‘Good.’

And then—

‘Now help me get this out of my hair, you absolute monster.’

You laugh, tilting her back under the water, already reaching for the shampoo.

You barely make it out of the shower before Yujin is already reaching for a towel, scrubbing at her hair like she’s trying to erase all evidence of your existence.

You watch her, arms crossed, towel slung lazily over your shoulder. ‘You know, I could help with that.’

She gives you a look. A very specific you-are-the-reason-I’m-in-this-mess look.

‘You’ve helped enough,’ she mutters, aggressively drying her face.

You grin. ‘Want me to dry your back?’

‘No.’

‘Sure?’

‘I don’t trust you.’

You press a hand to your chest, mock-wounded. ‘I am offended by this blatant accusation.’

‘You are plotting something. I know that face.’

‘I literally only have one face, Yujin.’

‘Yeah. And I know it.’

She sighs, shoving her towel at you. ‘Fine. You want to be useful? Dry my hair. But no funny business.’

‘Define funny business.’

She glares.

You chuckle, grabbing another towel, stepping behind her. She exhales as you gently towel-dry her hair, rubbing slow, deliberate circles into her scalp.

Her head tilts slightly, unconsciously leaning into your touch.

You knew she’d enjoy this.

She hums, closing her eyes. ‘Okay. Maybe you can be trusted.’

‘Told you.’ You press a kiss to the crown of her head. ‘I am a professional.’

‘A professional nuisance.’

‘A professional lover.’

She snorts. ‘Oh my god, shut up.’

You grin, setting the towel aside, reaching for the hairdryer.

She shifts slightly in her seat. ‘Wait—’

‘Hm?’

She peeks up at you, tilting her head back, cheeks warm. ‘...I like it when you do it slow. With your hands.’

You pause.

Look down at her.

Oh.

You set the hairdryer aside. ‘You should’ve said so earlier, baby.’

She exhales, smiling, closing her eyes again as your fingers slip into her hair, raking through the damp strands, slow and careful.

This is— This is intimacy in its simplest form. You, standing behind her, fingers combing through her hair, working through knots with gentle patience. Her, sitting still, trusting you, letting herself be taken care of. ‘You’re soft,’ you murmur, pressing another kiss to her temple. ‘Mm.’ Her shoulders relax completely. ‘Just don’t mess up my parting.’ You chuckle. ‘I’ll do my best.’ It takes a while—because you like taking your time with her—but eventually, her hair is dry, loose waves tumbling down her back. She stretches, arms overhead, and that’s when you realize— She’s still wearing your shirt. The one she stole post-shower, hanging off her like it was made for this moment.

You stare. Your thoughts are not wholesome. She catches you looking. Her lips curve. ‘You’re plotting something again,’ she says, amused. ‘Maybe.’ ‘You need to control yourself—’ ‘Nope.’ She laughs, batting you away when you attempt to grab her. ‘No. No, sir,’ she warns, scooting to the bed. ‘You said you’d be good.’ ‘Did I?’ ‘Yes. You did. You explicitly said you’d behave.’ ‘And you believed me?’ She pauses. Then groans, rubbing her face. ‘God, I’m an idiot.’ You grin. And then you pounce.

She yelps, barely managing to roll away before you trap her under you, laughing as she dodges your grabby hands.

‘No,’ she gasps between laughs, ‘we are doing the normal nighttime routine first!’ ‘This is the routine.’ ‘No it is not!’ You chase her across the bed. She giggles, swats at you, then suddenly—miraculously—manages to flip you over, straddling you with a triumphant grin. ‘HAH.’ She plants her hands on your chest. ‘Got you.’ You blink up at her. Pause. Then smirk. ‘Yujin,’ you murmur, voice low. ‘Baby.’ Her smile falters. ‘…What.’

You cup her waist, slowly sliding your hands up, over the fabric of your shirt, over the nothing she’s wearing underneath.

She realizes. Her eyes widen. ‘Wait—’ And then you flip her back over. She gasps. ‘Noooooo—’ You laugh, pinning her down, watching as she squirms, cheeks flushed, eyes bright with warmth and amusement. This. This is the routine. Laughter. Teasing. The way you move around each other like gravity has always existed between you. She exhales, chest rising and falling beneath you, fingers curling around your wrists. Her voice, when she speaks, is softer. ‘You win,’ she murmurs. You press your forehead to hers. ‘I always do.’ She sighs dramatically. ‘Ugh. Fine. Manhandle me, then.’ She’s still beneath you, chest rising and falling, fingers curled loosely around your wrists where you’ve pinned them. Her breath is quick, her pulse erratic, and you know it’s not just because of the weight of you pressing her into the mattress—it’s everything. The warmth between you, the years leading to this, the understanding that what’s about to happen isn’t just want, isn’t just release—it’s reclamation.

She swallows, lips parting slightly, pupils wide and dark in the low light. The dark strands of her hair are fanned across the pillow, tangled from your hands, a mess you’d memorize blindfolded. There’s a flush blooming across her chest, creeping up the column of her throat, a heat that you feel mirrored in yourself.

You watch her, watch the way she shifts slightly beneath you, pressing up just enough to remind you she’s waiting, waiting, waiting. You could draw this out forever. But that’s cruelty. Or maybe, maybe, that’s worship.

You press your lips to the tip of her nose, then her cheek, then down, trailing a path over her jaw, her throat, the faint dip between her collarbones. You can feel the hum of her laughter before she even releases it, a small breath of amusement, her fingers twitching against your hold'

‘You’re teasing,’ she murmurs, voice wrecked already. ‘No,’ you answer, dragging your mouth lower, tasting the salt of her skin. ‘I’m remembering.’

Because you are. You’re remembering the way her body curls into yours when she’s overwhelmed. You’re remembering the tiny, trembling exhales she makes when your hands slide over the slopes of her ribs. You’re remembering that she loves when you take your time, that she loves to be adored, that she wants to feel every inch of you.

And she is so easy to adore.

You shift lower, your hands tracing slow, lazy patterns down her sides, feeling the way her muscles twitch beneath your touch. The shape of her—long lines, soft curves, skin warm and impossibly smooth beneath your lips.

Your name escapes her in a breath, a barely-there sound that settles somewhere behind your ribs, inside your chest, like it belongs there.

You kiss lower. Down, down. Your fingers slip between her thighs, ghosting over her bare glistening pussy, and her breath stutters, a sharp intake that punches straight through your gut. ‘Look at you,’ you murmur, dragging your knuckles up the inside of her goosebump-ridden thigh. ‘Fidgeting.’ She doesn’t answer. Just glares, lashes damp, lips parted, so achingly beautiful you feel winded.

‘Is that frustration?’ you tease, dragging your mouth back up, scraping your teeth over her hip bone. ‘It’s—’ She exhales, trying for control. Fails. ‘It’s you taking too long.’ You hum. ‘I thought you liked it slow.’ ‘I do,’ she grits out. ‘But I also like it when you—’

Her voice catches as your fingers press a little harder into her. A single stroke, just enough to make her body jolt, enough to make her curse under her breath, enough to feel the sticky wetness of her—inside.

Then you do it again. And again. Until her hips are moving against your touch, until her nails bite into your shoulders, until her breath is a series of broken, unsteady exhalations, ‘Yes, yes, oh fuck~’

You kiss her then. Hard. Deep. Drinking in every shiver, every sound, every breathless plea she won’t voice but you understand anyway.

And then— Then, finally— Her thighs part wider, welcoming you; knees hooking around your hips, heels digging into the small of your back. You press your shaft along her golden-soft navel, hard enough to get her whimpering under the heat of your shaft. You drag slowly along her soft—yet firm—navel, coursing the map lower and lower—until the nub responsible for her heat—all swollen and beautiful and pink—meets your tip. She lets out a sudden whimper; She glares, and you press a kiss on her temple once again—sorry baby, sorry. At the end of the map, you feel the slick heat of her cunt against the head of your cock, her entrance fluttering, pulsing, as you grind around the clit in slow, torturous circles. Precum smears her folds, mingling with her arousal, the glide obscenely wet. ‘Fuck,’ she hisses, nails raking down your spine. ‘Stop—stop toying—’ You catch her wrist, pinning it above her head again. ‘No.’ Your other hand grips the base of your cock, guiding it through her slit, the swollen head catching on her clit with every pass. She jerks, a broken moan tearing free, her hips bucking—but you hold firm, denying her friction. ‘You wanted slow. This is slow.’ Her cunt weeps, glistening, her inner lips swollen and flushed. You watch, transfixed, as your cockhead nudges her entrance, spreading her open incrementally. A single inch sinks in, the velvety grip of her walls clenching reflexively, and you groan through gritted teeth. ‘Christ’ She whimpers, her clit throbbing against your shaft as you retreat, dragging your tip through her folds again. ‘Please—’ Her voice cracks, tears spilling down her temples. ‘Just—fuck me—’ You lean down, lips grazing hers. ‘Where?’ She glares, chest heaving. ‘You know—’ ‘Say it.’ ‘Inside—’ ‘Inside what?’ You press forward, another inch sheathed, the stretch burning sweet. ‘Use your words, Yujin.’ Her thighs tremble. ‘My—my cunt.’ ‘Good girl.’ You sink deeper, the thick ridge of your cockhead massaging her front wall, that spongy patch of nerves that makes her sob. Her cervix yields, soft and pliant, as you bottom out, hips flush against hers. Her cunt clenches, a vice of slick muscle, and you swear, forehead dropping to her shoulder. ‘You’re gonna milk me dry—’ ‘Move,’ she demands, her ankles locking behind your back. ‘Move or I’ll—’ ‘You’ll what?’ You pull out almost completely, leaving just the tip seated, her clit rubbing against your shaft. ‘Beg?’ She keens, back arching, breasts pressed to your chest. ‘Yes—yes, god, please—’ You snap your hips forward, sheathing yourself in one brutal thrust. Her scream is muffled by your palm as you clamp it over her mouth, your other hand sliding between you to circle her clit. ‘Quiet,’ you growl, grinding deep. ‘You’ll take it. All of it.’ Her cunt ripples around you, fluttering in erratic pulses, her clit swollen and pebbled beneath your thumb. You fuck her with shallow, punishing rolls of your hips, each stroke dragging your cockhead over that sweet spot, her thighs shaking, her breath coming in ragged, choked gasps. ‘Look at me,’ you snarl, removing your hand from her mouth. She obeys, eyes glassy, lips bitten raw. ‘Whose cunt is this?’ ‘Yours—’ ‘And whose cock?’ ‘Mine—’ You slam into her, hilt-deep, your balls slapping her ass. ‘Louder—’ ‘MINE—’

The word cracks through the room, ragged and raw, and you reward it by slamming into her hilt-deep, your pelvis grinding against her clit as you still inside her. Her cunt clenches, a vice of slick heat, and you hiss through your teeth, your grip bruising on her hips. ‘Again,’ you demand, pulling out until only the swollen head of your cock remains lodged in her entrance. Her inner lips cling to you, reluctant to let go. She whines, back arching off the bed. ‘Yours—your cunt, your everything—’ You thrust back in, slow, savoring the way her walls ripple to accommodate you. ‘And what do you want?’ 'You,’ she gasps, nails carving half-moons into your shoulders. ‘Inside me—claiming me—’ 'How?' You drag your cockhead over that spongy patch of nerves again, deliberate, watching her thighs quake. 'Cum,' she begs, tears streaking her temples. 'Fill me—mark me—' You still, your hand sliding up to grip her throat—not restricting air, just owning. 'Ask nicely.' Her breath hitches. 'Please—please, I need it—need you to paint my insides white, need to feel it—' A dark thrill curls in your gut. You lean down, lips brushing hers. 'Since you asked so sweetly.' You start a brutal, precise rhythm—deep, grinding thrusts that punch the air from her lungs. Each snap of your hips drags her clit against the base of your cock, each retreat leaves her clenching around nothing. Her cunt weeps, arousal slicking your shaft, the obscene slap of skin on skin echoing off the walls. 'Look at me,' you snarl, tightening your grip on her throat. Her eyes fly open, hazy but obedient. 'You take me so well,' you murmur, your free hand sliding between you to circle her throbbing clit. 'This greedy cunt—my greedy cunt—sucking me in like you were made for it.'

She sobs, her walls fluttering. 'Yours—always yours—'

'Prove it.' You pin her wrists above her head with one hand, your other still working her clit. 'Come. Now.'

Her orgasm rips through her violently—back arched, cunt spasming, a scream tearing from her throat as she soaks your cock. You ride it out, fucking her through the pulses, your thrusts turning jagged, erratic.

'Mine,' you growl, feeling your balls tighten. 'Say it—say it—'

'Yours—god, yours—'

You slam into her one last time, hilt-deep, and hold. Your release surges—thick, hot ropes of cum flooding her cervix, painting her walls in stripes of white. She whimpers, oversensitive but greedy, her cunt milking every drop as you grind your hips in slow, possessive circles.

'Take it,' you grit out, watching her stomach quiver with the force of your spend. 'All of it.'

She nods, dazed, her thighs trembling around your waist. You collapse atop her, still buried inside, your lips finding the sweat-damp hollow of her throat.

—

Yujin’s lashes flutter against your chest, and there’s a moment where she seems to wrestle with something—embarrassment, vulnerability—but it dissolves when she feels your fingers tracing gentle circles against her back. She shifts, propping herself up just enough to look at you, her eyes dark and soft and entirely too honest.

‘You know,’ she whispers, voice almost shy, ‘I used to dream about this. You and me, like this. Just… here.’

‘Here?’ You brush a damp strand of hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ear. ‘In bed, sweaty and gross?’

A soft laugh escapes her, warm and tender. ‘Yeah. Exactly this.’ Her fingertips graze your jaw, light as the touch of a memory. ‘I’d think about waking up to you, about how it’d feel to fall asleep in your arms. It’s stupid, I know—’

‘Not stupid,’ you murmur, cutting her off with a kiss—soft, lingering, like you’re trying to pour every unspoken word into it. ‘Never stupid.’

Her gaze softens even further, and she buries her face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent like it’s something she needs to breathe. You feel her lips press against your pulse, a delicate kiss that sends warmth flooding through you.

‘I don’t want to let you go,’ she confesses, voice muffled. ‘Not tonight. Not ever.’

‘Then don’t.’ You trail your fingers up and down her spine, feeling the subtle curve of her back beneath your touch. ‘Hold on to me. I’m not going anywhere.’

She shifts, looping her arms around your neck, pressing her body flush against yours. The contact is warm, grounding, and you let yourself sink into it, let yourself feel the weight of her, the steady thrum of her heartbeat against your chest.

‘You’re too good at this,’ she mumbles, the faintest hint of a pout in her voice. ‘Making me feel safe. Like I belong here.’

You tighten your hold on her, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. ‘You do belong here. With me. Always.’

Her breath shudders, and you feel her fingers clutch at your shoulders, like she’s afraid you might slip away. You press another kiss to her forehead, then her temple, then her cheek, each touch softer than the last.

‘Yujin,’ you whisper, and she looks up at you, eyes wide and glistening. ‘There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.’

She smiles—a real, unguarded smile—and you feel the weight of it settle in your chest. She lifts herself up just enough to press a kiss to your lips, lingering, tender, unhurried. It’s a kiss that feels like a promise, like something that doesn’t need words to be understood.

When she pulls back, her face is flushed, her expression open and raw. ‘I love you,’ she says softly, the words so simple, so devastatingly sincere.

You cup her face, thumb brushing over her cheek. ‘I love you too. More than you’ll ever know.’

She settles against you, fitting herself into the curve of your body, her head resting against your chest. You stroke her hair, feeling the tension melt from her frame as she presses one last kiss to your heart.

The room is warm and heavy with the scent of you both, with the quiet weight of something real and unbreakable. You feel her breathing slow, her body growing heavy with sleep, and you let your own eyes drift shut, content to let the world narrow to the steady rise and fall of her breath.

And then—nothing. Just the two of you tangled together, warmth and closeness and the certainty that this, right here, is home.

—

a/n: Experimenting yet again. Hopefully the last sex scene wasn't too mortifying. But I really enjoyed writing this—Yujin's personality meshes really well with with the dialogue I was aiming to do (hopefully I succeeded). This was a half-finished draft that I managed to finish (through merging other drafts, other idols, et cetera et cetera), and now I don't have a single draft remaining; sooo... I don't know how this fares for the next fic (hopefully not too long..... haha..heh..he).

a/n 2: Much love for all the support: they never go unnoticed!!! <3333333

#Yujin smut #Ive smut #ive #fanfic #smut #kpop #kpop smut #male reader

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ponderingmoonlight · 1 year ago

Text

Seeing JJK men shirtless for the first time

Pairings: (true form) Sukuna x fem! reader; Nanami x fem!reader; Choso x fem!reader; Gojo and Geto x fem!reader; Ino x fem!reader; Toji x fem!reader; Ijichi x fem!reader

Word Count: 6k (this is literally one third of my bachelor thesis lmao)

Warnings: Spice in Sukuna's, a little bit in Choso's and in Toji's part, true form Sukuna so slight spoilers regarding his appearance, I'm sorry but Choso's part is a lil shitty

Notes: You guys...This has to be my biggest fic yet and let me tell you, I poured my heart and soul into this piece. So please, if you find the time, leave me a like, a comment or a reblog. I appreciate it more than you could imagine 🤍

Sukuna

You don’t even know how you ended up here. To be exact, it still feels like a feverish dream to you. Only one second ago, you were on your way to find your friends, injured with your shoulder throbbing each passing second. But now…

Your eyes roam around the barely lit area, gleaming in that unpromising red light that runs shivers down your spine. There is absolutely no logical explanation for how you ended up here.

“Sure took you some time to finally wake up again.”

That dark voice hollering at you, the sarcastic undertone in it. It’s a man, without any doubt. And just by the sound of his masculine voice you can tell that he’s build like a wall.

Is it wise to move forward, to discover this place? Well, standing here like an idiot definitely won’t help to find a way out of here, right? And you definitely need to find out who that man is…

“Who are you?”

Your voice gets lost against the tall walls, echoes back at you over and over again. But no answer.

“Are you the reason for me being here?”

There is no doubt in the fact that his eyes are all over you. Like a hunter, he roams around you in silence while your tingling nerves almost cause you to lose your mind. Who is he? Where are you? What is all of this?

Your feet dash forward once again. Straight into the darkness, chasing after a dim beam of light that catches your interest immediately. Maybe this is your way out, maybe you’ll get to meet your friends again, maybe-

Suddenly your breath gets stuck in your throat, feet stopping immediately. That thing…

You swallow hard, eyes fixated on the most muscular male upper body you’ve seen in your entire life. No, this isn’t a thing. This is a grown man.

“Stop staring at me like that”, he growls with his now familiar voice.

This is him, the person who talked to you earlier. You want to confront him, want to ask him for a way out, but instead you stare him up and down. Those oh so muscular four arms decorated by hypnotizing tattoos, a chest so broad it takes you all your strength to outstand the urge to press your head against it. But what really catches you off guard is his mouth. No, not the mouth on his face. Your gaze gets caught by the parted lips that cover his stomach, teeth exposed to threatful that the thought of getting killed crosses your mind for a split second.

“Are you done now, stupid girl?”

Before you even realize what’s happening, you find yourself lying in his arms, his body pressed so tightly against yours that you fail to breathe. His half naked body, muscles touching your bare skin…

Oh god, this is so wrong. There is no doubt in the fact that this is Sukuna in his true form, the king of curses in his full glory. And you? You are nothing but a tiny human compared to him, an ant underneath his boot.

But why does it feel so good, then? Why do your knees give him, why does your body start to throb in places where it shouldn’t?

A whimper escapes your lips, body almost collapsing into itself when you can feel his mouth there.

Against your bare skin.

Caressing the sensitive flesh of your thighs.

“If you just break into my kingdom like that, then I can do whatever I want with you”, he whispers against your ear.

“P-please”, you groan, not even knowing yourself what exactly you’re begging for.

“(y/n)?”

You close your eyes, searching for the feeling of his tongue against your skin.

“(y/n)!”

No, don’t open your eyes, don’t get distracted.

“(Y/N)!”

When your eyes dart open again, you aren’t greeted by Sukuna’s stinging gaze. No, the innocent eyes that look at you filled with worry belong to someone else.

“Man, you really have me worrying out here for you. You just broke down and started whimpering”, Yuji explains while lifting you off the ground.

Was it…all a dream?

Nanami Kento

Your heart races, blood rushing through your ears like electricity. You told him right from the start that leaving on his own wasn’t a good idea, that the injuries of other jujutsu sorcerers make you believe this might be a special grade curse.

But Nanami Kento never listens when you worry about him.

“I’m sorry to bother you, but it seems like there’s a gaping wound placed under my ribcage on my right side.”

You didn’t hesitate a single second, rushed after him with your little case like you always do. As Shoko’s co-worker, it’s your responsibility to look after injured jujutsu sorcerers. Even though you’ll never be as good as her, you will always make it your mission to help as fast as possible.

Especially him.

His signal grows stronger and stronger with every step you dash towards his location, mind racing back and forth. A gaping wound, what is that supposed to mean? Did he get hit by a gun, a curse? You don’t allow yourself to catch your breath, eyes focused on the little dot that comes closer.

“Are you alright, (y/n)? You really don’t need to rush to my side like that.”

A wave of relief washes over you when you see him leaning against the wall of a public toilet. But only until you catch a glimpse of the deep red tissues covering the sink and ground, his usual dark blue shirt discoloured in horrific crimson.

All colour drains from yourself while you lunge yourself at him, thick fear rushing through your veins.

“Why didn’t you call me sooner? You already lost a hell amount of blood”, you press out, inspecting the wound carefully.

This looks bad. Really really bad. If you don’t act right now, if you don’t start to use your technique immediately…

“Take off that shirt. Now”, you instruct him without waiting for his response while putting on gloves and showering your hands in sanitizer.

You fail to understand the meaning of your automatic words until he stands in front of you, bare chested.

Oh.

Your breath gets stuck in your throat all over again, eyes shamelessly discovering the way his muscular chest rises and falls steady.

“Did you just…”

Suddenly your mouth feels dry like the desert, mind unable to form a single sentence. Since you know Nanami Kento, you always know him as that well-dressed gentlemen in that suit that makes his butt look delicious and his shirt that leaves you pondering about the way he might look underneath when you’re supposed to work. There was never an opportunity to peek at more than his veiny forearm. And now this force of a man is standing right in front of your hungry eyes, showing you that reality is so much better than everything you could have imagined.

“Sorry, didn’t you tell me to take my shirt off?”

“I…”

When Shoko wasn’t around, you always pondered about the way he might look under his dark blue shirt. Do his tight muscles draw those valleys onto his belly you’ve seen on TV before? Does his biceps have that popping vein his forearms make you suspect?

You can’t help but allow your eyes to roam around his frame freely. That little scar decorating his chest. Is it from a fight? And that minor trail of untrimmed hair that lets your gaze wander to places…

“I don’t want to be rude but…I’m not feeling that well, (y/n). Would you mind treating me?”

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Blood rushes into your cheeks immediately, face heating up by the horrific thought that he caught you staring at his bare chest like an idiot. Fuck, he definitely thinks you’re nothing but a freak now. What if he’ll ignore you from now on? What if you won’t see him again after that? What a dumbass you are, didn’t you see countless men without a shirt on already-

“Hey, stop worrying. I’m more than flattered that I caught the attention of someone like you but…let’s do this when I’m feeling better.”

Your widened eyes fail to leave his oh so gorgeous face while your trembling hands go to work, mind too focused on what he just said.

“Let’s do what?”, you finally breathe out.

Is this…a smile forming on Kento Nanami’s lips? You feel like tripping all over again, heart pounding so roughly against your ribcage that you might pass out right by his side any given moment.

“I like the way you look at me, (y/n).”

What a simple reply. And yet, his words send you into another dimension.

“You…WHAT?”

Choso Kamo

Your body threatens to fail you, eyes in desperate search for Yuji. When Megumi finally gave in and told you he went out on his own, you almost lost your mind. Yuji, Sukuna’s vessel, on his own in Shibuya when everyone chases after him? Megumi definitely deserves another slap for that.

You sprint down the empty hallways of Shibuya’s train station, following the distant sound of battle. Please, let Yuji be alright. As his bigger sister, it was always your aim to protect him. When Yuji joined Jujutsu High, you did as well. When Yuji decided to fight in first row, you did too. There is no way you’ll allow your little brother to die, even though technically you aren’t related by blood. But even as your step brother, you can’t afford to lose him.

“Yuji?”

Nothing. Your body hollers back at you unanswered, mind slowly but surely starting to get into panic mode as the sound of cracking metal grows closer and closer.

And then you see it, the chaos that lays itself out in front of you dipped in neon purple lights. Blood is splattered across the area, the floor swimming in water that escapes the nearby toilet.

The toilet…You furrow your eyebrows. Is this… a wave of pink hair?

“Yuji?”

His eyes meet yours. The so determined gleam in them escapes instantly when fright replaces it.

“Get away from here right now, (y/n)!”, he screams at you just before a fist pushes him into a nearby wall violently.

Your brain threatens to fail you, body dashing into the toilet without thinking twice. Whoever this is will pay for hurting your brother so violently, for causing all this mess.

“Didn’t I tell you to walk away?”, Yuji questions with an irritated voice.

“And I told you more than once that I won’t leave you hanging!”, you hiss through gritted teeth.

“Are you two done?”

A male voice that makes you turn your head instantly. The second your eyes find him, your breath gets stuck in your throat. Oh, what a force of a man he is with strands of dark hair sticking to his wet face, his gorgeous eyes looking at you so unbothered. But what almost sweeps you off your feet is the way his robe allows you a single peek at his firm muscles that are lit by neon purple.

“Oh my”, you mumble to yourself.

Who on earth is this guy? Why is he fighting Yuji? But most importantly…Why does he have to look so steaming hot?

“Why are you not moving, (y/n)? Get out of here right now”, Yuji taunts urgently.

“What a waste”, you jeer at the man in front of you while taking a few steps towards him.

Choso can’t help but look at you bamboozled. How you move so confidently even though you don’t even know who he is, your eyes still fixated on…

His body? Are you looking at his abs?

“That a handsome guy like you acts like this.”

His eyes widen unintentionally, hands not daring to move. He should kill you right on the spot, should end your life just like that of Itadori Yuji. You’re partly responsible for the violent death of his brothers as well, given the fact that you’re also wearing that uniform. But his tight fists don’t dare to move a single inch, glued to his sides.

“Idiot, you don’t even know who you’re talking to. I will kill you just like Yuji Itadori, I will-“

“Will you, though?”

You come to a stand in front of him.

“W…What are you doing, (y/n)?”

Yuji’s voice shifts into the background. This definitely isn’t the first time you get close to a handsome man, but the others definitely weren’t that handsome. Just one look into his surprised eyes, the delicate marks on his face. And that force of a body. There is no doubt in the fact that this man trains a lot.

“I am distracting him, what else?”, you purr.

“I am not distracted.”

“Are you sure about that?”

Before he’s able to think about your words any further, you wrap your longing arms around his neck and hold him firmly against yourself.

“Because your eyes tell me something else.”

Now it’s Choso who fails to breathe. He never understood the simplicity of tender touch, the urge that drives humans almost crazy. What is so special about another hand placed against your skin, about lying in each other’s arms? He might have never understood if it wasn’t for you. You with your arm wrapped around his neck. You, with your free hand wandering down his chest, the wet fabric exposing his tight muscles without mercy.

In the split of a second, he begins to realize what touching each other seems to be about.

“Respect. Out of all the trained men I see on a daily basis, you have to be the most handsome one out of all. You work out a lot, don’t you?”

Your fingertips discover the valleys of his abs even further, force Choso to feel an uncomfortable tightness in his pants. Fuck, he doesn’t even know your name, has never seen you before. How is it even possible for you to have this power over him?

“None of your business, idiot”, he breathes out.

“What’s your name?”

Your voice does things to him his mind fails to understand, his sharp breath now hanging in the air between both of you. You are threatening, your glowy eyes showing more than urgently that you aren’t playing. But that slight smile on your face, the confidence dripping from every pore of your body…Who are you?

“Choso Kamo.”

“I’m (y/n)”, you reply while allowing your eyes to take one last glance at his tight abs.

Oh, you’ll definitely regret what you’re about to do. What if you won’t get to see him afterwards, the most handsome man you ever laid eyes on? There’s no other way, though.

“And I hope I’ll get the chance to be this close to you again.”

One innocent kiss pressed against his soft lips. One innocent kiss that sends him straight onto the ground, emerged into nothing but darkness. A pretty useful cursed technique, probably the reason why you get called femme fatale at Jujutsu High.

“What a shame, I really liked that guy”, you comment with Yuji coming to a stand right by your side.

“You didn’t have to touch his abs like that…”

“Oh I definitely did”, you reply instantly.

Your hands brush over his upper body one last time before you turn around and walk away.

Gojo Satoru & Geto Suguru

What a lovely day. Well, lovely apart from the stinging fact that you are forced to babysit the vessel of Tengen-sama when a bunch of bounty hunters chases after you. Your shaded eyes roam around the area without any break, too scared of the consequences that carelessness could have. In contrast to Gojo, you take this task very seriously. You, who is nothing but an average jujutsu sorcerer at jujutsu high, surpassed by her classmates a long time ago. Who, who only got the chance to go on this mission by coincidence.

Well, and then there’s him.

“(y/n), why are you not wearing a bikini? We’re at the beach, aren’t we?”

Gojo Satoru, the honoured one. Of course, they would choose him to escort the plasma vessel. It’s only logical for him to be here.

“We’re on a mission, Satoru”, you remind him urgently without even looking his way.

“Hey, are you alright? There’s no need to be so tense, (y/n). We have everything under control.”

And then there’s also him, Geto Suguru. The boy with the most charismatic smile you’ve even seen, so gentle and kind that it’s almost unbelievable he’s even talking to Satoru.

“I won’t be tense when she’s finally with Tengen-sama. This mission is very important to me”, you mumble with your eyes fixated on Riko and Misato walking in front of you, completely unbothered by the fact that both of them almost died more than once.

“Hey, stop looking so serious, (y/n)! I’m here to save you if it get’s heated”, Gojo purrs from behind, literally forcing you to roll your eyes behind your sunglasses.

“Why do you always have to tease her like this? (y/n) can help herself and you know that”, Geto remarks instantly, letting himself fall behind to mumble something you can’t understand into his best friend’s ear.

You worked your ass of for this opportunity, always stayed longer than anyone else on the training field, always learned until far past midnight while everyone else was sound asleep. There was never anything except getting a better jujutsu sorcerer in your life. God, you didn’t even have a single boyfriend in all those years.

Enough. You straighten your shoulders and force your eyes onto Rika again. For now, you have a job to do. There’s no time to think about something so wasteful as boys.

Your gaze roams around the beach before you allow the plasma vessel to get into the water with a wink. No one but a little family without cursed energy is located around you, so everything should be fine. Also, Gojo would have detected an enemy with his six eyes. Gojo…where on earth is he, though?

When you turn around in order to follow his and Geto’s muted voice, your breath gets stuck in your throat. You really don’t know what you expected when going to the beach with both Suguru and Satoru, but that? Both of them wear nothing but shorts and a shirt – an opened shirt. Your gaze hits their bare chests one after another, races back and forth while your mouth opens on its own. To be honest, you’ve never seen a real guy shirtless. Maybe here and there at the swimming pool when you were training or at the beach. But they weren’t like them. They weren’t this toned.

“Enjoying the view, (y/n)? Looks like a cat got ya tongue, huh?”, Satoru jeers at you.

“Not every girl looks at you, Satoru”, Suguru comments dryly.

“Hey, are you alright, (y/n)?”

You missed out.

Fuck, you definitely missed out.

How is this he first time you saw both of them shirtless? Geto with a firm body that doesn’t match his soft personality at all. Gojo, who isn’t only blessed with his immense powers but with a god-like body as well.

“I…Uh…”

You can’t find words. How are you supposed to say anything logical when your heart almost beats out of your chest? They were never more than comrades to you, never more than strong jujutsu sorcerers you look up to. But damn, at this very moment, you truly see them as man.

Suguru puts his hand on his hip which makes his muscles dance delicately, head tilted to the side in sheer confusion while he walks towards you. Lord have mercy, you really are doomed. How are you supposed to concentrate on this mission when now you’re aware of how they look underneath those strict uniforms?

“Are you feeling unwell? It’s totally fine if you go back to the ho-“

“No”, you interrupt Suguru immediately when he puts his hand on your shoulder.

His bare hand.

While he stands in front of you with his bare chest.

You never longed for men. No, your only interest has always been your training, to become greater, better, faster, stronger. But at this very moment, when both of their toned bodies stare right back at you, you suddenly feel a weakness you’ve never felt before, a hunger that was unknown until now.

“Can’t you see that (y/n) is busy staring at us right now, Suguru? Bet that’s your first time ever seeing something apart from training”, Satoru teases you.

Faster than your mind is able to follow, he stands in front of you, grabs your wrists and presses your palm against his naked chest. His heartbeat pulsates against your fingertips, forces a warmth between your legs you’ve never felt before. Those tiny hair that tickle against your oversensitive skin, the heat that radiates from his body, that makes you almost faint.

You stumble back a few steps only to get caught by Suguru, who presses you against his body firmly.

“Hey, are you not feeling well?”

“I…I…”, you stutter.

Oh god, you feel like dying and flying at the same time, lying like an idiot in Suguru’s arms while Satoru still grins at you.

“Want me to take off my pants as well, (y/n)?”

“SATORU!”

Ino Takuma

“Why do I have to train with this jerk again?”

Your eyes roll backwards while you let yourself fall onto a nearby bench theatrically. God, how much you hate that guy, the way he always acts so competent around Nanami makes your guts turn in pure disgust. Doesn’t he understand that you are better than him, that you are Nanami’s favorite student? Ino Takuma doesn’t stand a chance against you.

But why does Nanami insist on both of you training together, then?

“Because both of you need to work on your abilities and you complement each other perfectly.”

“That’s not true!”, you answer along with each other instantly.

No, you despise Ino with all your heart. There’s nothing you could learn from him. Him with that stupid grin, him with that dumb confident walk, him in that oversized black sweater.

“I will be back after my mission. It is your choice how you spend your time until then. Stay safe.”

Fuck, Nanami knows exactly what he did with those words. Of course, there’s no way around spending your time with that jerk now.

“Can you stop breathing so fucking loud?”, you jeer at him.

“Me? Nothing but hot air comes out of your mouth. Save your breath, idiot”, Ino bites back instantly.

“You know what? Let’s start right now. I can’t wait to beat your puny ass.”

You dash to the other side of the large room after bumping into his shoulder provocatively. There is no doubt in the fact that you will make Ino regret coming into your life like this. You are the one and only one who deserves a recommendation from Nanami and not him. Just one look into his oh so confident face makes your veins pulsate.

“What’s wrong? Are you scared, (y/n)?”

You let out your shaky breath, hands balling into tight fists. That fucker will regret every stupid comment he ever made when you’re done with him.

“If you were as good at staying dumb stuff as you were at fighting, you’d probably be a special grade by now.”

He dashes towards you with his mask covering his face. Just in time, you are able to dodge his merciless attack while holding onto your sword so tightly that your knuckles stand out white. Over and over, he tries to hit you, tries to distract you while you swing your swords without regard as well.

“I won’t lose this fight, (y/n)”, he presses out while pushing you backwards.

“I won’t either.”

Over and over, again and again, your body collapse against each other, his flying fist missing your face only by inches. You have to fight back harder, sweat sticks to your forehead while you squint your eyes in order to follow his rapid movements. How much you hate to even think about the stinging fact that Ino is a decent fighter, that both of you actually meet eye to eye.

You ball your fists even tighter, let your powers roam free in your pulsating veins. Still, you won’t allow him to win this. You will stump him into the ground, make Nanami proud, show him that you deserve his recommendation. This is your only way to become a grade 1 sorcerer, to surpass Ino.

With one well-placed dash of your bare hand, his sweater gets torn into pieces while you position yourself in front of him, so ready to give him that last hit he deserves, so ready to win this fight.

This fight…Your eyes follow the movement of your hand, watch how the black fabric hangs on for dear life, how it reveals something you’ve never seen before.

Your eyes widen in sheer surprise, blinking against the sudden sensation that hits you. Are those really Ino’s abs? So well-toned that you simply can’t look away, covered in a layer of glittering sweat and flexed to the brim.

“Oh my god”, you mutter to yourself.

This is definitely not the sight you expected. Of course you know how much he trains, that he has to be somehow fit. But that?

“Why you’re looking at me like that?”

“You look like fucking adonis”, you spit at him.

“Why do you have to look so damn good?”

“Huh?”

“This is not fair”, you continue, grabbing his arm and yanking him towards you.

“You don’t deserve to look like that.”

“Are you out of your mind, you idiot?”, he hisses through gritted teeth.

Like in slow motion, a sudden redness creeps up his face and discolors his cheeks red.

“Just shut the fuck up”, he continues.

Your eyes travel downwards his body again. What a great figure, what a body of steel. Why does it have to be Ino Takumo who looks this damn good? Why on earth does it have to be him? Your cheeks heat up like fire, a nauseous feeling threatening to eat you up alive. Is it even more disgust, more hatred than you already hold for him? No, this feels somehow different.

Is this…desire?

“I need to get out of here”, you announce before turning on your heel and aiming to walk away.

“No, there’s no way in hell I’ll let you leave like that you creep. Did you just check me out? I thought you’re disgusted of me.”

He grabs your arm and pulls you backwards before you’re able to stop him, his eyes gleaming at you.

There you stand, both of you with red faces, just looking at each other like plain idiots while you force yourself to keep your eyes focused on his face.

“You don’t deserve to be this hot”, you reply in a haste.

Why do his lips suddenly look this inviting? You actually never saw him up-close, always kept your save distance to your greatest enemy. Ino is a jerk, nothing but a trash talker, a pain in your ass since you first saw him. But on the other hand, he’s well-toned and strangely handsome with the way a coat of sweat decorates his forehead, his troubled eyes and those lips. Those lips you never payed attention to, those lips who did nothing but talking shit until this day. You can’t help but wonder how they feel pressed against yours, how his abs feel pressed against the palms of your hand. Out of instinct, your head moves forward, closes the gap between both of you step by step. How did you never notice his delicate smell and how hot he looks with that mask?

“Ino”, you breathe his name out like a prayer.

“(y/n)…”

“What’s going on here?”

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

You stumble backwards immediately, heart dropping to the floor. There he stands like a knight in shining armour. None other than Nanami Kento.

“I didn’t know you were still busy, I’ll come ba-“

“This is a misunderstanding”, you desperately try to explain yourself.

And there it is. Even worse than seeing him standing in front of you with his arms crossed after catching you only inches away from your worst enemy.

A smile. A tiny fucking smile forming on Nanami’s lips.

“Is it, (y/n)?”

“I hate you”, Ino mumbles next to you.

“I hate you too.”

Toji Fushiguro

To say that you’re bored is an understatement. You feel like fucking dying with that little brat walking by your side. These last days were like a trip to hell and back.

“Let me say I’ll never babysit some stupid kid again”, you announce into the silence around you, earning a cheeky grin from Gojo.

“Totally agree with that.”

“Oh yeah?”, Riko replies challenging.

Just seconds before a blade pierces trough Gojo next to you with full force.

Just before his blood splatters across your face.

“Satoru”, you hear Geto breathe out far away.

“Get Riko away from here right now”, you instruct him out of instinct.

When you turn around, you get greeted by the hottest green eyes you’ve ever seen. The man who forces his blade straight into Gojo’s chest looks stunning with that maniac smile plastered on his gorgeous face.

“Now that’s a pleasant surprise. Apart from piercing through my friend, of course”, you comment dryly.

It’s clear that he’s older than you. Just one glance into his masculine face tells you that he’s no one to be messed with. Well, separately from the sword he pierced through the honoured one.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt ya, princess. But you and your little friends have something I need to kill”, his low seductive voice hollers back at you.

“(y/n), you shouldn’t stay here, y-“

“I got this Suguru. Get Riko to Tengen-sama as soon as possible”, you interrupt him immediately.

Your heart almost beats out of your chest by only a glimpse at the stranger standing in front of you. Finally, something exciting. Or rather, someone exciting.

“C’mon, we both know I can’t let that happen, princess.”

“Get out of here as well and use your reversed technique, Gojo”, you instruct the white-haired man again.

“I’m the honoured one, remember?”

“Well, I’m a woman”, you hiss through gritted teeth while walking past him.

“Seems like we have to fight, then.”

His smirk is intoxicating while he dashes towards you with neck-breaking speed. Over and over, you escape his blade just by inches while enjoying the wave of dopamine that rushes over you.

“You’re hot”, you jeer at him while dodging another attack.

“Ya know, we don’t have to fight here. Lemme finish this real quick and then we’ll have a talk under four eyes”, he replies with his enormous biceps rushing over your head.

“A talk, I’d rather see you naked.”

“Oh yeah? Don’t force yourself.”

A grin creeps up your face while you attack him with both of your swords, swinging through the air so effortlessly that he can’t help but stare at you. How are you so different from all the women he’s met before? So fearless, so forbidden hot. Maybe not his age, but given the gleam in your eyes mature.

What he’d do to run his fingers through your hair once, to watch your expression twitch underneath his merciless touch. You’d sure feel good pressed against his body with your bare back pressed against the mattress.

“Oh no, seems like I broke your shirt. What a shame”, you purr with your eyes locked onto his now exposed upper body.

Just as you expected, exactly how you imagined a man like him to look like. A body built from heaven itself, his abs so firm that you’re sure they’d feel like cement underneath your touch. What a force of a man.

What a shame he came here to sabotage your mission.

“Would have happened sooner or later anyway”, he replies while pinning you against a nearby tree, desire obviously clouding his dark eyes.

You can’t deny the fact that you are oh so tempted to enjoy this little sensation, a timeout from that shitty mission. Carefully, you allow your hands to discover the valleys his upper body has to offer, to feel his muscles tense underneath your merciless touch. There’s no shame in admitting that this was your favorite first glance of a male for a long time.

“You’re probably my favorite.”

The smirk on his face grows even wider while he traps you between his strong arms. What a shame, you think to yourself. You definitely have to tell Gojo to work out even harder after seeing a guy like him.

“But I can’t afford to play favorites when it comes to men. You’re in my way and if you sabotage my mission, I’m screwed, big guy. Let’s just stay here and let that girl live-“

Suddenly all air escapes your lungs, you fail to breathe when he pushes your body onto the ground with full force.

“Thought you were in control, huh? Too bad for ya, I don’t get distracted by a girl touching my abs. Even though I have to admit you’re a nice one. Now you stay here and let me finish your little friend before killing that vessel, okay?”

Your eyes widen in sheer horror as he simply walks away. Him, with his shirt hanging in shreds down his body, exposing his shamelessly toned back to your watery eyes.

He tricked you with the force of his muscles. And you actually fell for it.

Ijichi Kiyotaka

Your heart is racing in your chest, fingertips trembling by the nauseous wave of stress that washes over you. Again, something you didn’t calculate correctly. Again, some students got stuck underneath a curtain.

Your feet rush you to his room immediately. He’s probably the only one who’s able to fix the mess you’ve caused. After all, this is what he always does. Making sure no one gets hurt, having your back when things get messy.

For you, Ijichi is a blessing walking on earth. And he might be your only saviour right now.

With rapid steps, you dash into the building you know so well, the building he calls his come. Even if blindfolded, you’d always find your way to the man who seems so powerless in a world full of people who are ridiculously strong. Forced into the shadow, always looking out for everyone except himself.

“Ijichi, I need your help, I-“

You dashed into his flat like you always do, expected him sitting on the table while reading a book like he always does when you come around. But today, that doesn’t seem to be the chase. All of the sudden your mouth starts to feel dry, eyes fixated on nothing but his naked upper body.

His naked upper body.

“(y/n)! I…I didn’t expect you here today!”, he frantically mumbles while fighting for dear life with his white shirt.

“I never expected you to be so trained”, you breathe out, glance getting stuck on his surprisingly toned chest and six-pack.

“Don’t make fun of me, (y/n). I’m just an average guy”, he tries to laugh your words off.

“You look fantastic. Literally, you’re definitely able to keep up with Gojo. Are you training in secret?”, you insist.

“Don’t say something like that too loud, (y/n). If he hears you-“

“It’s nothing but the truth. You look absolutely…stunning.”

“Stunning” isn’t enough of a description for those butterflies violently racing through your stomach. It takes all your strength to stop your eyes from moving downwards again, to burn the picture of his toned abs inside your brain. How are you supposed to ever look into his face when knowing very well what an attractive man he is?

“Do you…mean it?”

His eyes meet yours, search for a spark of sarcasm in your glance. But there is no doubt in the fact that you mean it. Every single word you said about his lousy body, the praises.

A woman like you…Finding him attractive?

“Of course I do”, you mumble.

Oh.

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heeikeuu · 3 months ago

Text

In Your Embrace Is My Solitude

» how lads men comfort you during a panic attack

» pairing – lads x fem!reader

» genre – fluff, comfort, romance

» warnings – blood, panic attacks, teeny tiny angst, violence (please let me know if I missed anything)

note: my first official lads fic! Sorry for any typos in advance, enjoy!

ZAYNE:

Returning from a rough mission, you were badly injured and needed to attend to your wounds immediately. However you couldn't stop thinking about how you childishly fought with your fiance this morning because he kept telling you to not go alone on this mission but you argued back that you weren't a little girl and could handle yourself. But those words came to bite you right in the ass as you returned home at 1:30am covered in blood. It was hard to tell if it was mostly your blood or the wanderers. You weakly made your way to the hallway. You were nervous to face Zayne because you didn't want to burden your already tired and hard-working fiance, knowing he already does so much for you. What you didn't know is that he was sitting in the living room, worried sick, waiting for you. Your body froze seeing him. He looked at you and felt his heart drop. He instantly made his way to you, "What happened? Darling, are you alright? Why are you covered in blood?" His questions were rushing, but you could barely hear him anymore. Your anxiety spiked up further as you buried your face in his warmth. Zayne wasn't sure if he should hold you or not because he didn't want to make your injuries worse, but then he heard faint sobs and "I'm sorrys." Leave your lips. His heart ached, but he held back his tongue from scolding you. Instead, he gently inspected your body and held you. Your knees felt weak, and so did your entire body. Before you could collapse, Zayne carried you to the bedroom to care for your wounds and clean you up. Your body was still shaking as he wiped off the blood. Though Zayne wasn't a man of many words, he gently held your hand, "Next time, I'll be more careful, I'm sorry." You told him sincerely, "there is no need to apologize, darling. There will be no next time, I won't let you get hurt like this ever again."

SYLUS:

The night was very lively. You would argue too lively as the air felt stuffy. You had agreed to attend a charity event with your lover. However, you underestimated just how well known he would be during this event. You felt very uneasy, like eyes were on you almost as if they were trying to cut through the depths of your soul. Feeling your ears ringing as you were spacing out without realize. Suddenly, you felt a warm hand hold your own which was clamy, looking up you notice it was Sylus, he looked at you knowingly with a soft gaze and squeezed your hand twice, asking you if you're okay. You didn't want to ruin the night, so you simply nodded and flashed the best fake smile you could muster up, but he wasn't convinced. Pulling you towards his chest, he whispers to you, "Honey, if you're not feeling, we can always go home. There is no pressure to stay here, and I'm not going anywhere." His words eased your heart, making you calm down a bit more. Looking up at him, you no longer wanted to protest. Scared to use your voice, you just nodded again. He gently yet with a firm grip took your hand again and led you to his car to go home. His job was done for the night, and his wife was his top priority no matter what.

CALEB:

Waking up from a nightmare, you felt your sweaty body shake as you were trying to process that it wasn't real. Your hand instinctively reached out to your right side, expecting to feel your boyfriend next to you. However, you don't. You felt your anxiety spike up even more. You hadn't even bothered to check your phone or the time. You quickly got up from your shared bed and went to look for Caleb. You looked everywhere and couldn't find him. Tears flooded your vision further, scared that something happened to him like it did in your nightmare. What if he got into a fight with wanderers like the ones in you saw, you started pacing, heart pounding, hyperventilating now with tears streaming down your face because you remember the last thing you said to your boyfriend was that you couldn't promise to live a 100 years with him. After 2 minutes passed, you didn't seem to notice the soft click of the apartment door opening and closing, caleb came into view. Shocked at your state. Without hesitation, he immediately set down the groceries he got to make breakfast for you on the ground and ran up to check on you. Your body froze once you saw him and immediately ran into his arms. He held you protectively, "shhhh, I'm here, angel. Look at me, yeah?" He spoke ever so gently as he held your face in his hands. Looking at him, through your blurred vision, you see him kiss your tears away, his warmth a sharp contrast to how cold your body felt. "Do you want a distraction or a hug, angel?" He asked carefully, "a hug," you whispered. He held you until you calmed down and soon made you both breakfast to eat as it was 6am.

XAVIER:

You didn't mean to, but you had been spacing out too often today. You felt uneasy and kept trying to distract yourself however you could. You and Xavier were cuddling on the couch, watching old films together, but as Xavier was talking to you and explaining the movie's plot, you kept absentmindedly nodding. He eventually caught on and grabbed your chin, making you face him. "What's wrong, starlight? You've been out of it since this morning," He asked sweetly while carefully observing your body language. He noticed. He saw the way your eyes got ever so glossy, how your hands were sweaty, your fast heartbeat, and how you tried to discreetly stop your legs from shaking. You tried to speak but kept stuttering, "deep breaths, slowly." He talked you through it while holding your cheek with one hand and your waist with the other, bringing impossibly closer to him. You had trouble controlling your mind and often had panic attacks due to your intrusive thoughts. They always came unexpectedly and you couldn't stop them. You had been suppressing your feelings since this morning, but you ended up breaking down in front of your boyfriend. Tears were streaming down your face, "I-I'm sorry, I don't know what's wrong with me today," you voice muffled as he brought you to his chest, softly petting your hair and rocking back and forth with you in his arms. "It's okay, starlight. I'm not mad, I won't go anywhere, and yes I made sure to turn off the stove earlier" he joked at the last part making you giggle softly at his attempt to make you smile. You stayed like that for a while, feeling whole and safe in his arms.

RAFAYEL:

You were out with your friends having a great time after not seeing them for a long time, but you couldn't shake off the feeling of someone's piercing gaze on you. You brushed it off a few times. It's probably nothing, you thought to yourself as you excused yourself to the bathroom to wash up. Your heels clicking, but you were on high alert of your surroundings. Too high that you got lost in your mind, "going somewhere, miss?" An eerie voice spoke, flinching slightly. You look up and notice a strange man looking at you like you were deer caught in his trap. His smile got wider as he stepped closer to you. Shit what do I do, I don't have my weapons on me, you notice he had a knife, trapped between his large body, you felt your body and mind panic, you felt the cold dagger pressed closer to your pulse point drawing some blood in its awake. You tried to rack your brain on how to escape this situation swiftly, "You tell that lousy boyfriend of yours to not meddle in my business," the man threatened with a crazy look in his eyes. Rafayel? As if on que, your thoughts came to a halt as you heard his voice, the next few seconds were all a blur as you saw the man being pinned against the hallway walls with a deadly grip, "touching a woman without permission is a lousy move," Rafayel's voice said mockingly, "but touching my woman without her permission is a death wish." He spoke as the man cried in fear apologizing again and again. Rafayel wasn't having any of it. He threw the man onto the ground roughly before his gaze softened as he turned to look at you. Holding you in his arms, "shhh, it's okay, cutie, I'm here. I won't let anything happen to you, yeah?" His tone ever so sweet and soft. Your shaking body slowly calmed down afterward. Part of you knew that if you weren't here right now, that man would've been killed off in cold blood, yet you weren't scared of Rafayel. You knew he could never hurt you or let anyone hurt you.

Special tag; @imaluvsj7

#heeikeuu's library #love and deepspace #lads x y/n #xavier x reader #rafayel x reader #zayne x reader #sylus x reader #caleb x reader #lads drabble #lads oneshot #love and deepspace rafayel #love and deepspace caleb #love and deepspace xavier #love and deepspace sylus #love and deepspace zayne #lnds #lads comfort #lads fluff #love and deep space

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ozzgin · 4 months ago

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It's Christmas Eve, and you wake up to a baby outside of your home. Your yakuza friends quickly come to your rescue, and thus begins your journey of finding the baby's parents. Daitou ponders his own future family with you. content: female reader, violence, mentions of pregnancy, based on Tokyo Godfathers

[Yandere Yakuza Masterlist] | [More Yandere Works]

You stare at the little basket in disbelief.

On the front steps of your apartment complex, a lone baby is crying and shuffling in the bundle of stale sheets. The event would've been baffling enough by itself; even more incredulous is that someone has decided to drop an infant in the middle of a yakuza quarter, in winter, during a gang war. You glance at the bullet holes left in the entrance wall with pursed lips.

You do the only reasonable thing that comes to mind: call Daitou.

As you settle the baby in your much warmer living room, you hear the door rattle. Daitou barges in, face pale as a sheet. Behind him, Kazuya struggles to catch his breath.

“Why- Why didn’t you tell me,” he shouts, collapsing to his knees.

“What? I literally just did,” you argue, eyeing him in confusion.

Kazuya pats his friend’s shoulder, giving you an awkward smile.

“Just my two cents, (Y/N) love, but perhaps telling him ‘I have a baby’ wasn’t the smartest idea. I didn’t have time to explain the logical fallacies to him.”

Indeed, it was a speedy affair. They were hanging out at the headquarter across the street when Daitou answered your panicked call. He nodded, hung up, then sprang out of his seat, bemoaning that he’s the biggest dumbass on this Earth. How could he have missed the fact he’d gotten you pregnant? When did it happen? Was it a surprise birth? There was no time to consider the logistics – he ran, and ran, indifferent to Kazuya’s desperate pleads to listen.

“Oh my God,” you whine, ruffling his hair. “I found the baby, you idiot. Outside my apartment. It was there, in a basket. I hear it crying this morning and went downstairs to see what’s happening.”

The dark-haired man swings his head back up, having finally connected the dots. The movement is so abrupt, his prosthetic eye plops out and rolls away inconspicuously. You catch it before it reaches the edge of the sofa.

“So, what now?” the blonde man is the first one to break the silence. “Does it have a return address?”

“Nothing,” you confess. “We should figure something out; I don’t have any food or diapers.”

“We could keep it,” Daitou mutters mainly to himself. Maybe it was fate, y’know? Or something like that.

“Yeah? Are you going to breastfeed it, momma?” Kazuya groans, flicking his friend. “A stray cat caring for another stray.”

He’s about to place a cigarette in his mouth, but you slap it away and angrily gesture towards the baby. Ah, yes. Of course. He stuffs it back into his pocket, and continues:

“I say we take the kiddo over to our brothel. Plenty of girls that’ll have a better idea.”

You nod thoughtfully. Kazuya’s mom is one of those girls. How many children came out of this business, you wonder? You wrap the infant back into its sheets, and carefully lift the basket.

The street is suspiciously empty as you make your way to the soapland. Well, it’s Christmas Eve, after all. You recall last year’s Family event, when you met Boss for the first time. Back then you were pouring sake for all the underground elite, now you’re carrying an abandoned baby around. It seems that peaceful holidays aren’t something you can enjoy with the yakuza.

In an immaculately ironic timing to your complaint, a loud, thundering sound flashes past your ears. Before you can turn around, you feel Daitou’s brawny arm around your waist, effortlessly lifting you in the air. You let out a quick, involuntary shriek.

“Keep your head down,” he barks, suddenly grim and serious.

Kazuya mutters a curse under his breath, swiftly turning on his heels and shooting at targets out of your sight. You’ve been caught in one of the armed conflicts.

What a day, you think, hands gripped tightly around the basket. The baby is crying, the bullets are pouring. Daitou is holding you with one arm, the other is occasionally returning the shots.

“You get used to it,” you whisper to the infant. “I’m telling you now, there’s no better company than these two.”

It’s probably better to not be involved in the first place, of course, but if you do find yourself caught in gangster business...Kazuya and Daitou are your guarantee to survival.

Eventually, after what feels like an eternity, your feet touch the ground once more. The matron of the brothel hurries over, fanning herself and tugging at the collar of her kimono.

“My, what a mess. I hope you managed to put a few holes in those rascals,” she says in a husky voice. One can immediately guess she’s a heavy smoker.

She notices your unusual package.

“What’s that?”

“Haven’t you heard? (Y/N) and Daitou are parents,” Kazuya announces with gravity.

The rest of the women gather around, gasping and cheering. You elbow the blonde man, furrowing your brows in annoyance.

“Nonsense. This baby was dropped this morning in front of my building. We thought we’d-”

“Ah!”

One of the women steps forward, inspecting the basket with trembling hands. She narrates the story to you: her friend – the mother – was involved with one of the rival Family members. She’d planned on running away with her partner, you see, but escaping the biggest yakuza branch with a baby in the backseat wasn’t an easy task. She begged to drop the newborn in her friend’s care before her departure. They’d decided on a locker by the train station to perform the unusual exchange.

“I waited for hours, but she never arrived,” the woman concludes. “My God, I thought the poor kid froze to death in one of the postal boxes. She must’ve gone for the nearest convenient hideout!”

You hand her the bundle, and she scurries towards the neighbouring room to do a proper health check. Daitou follows her movements in silence.

“Don’t tell me you wanted to keep it,” you joke.

Kazuya jumps in with a smirk:

“Are you kidding me? He probably planned a whole family trip on the way here.”

The yakuza coughs dryly, a faint blush dusting his cheeks.

“D-don’t be ridiculous, man. If we’re done here, I’ll be taking miss (Y/N) home.”

The idea of starting a family with you has crossed his mind, certainly. On the other hand, Daitou isn’t in a rush by any means. He’s rather enjoying the current arrangement, and he loves having you as the most important thing in his life.

“Oh, will you be staying over?” you turn towards your boyfriend. “I haven’t finished wrapping your presents.”

He twirls the glass eye nervously. If you ask him, he’s already gotten the deal of a lifetime. You.

#yandere yakuza #yakuza x reader #daitou #yandere x reader #yandere

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thesquidgame · 4 months ago

Text

The Moments After

Hwang In-ho x wife!reader

Part One Part Two

Summary: In-ho deals with your sudden collapse while you receive treatment.

Warnings: angst, medical emergency, hospital, stitches, blood, viral infection, understaffed hospitals, trauma, violence

Word Count: 2.5k~

In-ho didn’t know how slowly time could pass before today. Sitting in the sterile white hallway of the hospital, bouncing his knee, staring down at his blood-soaked hands, every minute felt like hours. He always thought that was an exaggeration, but here, in this moment, he knew it to be true. Every now and then he would look up when he thought that at least half an hour had passed, only to find that it had been less than a minute.

After he had run you into the ER, chaos erupted. An entire medical staff instantly swarmed you, asking countless questions, all that he was almost too frazzled to answer. He told them only what he knew; that you had been acting strange lately, what strange behaviors you had, and that he woke up earlier that night to find you throwing up blood. And that you hadn’t stopped since you had started.

After that he could only focus on you, screaming your name over and over again as you blinked your eyes slowly, in a daze of blood loss and whatever had happened to you to make you throw up so much.

And then, the hand he didn’t even realize was gripping yours slipped away from his. A nurse held him back as they wheeled you into a deeper part of the hospital that he couldn’t enter. It was suddenly very quiet. Unlike the insanity that had just happened around him, there was complete and total stillness around him. He was far enough into the hospital that the noises of the ER were inaudible. In-ho never knew how quiet a hospital could be, but between the silence, the white walls, and the glacial pace of time, it felt like he was being tortured.

It had been an hour since he had arrived in the hospital, he only knew because of how often he glanced at the clock before any staff talked to him.

“Sir? Are your feet alright?” 5 AM, the time he knew the doctors changed shifts in your hospital. The man speaking was young and looked terrified by seeing a 40-year-old man covered in blood sitting in an empty hallway. “Are- are you okay?”

In-ho glanced down to see that tracks of blood were running from his feet. He just noticed the pain. He still didn’t care. “No, I need to know what’s happening to my wife?” He demanded as he stood up.

Shame washed over him. Why hadn’t he asked before? He knew the answer, he didn’t want to talk to anybody, that would make this real.

“Sir, I- I think you need to get some stitches first, your feet look-”

In-ho made the difference between him and the young doctor. He picked him up by the collar and slammed him against the wall. In-ho didn’t consider himself a violent man, but right now he had no idea what he was capable of.

“What happened to my wife.” He wasn’t asking, he was demanding.

“I- I think I need to treat your feet fi-” In-ho pushed him further into the wall.

The doctor gulped, “What- what’s her name?”

In-ho let go. “(Y/n) Hwang.”

“Nurse Hwang is your wife?” The doctor looked away.

“Yes.” In-ho had done countless trainings and interrogated countless criminals. He knew when someone was afraid of something. “Why are you looking away from me.”

The doctor started walking away, stammering, “If you come with me, I can help you find out what ha-”

“Don’t walk away from me. What aren’t you telling me.” The doctor stopped in his tracks.

When he turned around, In-ho saw tears on his cheeks. “I’m sorry. We- we didn’t know.”

In-ho stalked towards him, leaving almost no space between him and the younger man. “Didn’t know what.”

“We noticed she was acting strange. We thought- we thought it must just be stress.” He gulped, “and if it wasn’t,” he got quiet, “we didn’t know how to deal with it. We were all so stressed out all the time. We- we didn’t have any time or resources to step in or talk to her about it.”

They knew something was wrong with his wife, but they hadn’t done anything about it. In-ho wanted to grab the doctor and slam him against the wall. But he couldn’t. Hadn’t he done the same exact thing? Hadn’t he been too stressed to prod further about what was happening? In-ho thought that because you were a nurse, you would do something if you thought something was wrong, or talk to him about it. He was just as bad as them. No, he was worse. He was your husband. He was supposed to take care of you, that was what he had sworn to do on the best day of his life, your wedding day.

In-ho wanted to break down. He wanted to collapse and roll into a ball on the ground and cry. But he couldn’t. He didn’t know anything about your condition, he had to figure out what was happening, he had to do something.

In-ho croaked, “What happened to her?”

The doctor silently walked away, sensing what had just happened, and In-ho followed behind. “I’m going to see if anyone can come tell us what happened.” He pressed dials on a phone and called someone. “A doctor will be here soon. The surgery is almost over.”

Surgery? In-ho knew there was a reason that all of the doctors and nurses had rushed away and not come back, but hearing it was different than just simply knowing it.

“Can I look at the cuts on your feet?”

In-ho didn’t respond, just sat down in a chair and put his head in his hands.

It was another long wait before anyone came out to talk to In-ho, and eventually, a woman and a man came out wearing scrubs, “Mr. Hwang?”

In-ho stood up immediately, staring at the doctor who looked to be the same age as him. In-ho didn’t have to ask the question, the doctor already knew what he was waiting to hear. The other doctor sighed, “She’s alive.”

In-ho let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “My name is Dr. Park, would you like to take a seat?”

He didn’t like that. In-ho knew that tone of voice. He had used the same one at his job when he was giving bad news. “No, tell me now.”

The doctor reached up and took off his surgical cap. “Your wife had a large blood vessel in her esophagus explode, causing internal bleeding. We were able to help correct it using bands in surgery.” The doctor sighed again, as In-ho held his breath. “However, that isn’t the concerning part. There is almost always an underlying condition causing this. We sent a rush blood panel down and found that your wife’s liver results came back abnormal. We believe she has cirrhosis.”

Cirrhosis. He had only heard about this in passing when you were studying for your nursing exams. You had made a stack of notecards at least three feet tall, and he spent weeks quizzing you. In-ho had always had a good memory and was usually able to pick out pieces relating to the disease, but for some reason, he couldn’t remember anything relating to cirrhosis.

“What, what does this mean?” In-ho said, panic exuding through his voice.

“I’d like to talk further when your wife wakes up, it’s best if we discuss with the patient and the patient’s family there.”

In-ho wanted to was rush over and hit this doctor until he told him everything he wanted to know, but his priorities were still on you. He had to conserve his energy, and arguing with the doctor would only take more energy than he had to waste. “Can I see her?”

“Yes, she’s right this way.” This doctor said nothing about the blood In-ho was leaving on the floor. He had been doing this a lot longer than the other one and knew that stitches were the least important thing in In-ho’s mind at this point.

You were lying in the bed, still unconscious from surgery. “We were able to go in laparoscopically, meaning that we put a tube down her throat and operated from there.”

In-ho didn’t care about what that meant, he just rushed to your side and grabbed one of your hands in both of his. Your hands felt cold and clammy, and he looked to your side to see that there was a blood bag attached to your arm next to another one giving you other fluids.

“Is there anyone we can call for you? You were listed as her emergency contact, so we weren’t sure if you had any family you’d like us to call.” The nurse waiting next to Dr. Park asked.

In-ho didn’t pause, “Yes, my brother.” He realized that he had left his phone in your apartment in his rush to get you to the hospital. He quickly gave Jun-ho’s number and went back to directing his complete and full attention at you.

In a couple of minutes, the young doctor from before came into the room pushing a small metal cart. “Mr. Hwang, can I quickly treat your foot wounds? You won’t have to leave her side. It’s best to do it now so you won’t have to leave her side later if it gets worse.”

In-ho didn’t move, and the doctor took it as a sign to continue. The younger doctor had clearly been lectured on what best to say to the loved one of an injured person. He painstakingly pulled glass piece after glass piece out of In-ho’s foot, washed each cut carefully, and then stitched up each one. He was in miserable pain, but In-ho didn’t move. It was a small dosage of the punishment he deserved for ignoring your illness.

The doctor silently left after he was finished wrapping the wounds, and In-ho continued the self-inflicted torture he put himself through inside his head.

The door burst open, and Jun-ho rushed inside, a nurse hot on his heels. “Sir, you can’t be in here! It’s not visiting hours.”

“It’s 6:45, visiting hours start in 15 minutes,” Jun-ho said, ignoring her further protests to run forward and kneel next to his brother. “In-ho, are you alright? What happened? They wouldn’t tell me anything on the phone.”

“She’s sick. She’s really sick.” In-ho said.

Jun-ho’s face was shocked. “What are you talking about? How long has this been going on?”

“I don’t know. I- I knew something was wrong, but I didn’t think it could be this.” He paused, taking a deep breath, “she had to have surgery. She started…” In-ho shuddered, “she started throwing up blood earlier this morning, and I had to drive her to the hospital.”

Jun-ho didn’t know what to do, or say. His brother was glued to your side, so he couldn’t hug him. They had been through something slightly similar when Jun-ho was 8 and their father had died, but past it both being sick family members, everything else was different. In-ho was 20 when their dad died, and he was the one comforting Jun-ho. Now it was Jun-ho’s turn, and he had no idea how to do it.

This was his wife. The reason In-ho got out of bed in the morning; you were his entire life. Your wedding date was his passcode, and his lock screen was you on the day you graduated nursing school.

“In-ho, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what to say. Do they know what it is?”

In-ho squeezed your hand tighter, “I don’t know the details, but it’s something with her liver. It’s… It’s bad Jun-ho.”

There was nothing else for Jun-ho to say. No band-aid that could fix it, not call to anyone to change it. He sat down next to his brother, and like In-ho, waited.

It was only a couple of hours before you woke up, dazed and blinking slowly. Your eyes immediately moved towards the man holding your hand, “In-ho?”

Your voice hurt to speak, it felt like there were rusty nails in your windpipe.

“Hey, hey, it’s alright.” In-ho surged toward you, beginning to stroke your hair with his hand.

“What- what happened?” You saw In-ho’s brother push a button next to your bed.

“What do you remember?” He said, slowly and soothingly.

“I remember feeling sick, and getting up to throw up, and- and that’s it.” You said, blinking in confusion.

In-ho looked like he started to say something before a doctor and a nurse walked into the room, both of them being people you had worked with before. Dr. Park was the nicest doctor in the hospital you thought. He was a man of few words and never sugarcoated anything, but he always took care of his patients' needs. The nurse was a new hire, she was one that you always covered for, and there was a strange expression on her face.

“Ms. Hwang, I’m glad you're awake.” He said, pulling a stool forward that had been in the corner of the room.

“My husband was just about to tell me what happened.” You said, still confused at what was happening. You looked up at In-ho, and there was a look of sheer terror on his face, confusing you even further. “Honey, what’s wrong?”

He did his best to wipe that look off his face, but it didn’t really work, “nothing, I just want to hear what the doctor has to say.”

Dr. Park took a deep breath, before explaining something that would change your life forever. “Ms. Hwang, your husband brought you in early this morning after you threw up blood. He told us that you had been having some odd symptoms, and frankly, some of the staff were able to recount some for me as well. We did some blood work, and noticed some unusual things.” You held your breath. “The first thing we noticed, was that you tested positive for Hepatitis C, do you have any knowledge of this?”

You and In-ho were both shocked, “no, I- I had no idea.”

Dr. Park sighed again, a sound that was quickly becoming foreboding, “Do you have any past use of drugs, any knowledge of any family members carrying the virus, or any contact with used needles.”

And then it hit you, “Yes. When I was in my first month as a nurse I got stuck with a used needle. My boss- my boss told me that it happened to everyone at some time or another and that we were busy and had to move on.”

In-ho looked at you horrified, “Honey, what does the disease do?” He whispered, addressing you and not the doctor.

But Dr. Park cut in, “It’s a virus that can go away on its own, but other times it can stay in the body symptom-free for decades before showing harmful symptoms. It’s unlikely to be transmitted through sex, but you should get tested as well.”

While the doctor was speaking, the pieces connected in your head. Hepatitis C, vomiting up blood, the symptoms you thought were nothing. “My liver is failing, isn’t it.”

The four other people in the room turned to you. The look on In-ho’s face killed you, so you had to look away and move your glance to Dr. Park.

He stared you in the eyes, and said, “Yes, it is.”

I'm taking a break from the series, I'll probably write part three after my next fic!

Tags: @bigdaddddyyyyy @kimeungun114 @eviesmoon @jspidey5 @kyl13sm1l3y @watasinekoru @starkeyszn @multifandomgirllol @annasnape7 @sylviavf @foulbreadpaenut @unaaasz @vrystalius @ultimate-simp-10

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djcandiepaws · 2 months ago

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˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ "innocent"! yandere bf x reader

summary: you're about to go out with your girlfriends but you can't find your fave sweater but you find something much worse instead cw: dead body, implied kidnapping

God, where is it? You looked everywhere for it yet couldn’t find it. You looked under your bed, your drawers, your closet, you even looked in the dirty clothes hamper yet you still couldn’t find it.

You promised your friends you’d go out with them today since you all have been granted a break from your jobs. However, you can’t seem to find your favorite sweater. It’s a simple white sweater and it’s simplicity is what makes it your favorite.

You know what, you’re gonna search in your boyfriend’s closet. You remember that he explicitly told you days before that he doesn’t feel comfortable with you looking through his closet and that he would appreciate it if you avoided doing so. But it’s an emergency!

BUT these past few weeks, one could argue a month or so, you’ve been stranded with work. It seems like everyday your boss is demanding a new project to be completed, new papers to fill and file in, doing all that before the deadline is due, and all that for a slightly above average salary.

It’s been so exhausting, but you finally get a break and obviously you want to spend it with your favorite girls in the whole world! So with all this reasoning, you open the closet doors.

And as soon as you you're hit with a rotting smell. Like rotten meat or something. You try to brush it aside and look for your sweater. Which, probably smells like rotting too because of how strong this smell is. Nonetheless, you still want it because at least you can have closure for where it's at!

You see a bag at the top of the closet and get on your tippy toes to grab it, maybe your sweater is inside?

Then came crashing down not only the bag but a shoebox. You know you shouldn't be snooping around in your boyfriend's stuff but it's okay, you're his girlfriend, it's not like you'll judge him for anything! His secret will be safe with you.

You get on your knees and open the bag and look! It's your sweater! But as you continue dragging it out the bag you find that it's absolutely lathered in blood. Huh, that's weird. Even with the sweater out of the plastic bag there something very heavy in there. You reach to touch it and ew!.. Why is it strangely squishy? Whatever, you continuing pulling it out and when it's fully out you can't believe your eyes. What the fuck? It's a head. This has to be some kind of sick joke.

You just sit there for a few moments just staring at it with tears in your eyes. Honestly, you're waiting for someone to, I don't know, suddenly jump out from a hiding spot and say "It's a prank!"— But it never happens.

Upon further inspection, oh my god.. is that your co-worker..?

So this person, most likely your co-worker, is dead.. And in your house? The more you start filling in the gaps the more you come to a conclusion you don't like. You start hyperventilating. This can't be real. This has to be some kind of prank, or an actual reasonable explanation for this.

And then a sudden 'pang!' strikes your head and your body collapses. While your consciousness is fading into black you hear a faint voice speaking.

"I'm sorry, my love. I hope you understand that I did this all for you."

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help-itrappedmyself · 6 months ago

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Liminal Jason part 2

And, the plot bunny strikes back.

Red follows easily as Jason leads to the safe house. He spares a moment of thought towards whether Red is chatting with the whole family in the comms right now But then he focuses back on the kid in his arms. The kid is practically falling asleep, even as they grapple across buildings.

The instant faith this kid had in him was startling, and Jason has his concerns about why. But the part of his brain able to focus on concerns is trying to figure out how he trusts the kid so much already. The only information they have about him is that he can make unknown sounds, which is apparently a language Jason can communicate in. And yet Jason already knows that he would not let anything happen to this kid.

Hopefully, the kid also speaks a language the rest of the group can speak. If not they can always leave it to him and Cass, as the kids’ body language seemed close enough to normal for her unique language skills to be used.

They arrive quickly, entering through the fire escape into what could pass for a living room, in a very minimalist world. There was a couch though, and Jason went straight there to lay the kid down on it.

The kid seemed very hesitant to let go though, waking as Jason tried to put him down. A whimper leaving his mouth as he latches on to Jason’s clothes.

Jason glances quickly at Red, and then picks the kid back up and sits down on the couch himself, with the kid in his lap. Red drags one of the two folding chairs by the folding table over in front of the cough and sits down himself.

“What is happening?” Red asks. Jason gives him a withering look through the helmet, then realizes that’s not enough, and he would like to be able to speak to the kid without the voice modulator potentially freaking him out. So, he takes the helmet off and places it on the floor next to the couch. Gives Red a look he can actually see, because really what does he think is happening? Then looks down at the kid.

“Hey, kid?” Jason asks gently. The kid looks up at him. “You got a name?”

“Danny.” The kid does his best to sit up, and scooch over to his own seat on the couch, now aware of his surroundings and situation. But a rumble comes from Jason, and he doesn’t let Danny go, so he settles back down. “I’m sorry about the trouble. I didn’t mean to be so loud.”

Red looks confused at that, but Jason chooses to ignore him for now.

“I’m glad you were, so that I could find you. Are you okay?”

Danny shrugs. He lets out a hum of sad-fine. “I’m fine now. Or I will be, once I get settled.”

“Kid, you were in distress. Can you tell me what happened?”

Danny took a deep breath, and then slid away from Jason. Jason allowed it this time, and the kid curled himself into the corner of the couch, knees up to his chest and hugged them.

“My world was collapsing. Timeline deconstruction, leading to total meltdown. We were trying to get everyone to the portal, but… They thought the portal wasn’t safe. They wouldn’t listen to us, and they wouldn’t stop… One of my mentors got me through the portal. They sent me to this world. But my world is gone now.”

“Hood, can I talk to you?” Red nods his head towards the hallway.

“Right now?” Jason looks between Red and Danny, who is crying silently, that high pitched keen of distress grief-alone starting and stopping, hitching with his breath.

Jason growls, deep and strong,not-alone-mine-now.

“Yes.” Red hisses.

Danny sniffles, using his sleeve to wipe his face as he starts to give Jason a small smile.

Jason huffs. “Danny, will you be okay for a second?”

Danny nods, humming an agreement.

Jason chuffs a quick safe-promise and Danny gives him a small smile. Red taps Jason's arm, and he grunts, but gets up to follow him anyway.

“Be right back, Danny.”

Red and Jason go into the bedroom, Red closing the door behind him.

“Hood, something weird is going on.”

“Obviously, did you not hear what that kid just said?”

“No, well… yes. But that’s not what I meant.” Red starts wringing his hands together. “I don’t know how you found Danny, Hood. You said you heard a noise, and I believed you, but I didn’t hear anything that whole time. And you two keep looking like you’re communicating, but neither of you are talking, and the only things I can think of to cause something like that is telepathy or mind control.”

“Woah, wait.” Jason holds a hand up to stop Red from starting to ramble, and once he’s silent runs his fingers through his hair. “You can’t hear the kid? The noises? I mean I don’t know how I’m making the noises, that came as a surprise. But you can’t even hear them?”

“No, Hood!” Red seems very frustrated. “And if you don’t think it’s telepathy, then we have to look into other options.”

“Hey, now, wait a second.” Jason puts his whole body in front of the door, which makes Tim tense. Jason wants to tense as well, but he is trying not to escalate the situation. “Danny is not malicious. He’s a kid, and he needs help.”

Red squared himself, preparing to argue, but Jason heard a cry from the living room and was out of the room immediately, heading towards the living room with his heart pounding frantically in his chest.

Something ran into him, pushing him back against the wall, and before he could realize what it was, a syringe was in his neck and his head was getting fuzzy.

He tried to focus, keening out for Danny. Hoping Danny was okay, that he ran. He pushed away from the wall, keening again. But he didn’t hear a response before he was collapsing back. He would have fallen to the floor, but someone grabbed him. And then he was asleep.

#fanfiction #my writing #batman #danny phantom #dpxdc #dcxdp #red hood #jason todd #liminals #Jason is so close to adopting this kid #Give it like 1 more part #It's going to happen

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vixzwrites · 2 years ago

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slytherin boys: pet names for you

authors note: heavily inspired by them slytherin boys react tiktoks i keep seeing everywhere. readers gender isnt specified.

possible tw: over working yourself (idk), mention of weed/being stoned, bullying possibly if you squint, drinking

Draco Malfoy;

- darling

- i feel like he'd use it in a slightly mocking tone before you guys became offical but after it would the most common pet name he used

"you should leave harry and his friends alone!" Draco wasnt known as the nicest boy in hogwarts, which didnt suprise you after seeing his relentless behaviour to the so called 'chosen one'. "oh yeah, darling?" he quipped back. God he was insufferable.

"darling? you here?" Your boyfriend had just got back from quidditch practice. You could tell he was exhausted the way he stumbled into his dorm already taking his uniform off and slumping it into the washing basket. He worked really hard but you knew best how he could over work himself. When he saw you his face softened. You outstretched your arms allowing him to enter them. "i'm going to take a shower first." At least he was taking care of himself.

Mattheo Riddle;

- bro is such a princess/prince man

- it obviously comes with the princess/prince treatment ig

- similiar to Draco he would tease you with it before dating but after seeing you blush and stutter, why would he ever stop using it?

You had came late to Snape's lesson, which was your first mistake; struggling to find your seat was the second. "sir, there aren't any seats left." Snape glared over at you clearly bothered by your disruption. "well miss/mr (l/n) if you had not arrived late to my lesson, there may have been a seat left for you." and with that he resumed his original task. "there's a seat next to me, princess/prince." Turning your head to meet the one and only Dark Lord's son, only to see him nodding towards the empty seat next to him and his fave plastered with a big smirk. "o-oh, erm... thank you" Did he just call you princess/prince?

It was if your own knees had betrayed you giving out underneath you and causing you to collapse onto the common room couch. You were exhausted all the exams and revision had really taking it out of you, not to mention quidditch practice in the early hours of the morning. "Hey, Princess/Prince." The sound of his voice was comforting and caused you to snuggle into his side. "You okay?" before Mattheo could get a reply, you had already drifted off.

Theodore Nott;

- angel (i couldnt decide between theo and enzo)

- he wouldn't use this to tease you at all he would use it more when he's feeling soft lol

Someone's arms sneak around your waist and pull you close to their chest. Startled, you spin on your heels ready to bitch slap this boy into next week. When you're met with the handsome face of your boyfriend, that idea goes out the window. He pulls you furthur into him and rests his head in your neck. "Hello, Angel. Have you missed me?" You whine causing Theo to chuckle into your neck.

Lorenzo Berkshire;

- sweetheart

- enzo is just a soft boy being raised by women he knows how to treat them right too

The night of the yule ball was finally happening. Lorenzo had made it his mission to get you as his date and when it had finally happened, it was safe to say the boy couldnt be happier. He was on his way to collect you from your dorm. Knocking on the door, he could hear you on the other side before the door opened revealing you in your ball attire. "wow you look- you look amazing. No not amazing, you look stunning, sweetheart." You giggled at his antics. "give me a spin?" You spun showing off the outfit, pansy had helped you chose.

Blaise Zabini;

- babe

- i feel like blaise is very whiny lol and he would definitely drag out the 'e' on babe espeacially when hes stoned (i need to write a fic aboutstoned blaise hes stuck in my head)

Common room parties were common, if you excuse the pun. You had been to many through out your years in slytherin and enjoyed the laughter and fun you had. Right now though , your in need of another drink. Your boyfriend had other plans though and was determind to keep you by his side. He smelt strong of weed and alcohol, he wasn't doing much to cover up the fact he was most definately drunk and stoned. Wriggling out of his grasp, you get up to find another drink. "babeeeee! where you goin?" His words were slurred and his senstences were missing words. He will just have to deal with out you for 2 minutes, you were sure he could manage that.

Tom Riddle;

- lets be honest he'd definitely call you something degrading in and out of the bedroom

- but since we're all delulu he calls you my love

- its a rare occasion as he isn't big on pet names but he does use them

"what are you doing?" Startled by the sudden stern voice, you jump. "i was just seeing if you had a spare tie i could borrow?" You felt shy under his eyes. "oh my love, i didnt mean to scare you." He reached a hand out to you so you could take it and lead you over to his bedside draw. He pulled a tie out for you. "now lets see of i can make it up to you for scaring you."

(sorry that its so short idrk how to write for tom without making him look like a complete dick)

idk if i did this correctly but im pretty sure you can request now and id love to hear other peoples ideas. you can request anything (smut, fluff, angst, comfort etc.) for a drabble headcannon, fic etc. so pls doooo.

#slytherin boys x reader #slytherin boys #mattheo riddle headcanon #theodore nott headcannon #draco malfoy headcanon #lorenzo berkshire headcannon #tom riddle headcanon #blaise zabini headcannon #mattheo riddle x reader #theodore nott x reader #draco malfoy x reader #lorenzo berkshire x reader #tom riddle x reader #blaise zabini x reader #vixzwrites

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kykyonthemoon · 7 months ago

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Under The Weather

Zayne came to visit you when you were unwell, and turned out, you were not the only one who needed special care.

── .✦ Zayne x Female Reader|MC

♡︎. Tags: fluff, sweet, soft domestic fluff, tender loving care, established relationship, sickness, seasonal flu and usage of medication.

♡︎. Word count: ~1k

── .✦ Masterlist ♡ Request a fic - currently closed.

In a dreaming state, you woke up at midday. The doorbell rang, and you had to force yourself to move your painful, fatigued body.

Zayne was waiting for you outside. At that moment, you immediately recalled something really important.

You had stood Zayne up.

That Saturday morning was supposed to be your date at the cinema with Zayne. But in the early morning, you had a fever and ultimately fell asleep. You turned to look at the wall clock inside the room and felt even more guilty.

Zayne, though, remained silent. Just by looking at your current state, he could tell why you did not show up at the cinema. The first thing he did after entering your flat was take your temperature.

“S-Sorry, Zayne…” You mumbled while he got you some medication. “But… How was the movie?”

"I don't know." His voice echoed from the kitchen, where he was pouring a cup of water.

“Huh?… Didn't you watch it?”

Zayne appeared in front of you. In one hand he carried a few pills, and in the other a glass of warm water. He spread both of them in front of you, bending down slightly to be within your reach on the sofa.

“I bought two tickets. If I only used one, the remaining would feel very lonely.”

Despite your feeble grin, it seemed as though a bit more life had been infused into the flower that was your heart.

“Sorry that I made you wait…” You replied after taking the medication. All of a sudden, you could picture Zayne sitting by himself at the cinema, two tickets in hand, soft drinks and popcorn beside him. You were filled with guilt. You felt so guilty. “You can just call me next time, if something like this happens again.”

“I did make a call.”

"Huh? I don't remember receiving any call..."

You quickly found the phone on the table and turned it on. There were dozens of calls and messages from Zayne with no response. You must have fallen deep asleep, as you did not know anything.

Zayne lowered himself in front of you with one knee bent on the floor. He looked up at you, his hand gently ruffled your hair.

“"It's fortunate that you didn't get yourself into any trouble scarier than a fever.”

You grinned. Zayne treated you with gentleness as always. Even when you had stood him up, he did not get angry and came to your place to take care of you. All of a sudden, you were dying to kiss him. Yet when you softly closed your eyes and leaned towards his direction, your nose started to itch, causing you to sneeze violently and collapsing into Zayne instead.

He held you in his arms, caressing your soft hair. Just as you were about to sneeze again, Zayne snatched up a tissue from the table and carefully put it to your nose. Your hair was disheveled and your whole face reddened. You were still in your jammies with snowmen on them. You were so embarrassed to let him see you looking that unkempt. Zayne, though, only gave you a soft stroke on the face, saying that you should rest some more. He would take care of lunch. You drifted off into another dream right after Zayne carried you back to the bedroom.

When you woke up, he had finished preparing porridge and a light meal. Since you still wanted to make it up to Zayne for that movie both of you had missed that morning, you suggested another one at home. You curled up on the sofa, leaning against him. Remembering what he had mentioned during the meal earlier that there had been a seasonal flu epidemic in Linkon recently, you quickly rose up and moved far away from him, all the way to the other side of the sofa. Zayne rolled his eyes at you, wondering why you were acting so strange.

“I don't want to give Doctor Zayne my flu…” You clarified.

Zayne smiled, shaking his head slightly. He gradually moved towards you until you were both sitting side by side like earlier.

“I have a strong immune system. I am capable of taking care of you in every way without becoming sick."

Undoubtedly, you took Zayne's word for it and allowed him to look after you for the next few days. However, by the time you recovered, he was the one to get sick.

“I thought Doctor Zayne was so confident about his immune system.” While taking his temperature, you could not resist teasing him more.

Zayne lay on the bed without responding. His nose tip was red from excessive sneezing, and his body was heated from a fever. You took the opportunity to poke his cheek several times. His face reddened even more, and he appeared uneasy while lying still. Doctor Zayne seldom became so submissive and tolerated your bothering him to this extent.

You assisted him in taking his medication and urge him to get more rest.

“You should… go home… I'll be fine again tomorrow…” Zayne said.

"I'm not leaving. You caught the flu from me, didn't you? It is now my responsibility to take care of you until you fully recover!"

Zayne met your determined gaze. He smiled softly.

“Heal me then, Doc-tor.”

You leaned down, about to kiss him, but Zayne quickly put a hand on his lips to stop you.

“That is... not something we can do right now…”

You grimaced before giving his knuckles a tender kiss.

"So you have to make it up to me later once you get better, Doctor Zayne," you said.

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mitsua · 2 months ago

Text

DO YOU SEE HOW MUCH I LOVE YOU?

synopsis: a yandere who is a crybaby tries his best to maintain you now that you were kidnapped by him, but the moment he arrives home from work you notice his eyebags, and when he hears you call for him the first time, his whole self crumbles infront of you. (4.3k) warnings: love obsession, kidnapping, anxiety, depression, anger issues, self-harm, overworking, cursing, overthinking reader's gn a/n: literally my desired type of yandere... let me know what you think about it, i love reading your opinions!

he has kidnapped you weeks ago now, and ever since then, you have not spoke for the life of you. he even tried hearing anything you might get to say when you're all alone through the cameras he had installed for your arrival at his home, but to no avail—you haven't said anything.

he knew you might be struggling—he knew you would since the beginning—he knew you would take your time to get accostumed to this new and strange life with him, but had hopelessly thought it would be quicker and softer than whatever it's happening right now.

he knew you liked to talk yourself out whenever you were alone (or thought you were), so he didn't get it how were you standing so strong on your need to not say a word.

whenever he asks if you are hungry? if you're thirsty? cold? bored? you just look at him with those dull eyes of you, which of course had given him chills on more than one ocasion now, and he doesn't like that either—but what else can he do? he's in the edge of collapsing.

he's done everything he can to finish off work as quick as possible and try to spend more time by your side and see if something could change, expecting a miracle to happen so you'd be in a better mood and maybe finally telling him a simple yes or no when he asks if its ok to cuddle that night with you. he'd end up doing it whatever you say though—but maybe, just maybe, if you do use your voice to tell him not—he'd obey. he's got that desperate nowadays.

you got him going crazy, mind spiralling so much these days he can't focus on anything but trying to remember your voice and searching—thinking of anything that might get you to talk to him.

he's begged, he feels miserable admitting it, but he's gotten on his knees and pleaded you to voice at least one of your thoughts, to insult him or tell him how angry you feel with him—but none of that ever comes. he's left in tears, facing the floor with bruised fists of so much hitting the ground in desperation.

did you know what you were doing to him? he always thought you did, because if you didn't, you wouldn't deprive yourself so much in the sake of seeing him suffer—would you? he really hopes not, he already thinks you hate him enough but not to that extent.

weeks had turned into months and he's gotten promoted on his job to a higher rank without knowing why 'cause he's been more scattered than usual—whatever, now he's gotten a higher salary, he planned on spoiling you even more. he doesn't plan on hurting you to talk to him, no no, it's the other way around—he plans on making you the happiest ever to get to see you recover to your normal self—to smile at him.

however, as this new rank had its perks, it had its drawbacks as well. he wouldn't spend much time with you anymore and that got him thinking twice about signing the papers—but as his more depressed voice on his mind told him—if you aren't talking to him now, maybe if you miss him enough you'll do, and when he goes back home with lots of presents for you, you'll change your mind about this silent treatment nightmare.

yeah. he'd take the offer.

he didn't expect the work to be as insufferable as it has come to be, he's gotta deal with lots of clients a day while going in and out of meetings with some superiors while teaching juniors how to start with the business. to say he's going even crazier would be an understatement—he's losing his sanity.

however, something peculiar about him is that he doesn't like lashing out with the first person who makes him snap, no, he's a sensible man—a crybaby. he doesn't scream his lungs out when things aren't going his way, he doesn't grab by the collar a stupid costumer nor does he slap the shit out of those who take advantage of him because of this same reasons—he just cries, cries and hurts himself as he punches the walls that protect his dignity even by being all alone and letting all his feelings flow along his tears.

so he arrives home one of this tiring and stressing days—expecting you to be locked on your shared room, hugging your knees as close as possible to do not meet him in the eye—he expected everything to be as quiet, as cold and as dark as a cave.

he's been dealing all by himself the tasks of taking care of yourself, he's prepared some meals and had ordered take out every now and then as well, he's bought you some clothing and let you choose yourself via app to order some more or even things for hobbies he knew you had before taking you captive.

he knew the routine by now, and thinking about repeating it all over again day and day didn't bother him at all as long as he had you much than now.

he's wearing himself out for some dream he knew wasn't bound to happen until you'd let it—until you love him. until you love him too.

he was pretty confident on himself before kidnapping you it'd come to happen one day or another, but having been as long as it has already been, he's not sure anymore.

you weren't showing any signs of letting your guard down, of trusting him even a bit, nothing—you just looked so empty.

or that's what he thought at least.

when he'd first taken you from away from your life you were scared, angry, anxious and mostly, sad. you couldn't comprehend your thoughts as your mind raced miles per minute with everything that was happening at once.

there was this man who had come up with you and messily but sort of sweetly confessed his love to you, a very intense one as he let see. the next second—as you told him you didn't know him so you politely rejected his feelings—he was on you putting a cloth on your mouth and nose.

when you woke up, you were on a place you had never seen and the same man appeared and gave you a welcome—with a sheepish smile and looking like a teenager in love—told you to feel comfortable around here and to not be afraid to ask for anything, that he'd provide all your needs in the blink of an eye.

you were incredulous, you couldn't believe he was so devoted to you as to know each and every one of your likings, dislikes, hobbies, prefered music, everything. maybe he even knew you better than you knew yourself—it scared you.

how were you expected to respond to all that love bombing? you were scared and sad when he'd explained you wouldn't leave the house ever again, or atleast until he deemed it possible, as he still thought you would try to escape from him—and of course you agreed on your mind.

but you were that afraid of anything he might do that your body wouldn't obey you. you wanted to scream so loud but the only thing that ever came out were tears of frustration—tears holding the deep feelings you were holding from not talking for so long with someone else—even when he's been a "gentleman" and asked you to talk to him so many times.

you just wouldn't budge, sometimes because of the anger, some others because of fear and mostly nowadays because you were giving up your life altogether.

no one has come here, to wherever this house was. when he's turned on the tv there were no reports on missing people, you didn't have your phone either so you got no messages from family members or friends asking where were you or if you were ok, you missed all of that and wish you could matter some more to all of them to have already found you. but they hadn't—they weren't really looking that deep on anything for time to have passed so slow yet so fast that it'd already been half a year and there was nothing from them.

no one cared about you—or so you thought until you saw him one day arriving to the house looking so tired, with eyebags so marked and sluggish steps going straight to the bedroom to leave his suitcase and greet you as usual with the same sheepish smile and a kiss on your forehead. you thought no one cared about you—but as he then dragged his tired body to the kitchen to get started on making your favorite dish for the nth time on the month, you weren't so sure anymore.

you were starting to trust a little bit on him, but reprimanded yourself so hard on your mind that you were left exhausted mentally everyday with your dilemma.

you needed to distract yourself, you couldn't bear that all the things you were bottling up on your throat before they could even taste the tip of your tongue would always swirl around your mind and dreams to get turned on nightmares being awake or not so often now.

so you got up from the bed one day and took tiny and doubtfull steps to the kitchen after your kidnapper had left for work—not without giving you your forehead kiss of course.

upon arriving to your today's destiny, you put on the apron he's showed many times before to you telling you he bought specially for you for when you're on the mood of joining him to help on preparing the food for the day.

a smile crossed your features without knowing. it had a design of your favorite animal on a cartoonish style printed cutely on it.

you got a look around the shelfs and the refrigerator to mentally make a list about possible recipes you could get done with everything there is.

before living whatever the hell this all has been you see—even if you weren't so doted on it—you liked cooking. trying out recipes only you could mix up and to your contentment, the majority of your dishes would end up being to your family's and friends' liking.

you got absorbed on making a specific dish that your bad thoughts were all forgotten and replaced by the thought of seeing your plate finished and the smile of your captor when seeing it.

how would he react? would he be angry? suspicious of your sudden actions? there's no poison around here so there would be no need for him to worry about anything like that though...

you admitted you would feel a bit sad if he were to talk badly about your cooking skills, but still were adamant on trying to get it done, so persevered and as the clock hit the time he was supposed to get out of work as he's told you weeks ago for his new rank, you had plated two sets of your soup and main dish along a mini dessert at the sides.

you felt anxious—your stomach wasn't as hungry as you thought when you smelled the soup cooking up minutes ago, no—you were nervous.

as some time passed and the clock hit the next hour, you decided to take a shower to hopefully get the warm water to calm your racing heart and wild butterflies in your belly.

you put on some of the clothes you've chosen and accesories he's bought you that made you feel comfortable to turn on the tv and continue watching a movie.

however, you kept glancing the clock every five minutes approximately and grew even more anxious and disappointed when it had passed two hours since he was supposed to arrive.

he's has never begged so hard for earth to just swallow him up so many times before in a day but here he was. his boss had left on unannounced vacations for a whole month and dumped all his responsibilities on him while a new course had opened for recently graduated juniors to get experience on the area, and just when he thought it couldn't get worse—an important partner of the company had demanded a meeting with the same person missing for some stupid vacation on miami now of all times.

everytime he turned around at any room there would be a new person or a colleague asking him for favors, questions he's felt he's answered hundreds of times already, to sign so many papers he's not sure he's really doing his best to keep his signature the same 'cause his hand hurts so much. his feet are aching and his headache is doing nothing but making the day feel endless.

he wants to arrive home already—he wants to go with you even if you'd just look at your arms or knees instead of him—he's one hundred percent sure that'd be better than all this chaos.

he hadn't had the time to check out on you now that he thinks about it. but just as that thought occurs, another phone rings and he has to sit on a new chat with an angry client, slowly getting so overwhelmed with it that he forgets about checking the app on his phone that had become a salvation for moments like this—where he sees your every movement around his house, even if its not that much.

and just as he had thought—the workload wouldn't let him go rest at his designated time, no, it would prolong until two more hours later of suffering. he wanted to cry so bad now.

when the last colleague had left and the company's lights finally turned off, he almost felt his soul leave his body from relief.

he tried his best to grab his things and return home as quick as possible, but his swollen feet from all the walking around offices, dizzy mind and buzzing ears made it an impossible task. he stumbled upon every stone on his path to his car, almost crashed it and could be seen sleeping on every red light.

he wanted to be with you right on that instant so badly he swore he could die happily even if that was the last thing he did.

as he parked his car and as carefully and silently as he could opened the front door to do not wake you—he let out a sigh he didn't know he was holding all the way until here, closing his arms and trying to stretch his legs for the muscles to relax now that he's in a safe space.

when he opened his eyes, the first thing he noticed was the turned on tv with the netflix warning reading "are you still watching?" for when a show had ended but no movement was made after some minutes. then, his eyes instantely fell on the back of your head resting on the couch of the living room. he took more steps in in the way of your bedroom to leave his suitcase as always—but the scene before it left him astonished.

the table was set up—cutlery placed neatly and deliciously looking food put on the bowls and plain dishes it made his mouth water almost instantly, but most importantly, his heart started beating fast and his cheeks reddened. soon, his eyes let out all his frustrations from the day into salty tears and broken sobs came from his dry throat and deeply overwhelmed mind and heart.

you had prepared it. you prepared all this for the two of you. the set for the other person accross the table was untouched which meant you hadn't eaten either. you were waiting for him too—you waited for him. to eat dinner—to eat dinner together.

he felt like he died and reborn once more. he wasn't taking it easy and dropped his suitcase without thinking the noise would startle you. his hands going straight to his eyes to stop his with his waterfalls and choke down his sobs.

you woke up startled by the noise of... him crying? oh no, he'd arrived and you've fallen asleep! he's already seen the surprise but maybe he hadn't like it? you felt terrible, your stomach dropping upon seeing him desperately rubbing his eyes and crumbling on the dining room's floor.

you got up and came behind him, taking into account that because of his loud crying he hadnt' noticed you. you got worried for him—just as you got worried all those times ago when he'd cry and beg for you to talk and look at him—you didn't like seeing him cry, but he wouldn't stop.

so you spoke.

"hey," something as simple as that but you did it. something you hadn't done for the almost seven months you've been trapped with someone you barely knew but had told you he'd fallen deeply in love with you—with someone who'd spent everyday since then showing you—his in fact—endless love for you.

he stopped his crying immediately, shoulders tensing and mind short-circuiting. did you just—did you just talk to him?

"i-i'm sorry if it's not of your liking, i-i just-i just thought about making dinner but never really asked for permission-i'm-i'm so sorry"—you rambled, now that you started speaking you couldn't really stop yourself anymore.

your mind now freely spoke everything it came to it, forgetting about the overthinking you did about the right moments or right words—you just did it.

he wasn't really reacting. how could he? he didn't know what to do or say—many things he's dreamed of had happened in the spawn of five minutes since he's arrived.

he turned slowly to face you, the light hitting him from the back didn't let his swollen red eyes and runny nose from all the crying be seen easily—but you could see his form shivering—he's holding his tears back now. just as you got surprised by the sudden recover of your voice, he also was.

so you spoke up again, but this time with your actions.

you took some steps closer to him—coming face to face with his chest as he was a lot taller than you—and wrapped your arms around him.

you were doing anything before thinking further on it, really. he started crying even harder this time. almost making you retract yourself but you didn't—you didn't want to let go.

he's proved you he would mantain you—he's given you some kind of freedom under his roof and brought you so many things that on your previous lifestyle you could only dream of. he's talked for the two of you all this time you were deprived of it—even if he felt bad about it—he never hurt you or said bad things to you. he encouraged you to, he really demonstrated he did all of what he did because of love.

and you've fallen for it.

now that he had everything he's asked for he couldn't react as he thought he would. he thought that whenever it was that you would hug him first, he'd instantely reciprocate the affection and drown you whole on it. he'd smother you with tons of kisses and tell you so many cheesy lines even he'd feel grossed out from them, but he wouldn't care 'cause you wouldn't care either, you'd be happy—happy together.

after some minutes of you holding him together on your arms as he sobbed out uncomprehensible lines and looked at you through blurry eyes, you ended the hug and unconsciously moved your hands to take place on both of his cheeks so sweetly—so carefully as he if he's made of porcelain—and stared into his eyes so deeply his knees got weak, your eyes were full of love—they were screaming it—he could hear it.

you've fallen for him—you've really done it.

you looked from his wide-puppy-like eyes to his lips as if asking permission for sealing this silent promise of eternal love you've sentenced upon the two of you since you hugged him.

he nodded his head a little and sucked in a breath as if preparing for what's to come. you reached closer—neither closing your eyes just yet until you connected your lips with his.

it felt as if the world stopped for seconds—it felt right—so damn right. he finally got rid of his frozen posture and placed one of his hands on behind your head and the other on your hips to pull you closer, while you focused on laying all your emotions for him on that kiss—that special and never-forgettable moment you'd just share.

you lasted some seconds more until he pulled away to look at you in the eye, look at you already looking at him—not like all those times in the past when he'd have to search for your eyes—you shared the same warmth as he's shared for you all this time until now, for him.

"i love you so much," his mouth let out, reciting it out in the open once again as he's done for so many nights on the past even if you didn't tell him anything.

but to his surprise, today you'd decided to reciprocate it. "i love you too."

four words, eleven vocal tones united to form four words that all come together meaning such a common yet powerful feeling humans feel for another—another human or thing, moment or memory—this being confessed only when seem proper, mostly when two people mean it, not without a risk of course—risk of losing it all but said with the confidence of it not happening. said with the hope it won't—hoping this love would flourish into something deeper and comfortable in many forms, the forms of a house, a family—an eternity together.

four words that made him remember why he's loved you so much and felt all his time spent on you was worth every single second.

"i'm so happy with you, i-i love you," he repeated, this time taking your hands on his bigger ones, and his smile so big that his teeth were showing and eyes almost closing resembling that of a child getting the latest toy they wanted.

you squeezed softly and started to walk without letting go, to the table—only doing so when you went to take out the chair for him to have a seat and gently indicating him so, picking up the cold plates and going to warm them up in the microwave.

he's eyes never left your form—just as when he'd watch you while doing paperwork through the cameras—he was and would always be infatuated with you. he felt so blessed in that moment and thanked whatever came to his mind for what was happening.

as much as he'd like to help you out right now—he just felt so tired and so enraptured with your movements that he stayed still until you returned with the food and placed it down again on its place, smiling softly at him and taking a seat too.

he took the first bite, already thinking it would taste delicious if it came from you, savoring it he noticed how wrong he was—it tasted heavenly. his face relaxed and he started eating faster, devoring everything as his now more than empty stomach begged for some food after the long hours he's spent without eating.

you took it as a good sign and felt relieved—finally digging in—you both finished fairly quickly and as you were about to wash the dishes, he came behind you saying, "let me get those done, you've already cooked for the both of us, it's the least i can do."

"no, you've just come from working, and if i decided to cook then i'm in charge of cleaning them too." you defended, taking the gloves and almost putting them on before he negotiated, "then what about doing them tomorrow, i'm so tired right now i'd like to just hug you all night." he smirked after seeing you ponder for a bit, he got you.

"fine... i'll-i''ll wake up early to clean them before you even think of doing so!" you claimed, taking off the gloves and tangling your arm around his, both of you walking to the bedroom.

"i'll undo the bed, you can go change," you offered, going up to it and starting to place the decorative pillows on the armchair next to the desk in the bedroom—where he'd often spend restless nights firstly figuring out his plan to get you, and when he'd gotten you—nights planning out how to get you to fall for him, now he's watching you place those pillows yourself, undoing the bed and taking place on it as if you were already a married couple.

he changed to his pajamas carelessly, tossing his uniform on his wardrobe and shoes long-forgotten somewhere on the carpeted floor of the dressing room that covered the whole bedroom as well.

he then let himself fall on the bed, arms looking out immediately for your body and wrapped gently yet tightly around you, taking a deep breath on the side of your neck and letting all his worries vanish from his mind by having you all to himself like this.

"good night," you whispered, hands going to play with his hair and caressing it softly as if petting a cat, he felt like he'd most definitely end up purring too.

"good night, my love."

here's my yandere OC's m.list if you wanna read more! remember you can ask to be tagged at any of the fandoms i write for ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡

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luna-cove · 7 months ago

Text

Double Trouble | Luke and Kieran ft. Sylus

✧ summary: you take a quick liking to luke and kieran, they do the same.

✧ pairing: luke x female reader, kieran x female reader, sylus x female reader

✧ word count: 9.5K

✧ genre: smut, slight angst and fluff

✧ warnings: explicit sexual content, porn with little/no plot, dubious consent, manipulation, exhibitionism, voyeurism, threesome, vaginal sex, dirty talk, blindfolds, rough sex, oral sex(m! and f! receiving), masturbation, mask kink, fingering, finger sucking, face fucking, teasing, creampie, choking, degradation, praise kink, name-calling, pet names, switch!reader kinda,

✧ a/n: i posted this two months ago?? on ao3?? yeah so this was my first ever smut so it’s not great but i’m learning lmao. enjoy and be kind. this was inspired by milkandstarlight on here and one of their posts abt the twins <3

You woke up with your wrists and ankles bound and in a random man's car. You must of finally made it to the N109 Zone.

Your mind was still hazy from the drugs wearing off. Everything was happening so fast and the next thing you knew you were thrown on the ground, the dried grass straching against your palms that caught yourself. Dead trees adorned the dark gray, cloudy sky. You say a mausoleum not far from you, assuming it must a been a cemetry before the incident that happend years ago. A man appeared in front of you, only pulled out a knife and start searching over your body for the Aether Core as he held it near your throat. Like an angel from above, you heard a voice call out.

"Kidnapping Onychinus' prey without letting us know... That's not exactly polite."

The sky turned a light red at the voice. The man got behind you at the sound, the knife now closer to your throat than before. That feeling of a savior went as quickly it came. Another called out once more.

"She's ours, by the way. We called dibs a long time ago."

A black smoke cloud with red light streaks appeared out of nowhere and sliced the assailant's arm. The knife falling out of his hand and onto the ground. You followed shortly after as the man tried to get away. The cloud of red and black appeared again, this time revealing a masked individual in its mist. He stood tall, dressed in black with red accents to his outfit and mask. A hood with two red devil horns covered him.

"I'm really curious... She's brave enough to drink from a black glass."

He turned toward you, as he walked over another individual basically identical appeared behind him from the mist. Your kidnapper had failed to escape, dropping to his knees right in front of the second masked man who stepped on his back and pushed him further into the ground. A small cloud came from his hand, before it registered in your mind, it quickly darted across your kidnapper's throat. The sound of the blade could be heard and then you saw a pool of blood on the cobblestone. The man collapsed forward before he dissipated into ash.

"What will she do when backed into a corner..." One of them pondered as he sauntered up to you alongside the other.

Truthfully, it had you feeling something unexplainable.

"You're pretty bold for releasing information about the Aether Core into the Nest like that." The second said.

"Explains why boss is so interested."

"Where is he?"

"He said to wait."

"Well, how long?"

The two bickered between each other. Brothers, no doubt. They turned back to you, the attention making you freeze, not that the restraints gave you much to work with. However, you didn't expect them to pick you up and sit you down a woren down concerte slab. One on each side and for far too long was it quiet with no head of Onychinus showing.

"I'm bored." One sighed. "I am truly getting curious... About that backed into a corner thing."

The masked man was now sitting next to you in closer than ever. It was just a mask looking at you but you felt like he could see the deepest parts of your soul.

"Luke, you know Sylus will be here any moment." The other reminded him. "Not the time. Leave her alone."

"She's so pretty..." Luke said sweetly as his nimble fingers reached up to push a strand of your hair behind your ear. "Don't you think, Kieran?"

He didn't answer. All you could see was his back turned to the both of you with his arms crossed. You looked back at the one named Luke who's thigh still touched your own.

"What's your name, pretty?" He asked. "Boss never told us."

"Y/n..." You spoke up.

"Well, Y/n..." He leaned before he whispered mischievously, "Would you like to play with me?"

You backed away to look at the man in front you, partly surprised at his bluntness as you knew exactly what he meant by 'play' and the other part of you was intrigued by him.

"The boss would be very mad if you were to mess with his new toy." Kieran interrupted.

"Toy?" You scoffed at him. "Yes... I want to play with you. Both of you, actually."

"So ambitious." Luke chuckled. "Did you hear that, Kieran? She wants to take both of us."

"But Sylus-"

"What he doesn't know won't hurt him. We just have to be quick, that's all."

It clicked that they meant right there and then, in the open. It was secluded but the thought of the possibility of being caught was somewhat thrilling. In an attempt to find any sort of relief you clenched around nothing.

"You're okay with that right, Princess?" Luke questioned, his hand smoothing over your jean cladded thigh.

He wanted nothing more than to rip them off of you. The way your cheeks flushed, the way your eyes were hazed over and the sudden instense body heat that radiated off of you already told him the answer. The nodding of your head just confirmed it and within moments you lost your sight as he asked his brother for help. A dark piece of cloth came to blindfold you and all you could rely on was your other senses as you were surrounded by two men you just met. You could hear Kieran behind you take off his mask and put it on the concrete as you felt one of his brother's hand caress down the curve of your waist to rest on the band of your pants. It lingered just above where you needed for far too long to your liking. Your heavy breathing became pants before you bucked your hips.

"Do something, please." You begged.

"Eager now, are we?" Kieran murmured into your ear as he pushed your hair over to your other shoulder.

Suddenly, you felt his lips leave gentle but long kisses on the skin of your exposed neck, he pulled back the fabric of your shirt down to leave a longer trail on your shoulder. The sound of the blade rang in the air and your ankles relax as the rope fell to the ground. You felt Luke move to your side before his hand trailed down your abdomen and into your underwear as you spread your legs. The way his fingertips immediately brushed so softly over your clit has you sigh as you jolt before and relaxing into his brother's chest. You whimpered as he rubbed gently circles into the bud.

"You're so wet and we've barely done anything." You could hear the smile and pride in his voice when he said that. "What got you that way? Tell me."

You didn't respond to him. He rubbed your clit with more pressure which had you gasping and squirming in Kieran's embrace as he left little bites on your tender skin.

"Tell me." Luke repeated.

"Just the way you came in... I don't know, the way you say things, the way you fought the kidnapper and everything... I found it hot. You looked hot, fuck."

You were humiliated, falling apart for these two and for what? They both laughed.

"You don't even know what we look like." Luke taunted. "Is it the masks? Do they turn you on? Is it the mystery?"

"It's cute." Kieran chimed in.

From behind, a hand came up and gripped your jaw to pull you closer before crashing his lips against yours. Your tongues brush against each other. It was so dirty and messy in contrast to how light and sweet his touch remained on your cheek. It was so intoxicating... Suddenly, the rough rope wasn't digging into your wrists anymore and you couldn't help but reach behind and find your hand in Kieran's soft hair in an effort to keep in close as he took your breath away. Luke's slender fingers found their way further down, teasing your entrance with light touches that had you whining against the other's lips as you desperately searched for a way to satisfy the growing heat inbetween your legs.

"She's being so good... Taking us both and not running away." Kieran pulled away from your lips to tell his brother. "We don't have much time, hurry up for her sake at least."

The sensation of two digits plunging into you while his thumb rubbed against your clit had you moaning as you threw your head back against the other's shoulder. You were so pathetically desperate for them. You let out little whimpers and moans which each thrust in and out of her fingers. It started so agonizing slow before speeding up and you couldn't but try to chase the feelings with your hips. You could feel Kieran's hard-on from behind and every move from you was torturous. Despite his discomfort, he continued to nibble and lick on the sweet spots of your neck as he ran his hands up and down your body. All of your pleasure was interrupted by a phone ringing, coming from the boy behind you.

"It's Sylus."

"Shit."

Luke took his hand out of your pants so quickly. You sighed in disappointment, it felt like you had a pool in your underwear. It was so cold the way the fabric sat against you. You found yourself clenching around nothing once more. You felt fingers from Kieran against your lips.

"Suck." He whispered the demand in your ear.

Without a thought, you followed the ordered as he picked up the phone. Not even paying attention to the phone call happening behind you.

"We'll be there as soon as possible, Boss."

The sound of the phone disconnecting was heard. It was brief but the silence in the air was so thick. You released his fingers with a 'pop'

"What did he say?" Luke questioned.

"He's not coming, something came up." The other answered.

"So we have more time with her."

"We can't be suspicious but a little. So, move."

Kieran got up, leaving you dazed as you heard him shuffling around next to you. He ordered his brother to move you over. You felt hands run over your clothed thighs.

"Do you want to cum, princess?” He asked.

”Please…” You cried, begging for a release of any kind.

Still blind, in the matter of seconds you were exposed from the waist down. Cloth could be felt against your skin rather than concrete. Cool air hit your core. Your legs fell apart instantly, pleading for some type of stimuli in between. Hands gripped your thighs as more shuffling could be heard. You fully expected to feel a hand once more but the presence of warm breath hit you. A long, slow strip was licked up your heat that caused you to let an embarrassing high pitched moan. A few kitten licks followed. You felt fingers tease your folds, picking up slick before falling deep into you. A tongue lapped at your bud in such a delicious way as the digits instead you slowly build up pace. You squirmed in other’s lap, mouth agape with small whines and sinister moans escaping every now and again. You grabbed at Luke who was now behind you in an attempt to ground yourself as you humped his brother’s tongue in desperation.

“With the way you act at just at some fingers and tongue…” He started as he held your hands tighter. “I can’t wait to see how wild you’ll go on my cock… You’d look so pretty taking all of me.”

You whimper in response. The lust was insatiable at this point and like a possession.

“Wanna cum—So bad—I want more.” You whined out. “I want both of you inside of me… Please.”

Kieran came to a halt which cause you to collapse weakly as you breathed heavy.

“Oh, sweetheart. You’re getting ahead of yourself, aren’t you?” Kieran asked, the sound of a belt buckle becoming undone and dropping to the ground. “Can you really take both of us, let alone me?”

”Fuck me, please!” You cried out. “I wanna be filled up so bad.”

It felt painful, them constantly building you up with no release. You were ready to lose it if you hadn’t already. You laid there, helplessly in silence waiting for something to happen. The lack of touch was unbearable but you still feel them around you. A hand came to touch your thigh and move it upward, exposing you to the hair once more.

Something hard and warm rubbed against your folds finally. You let out a sigh of relief, knowing soon enough you’ll have what you’ve been craving.

”It’s not fair that you get her first.” One whined, obviously Luke.

”Maybe you shouldn’t have been such a tease then.” Kieran retorted. “I’m just giving her what she asked for.”

The head of his cock throbbed against your clit. The feeling disappeared within moments, a thumb came to make gentle motions on your bud as you finally felt the tip enter you. He tenses until he reaches the hilt and feel him relax against you as he falls forward to rest his forehead on your shoulder just for a moment. He lets out a breathy grunt in your ear.

”So fucking tight.” He whispered.

Heat radiated off of him. His words unintentionally make you clench around his member causing him to let out a high pitch moan in your ear. He ruts into you so deeply, your head rolls back into his brother’s lap. The steady pace of him hitting all the right areas within your walls had you screaming and shaking with pleasure as you encourage him to keep going in between out of breath moans.

”More—Harder—Faster…” You begged, you hand resting against his abdomen, the touch sending shocks of pleasure straight down into his cock.

”Whatever you want, princess.”

Kieran’s hands come up to grab your waist to lift you up against him, snapping his hips against yours as the sounds of skins slapping against each other echoed around you. Your mouth fell agape once more as you whined out almost pornographically. Your eyes rolled back behind the blindfold as he reached deep within you, hitting everything so perfectly.

So lost in your own world with Kieran, you had forgotten about the other masked man before you felt his lips against your ear.

”Will you help me out, sweetheart?” He asks, softly. “You‘re doing so well…”

You could only imagine how painful it must’ve felt as you reach out toward him. Your hand traveling over his body until it rested on the restricted bulge that you rubbed over causing him to hiss. The familiar sound of a belt becoming unbuckled could be such. You were shocked to feel something soft touch your lips.

”Suck me off, please.” He pleaded with a moan.

He’d be lying if he said seeing you suck his brother’s fingers off while he was on the phone didn’t do something to him. The way your tongue swirled around his fingers and the drool around your lips made him feel so primal almost.

His voice… The way he begged and asked so politely, it went straight to your core and instinctively your tongue came out to lick over the slit before your lips wrapped around his tip, giving him a light suck as little sighs of relief spilled from him. You release it, a string of salvia still connecting between the two of you. You lick the underside of his shaft from the base up that caused a jolt in him before you eagerly take all of him in your mouth.

Taken back, he lets out a long moan and pulls your hair back as he watches the way you bob your head up and down on him. He throws his head as he can’t help but buck his hips into your mouth at the sight of you getting fucked out.

His pace quickened. You choked a bit as his cock hit the back of your throat. Jaw aching, tears pricked your eyes. You moaned against him as Kieran is ramming into relentlessly, one hand rubbing circles into your clit that slowly accelerated while the other found its way under your shirt and bra to squeeze your nipple.

“Oh fuck, Y/n.” You heard Luke curse, his hips began to falter against your nose.

He speeds up for a few seconds, hitting the back of your throat without a care beside his own pleasure before he slows down. A warm, thick liquid hits your tongue. As hot cum fills your mouth as a reflex you swallow it all. The only evidence left being the little bits of cum that spilled over lips.

“Such a good girl…” Luke moaned before he wiped the cum away from your mouth.

He grabbed your face to leave a kiss on your lips, tasting the saltiness left over from him. It was oddly sweet considering what just happened prior. You sighed against his lips, swiping your tongue along his bottom lip before his lips parted to let your tongues meet one another.

Pants and heavy breathing filled the air as Kieran still fucked into you. You moaned into the other’s mouth as he got dangerously close to your sweet spot, the stimulation on your clit intensifying it all. His thrusts began to become more erratic, the friction on your bud increasing. You cried out as he abused that spot inside you.

”Fuck yes, yes, yes!” You screamed, going crazy as Luke held you.

You felt yourself getting closer and closer, reaching out for Kieran in front of you holding onto his waist as plowed into you. You felt a wave of pleasure wash over you, letting out a pathetically long, high-pitch moan. You withered in Luke’s arms as he kissed up and down your neck as you made an attempt to drag out your orgasm as long as possible on the other’s length.

The way you grind yourself and squeeze against him sent him over the edge. His hips slowed as you felt the sensation of warm cum coat your walls that had you letting out gasp. Kieran leaned down, leaving a long bit deep kiss on your lips as he finished his final thrusts before he pulled out. You winced at the sudden feeling of emptiness within you and the lose of the other behind you. Cum started to leak out of you and drip down your thighs and onto the cloth beneath. You lay there against hard surface, catching your breath.

“So pretty.” You heard one of them mumble.

You didn’t expect your vision to come back so quickly. Looking around, you found them both dressed with their masks back on. You felt something swipe over your thigh, realizing it was the thing just around your eyes now wiping up the mess made. You reached out to grab the man’s wrist in an effort to stop him.

”You didn’t get a turn.” You said, weakly.

”Another time, princess.” He laughed. “You’re too considerate.”

He got done cleaning you up as best as possible, discarding the soiled items while the other help you stand up and get dressed.

“How can you tell us apart?” Kieran asked as you stepped back into your shoes.

”Your voices are different…” You told.

”Whose do you like better?”

It’d had been difficult some time since you entered the N109 Zone. You met Sylus, leader of Onychinus. The man was intimidating and looking into his eyes had you feeling like he knew everything about you. A voice would appear in your head whenever you met his gaze. It was quite odd and against your own wishes, you ended up shooting the guy and being knocked out for a day.

You wondered, could he tell what his servants just did to you? Could he tell how much you enjoyed it and wanted something to happen again? No way… If it was that much an issue like the twins made it seem to be messing around with you. You wouldn’t have woken up with both of them looking at you.

You found yourself spending most of your time with Sylus when he was awake. However, when he was asleep you always found yourself with Luke and Kieran for hours on end… Their boss would be sleeping in the room next to theirs while they had you taking one of them from behind as the other sat in front of you, holding your face and telling you how good you were being before they switched.

You began to realize they were very different in the realm of sex. Luke would always praise you but Kieran, he liked to degrade you. Luke liked to edge you, the way you fell apart on him after all the built up gave him a sense of pride. He was usually more gentle with you and his pacing to get to your orgasms while his brother would rail you and overstimulate you, loving the way you’d become a drooling mess. Their stamina was insane

You found yourself under Kieran who held your wrists as he fucked up into you one night. Luke massaged your clit with one hand as he stroked his own length with the other from the side. You were litter with little love bites from the both of them. The bed frame creaked against the wall adding to the excitement of Sylus finding out and walking in the scene.

Your eyes rolled back at the idea as you bit your lip to suppress a moan from slipping pass. The brutal, quick thrusts stopped and turned into long, drawn out ones that hit you hard once Kieran did snap his hips into you. You let out a small moan at the uncharacteristic thing of him.

”We want to hear you.” He said.

”But Sylus…” You sighed out at the feeling of his hips meeting yours before slowly being dragged out.

He chuckles, “I’m inside of you right now. I can feel you clench around me every time the bed frame creaks. I feel you every time you can hear him stir in his sleep and how you relax when he goes back to snoring. You like the idea of him knowing and seeing you like this, don’t you?”

You shook your head against the pillow. A sharp motion of his hips had his tip reach that spot inside you that had you yelp with no way to cover your mouth.

”You’re lying.” He said. “You want him to see you all filled up with our cum, all fucked out and dumb from us. You want him to see what a slut you are and you want him to treat you the same way.”

A clench around his shaft at the words was just a confirmation before he started back up with his relentless pounding into you that had you whining as you approached your orgasmed and found yourself under the other for the nth time that day.

They seemed to pick up on much more than their boss. Whenever the two of you got home from somewhere, they could tell when Sylus did something that unintentionally got you hot and bothered. He wasn’t going to take care of it so they were always so kind to do so. Sometimes so kind to try and recreate what happened with a twist.

“Relax. You can handle it.” Luke whispered into your ear as he aligned himself with your entrance.

He opened your palm with his hand before intertwining your fingers with his. It was much more gentle than the encounter with Sylus and also Kieran’s recreation but maybe gentle was the you need to end this session with them as soon this time would need to come to an end for the sake of normality.

A few hours of sleep was never enough time for recovery from the twins. You were barely able to walk normal out into the dining room were Sylus and them all sat eating a meal. The boys snickered to one another and even teased you about it in front him which was odd considering they were the ones wanting to hide it. The man with white hair and piercing eyes never said anything or even batted an eye at their teasing. You’d blush about it still and further in the day you’d be annoyed with the little pranks they’d pull on you whenever their boss was around.

You always got distance during the day but at night they’d always start luring you back with kisses and promises of pleasure. However the next time, in their room, they told you they only reason they did it was so nothing seemed suspicious. Whenever they had guest they’d tease and mess with them in the way they did in front of Sylus. You were the only guest they teased and messed with in other ways. They didn’t want to bite the hand that feeds them.

Once you were aware of this, you started to give as good as you get. You'd pull Kieran around the corner asking to show him something and once hidden behind a wall you'd grab his hand just to wrap your lips around his fingers and such while looking up at him with doe eyes. Sylus quite literally always in the next room eating or doing something else at a leisurely pace. with the potential of him catching you both. The first time stunned him but it almost became a game of how many times you could do it. It didn't stop there, sometimes you'd pull Luke away to make out with him. The other started to get jealous that you weren't taking him behind a wall to kiss and they'd start to fight over who got to sneak away with you which you'd smile at.

Other times it was one of them sneaking their hands down your panties as you tried to stay as quiet as possible while bucking in their hand or them getting on their knees and pull your shorts and underwear aside to get a taste and lick you up and down as you covered your mouth with your head thrown back. The rest of the time, it was their turn where you'd take one of them away and end up on your knees for them, a hand in your hair always guiding you at a pace they selected as they bucked their own hips accordingly or your hand would be wrapped around their length as their masks came to rest just above your lips allowing you hid their moans from the mere feets away.

It wasn’t always sex, they knew you needed a break with the way they pushed you. Sometimes, it was just talking on their bed or playing a game. They refused to take off their masks no matter what you did or said. You became familiar with only the sight of their pink lips as they would only lift their masks so far off. It was the one thing you hated while also loving it. Seeing them in their masks as they were deep into you, their own grunts and moans leaking out did something to you and you had no idea why. But if you wanted to be kissed anywhere by either of them at all while they gave countless orgasms, you’d have to be blindfolded or one would have to cover your eyes. They always refused and they never told you the reason.

”Why do I never get to see your faces?” You whined as Luke’s fingers traced shapes up and down your arms as you laid between him in Kieran.

”You like the masks.” He said, softly. “We don’t want to ruin what you like.”

“I would like you both either way.” You admitted.

With the amount of times the both of them had flipped you into different positions, fucked you in multiple parts of the estate and had finished in you, you think the would’ve realized that by now.

“Who would you like more?”

Maybe it was the mystery of it. It killed you because it felt like the final barrier between you all. You wanted to see their faces contort in pleasure as you sink down on them. You wanted to see them try to hold back their own noises of bliss. You wanted to see them desperate for you in their entirety.

The best you get to that was pinning Luke to the bed one night. While riding him, your hand snaked up to his throat to squeeze lightly. A choked moaned came threw which had you smirking. Your other hand rested on his shoulder as you bounced yourself up and down on his shaft, giving him a show as you let out whines and little phrases of encouragement to him while out of breath that him twitching inside of you as you tried to speed up.

You weren’t on your high horse for long before Kieran came and lifted you off only to have you sink down on him. You’re back to his rest while on his lap, he held your legs wide open. Planting his feet into the mattress, he used his momentum to fuck into you as your mouth hung open, letting out pitiful gasps. The other now in front of you, knowing exactly what you want in that moment as one of his hand reached to rub your bud while the other situated his mask just above his lips so he could comfortably kiss you and swallow your noises.

”Such a good cum slut.” He snickered as he filled you up to brim.

You hated how much you loved it. The feeling of being so full but also empty. You hated how much you loved them being the reasons behind all your orgasm.

He knew what you liked. They both did by the way your walls would wrap even tighter around them whenever they did something or said something new.

As much as they liked those incredibly intimate moments with you, they liked just being with you, knowing more about you as a person. They were attached you and began to wonder what they’d do when you had to leave because that time was coming sooner or later with that auction approaching. They didn’t let you know but they were already planning rendezvouses to Linkon for you.

Sylus set you up on a little mission to find a broach he hid somewhere. However, they saw you be thrown out of his room multiple times within the last few hours and saw you disappear behind the doors again recently. You hadn’t been seen again so maybe it was a good thing for you but when you opened the door they could hear the shower running.

They looked at each other as the door clicked closed, silently hoping to one another that it wasn’t time to cross that road just yet… However, it wasn’t longer after that they heard the door swing open.

”Leave. I’m going to bed.” A deep voice sighed as a thud could be heard before the door slammed shut.

You were cursing under your breath as you entered the study. You threw yourself on the couch. A notepad rest in your lap, scribbling a way in it angrily as your grumbled to yourself, unaware of the twins’ presence in the room with you.

“You're pulling your hair out over this, huh?” Kieran asked, gently, catching your attention. “If you want to do something, maybe we can help you.”

You looked up to see him sitting on the desk, looking at you over his shoulder while his brother sat in a chair next to him, his chin resting in his hand.

“What do you mean?” You poured.

”If you want to conquer our boss's heart, you'll have to use a different approach.” Luke informed you while leaning back in his chair before pulling out a book and opening it to cite something."For some people, they get bored once they have everything. So only those who dare to challenge their authority can catch their interest."

He closed the book, resting it on the table as you walked up to take it in your hands.

"When you're dealing with such a person, you bow down and submit or take them out in one go.” Kieran picked up where his brother left off. “In other words—“

A pair of handcuffs and gun where thrown on the surface before you, leaving you puzzled.

“Strike when they’re off guard.” They said in unison.

”Boss is the least guarded when he's sleeping.” Kieran told you.

”You only have one shot. Don't waste this chance. Just do it!” Luke encouraged you. “You’re blushing… What happened in there?”

Part of you hoped, he wouldn’t noticed. It didn’t help when the other reached out to you.

”You’re so warm too…” Kieran pointed out. “You’re in the mood, aren’t you?”

“Yes…” You felt guilty at the confession. “I went in when he was taking a shower and then he walked out in just a short towel. He just had to catch me eavesdropping too and then he basically tied me up with his evol and I’m tired of it.”

They chuckled at you as your cheeks appeared brighter. Usually now, you’d be taken care of for hours but as they walked up to you all they did was pull up their masks a bit to leave kisses on both your cheeks.

”You don’t have much time.” Luke reminded you. “As I said, you have to take your chance now. I promise to take care of you later once you get what you need.”

He left a gentle kiss on your forehead.

”One more for good luck.” Kieran said before leaving a kiss on your lips.

They put their masks back down as they saw you walk away. The door closed behind you and energy in the air shifted immediately once you no longer stood there with them.

“You know what we just did, right?” Kieran asked his brother.

”I know, unfortunately.” Luke sighed.

Sylus did not like being handcuff to his bed by you in attempt to get the broach. The gun was only full of confetti, a mortifying betrayal.

”You’re so gullible, kitten.” The man snickered.

At least you got the broach though.

Your clothes laid discarded on the floor. The bed creaked, the sounds of screams and pants filled the air alongside skin slapping. Sweat covered your body and cum started to cake your thighs. You don’t know how long you had been there or how many times Sylus made you cum around his fingers, tongue and cock.

Overstimulated, the brushing of his robe tickles you with every thrust that had you letting out quiet whines. You laid there with your face against the mattress and ass up in the air. Sylus’ hands gripped your hips so hard to bring you back on him, hard. Your walls snug around him as you cried out for more. His hand grabbed your jaw to lift your head up as his thrust got harder against you.

“So eager, sweetie.” He teased you. “You were never disgusted by me, were you? You were just mad I didn’t fuck you. You could’ve just said something. I would’ve gladly taken care of you sooner. How many rounds have we’ve gone and you’re still not tired? So pathetic and desperate.”

You let out a helpless moan in response, finally opening your eyes long enough to look back at the white haired man. However, something out of the corner of your eyes caught your attention. You’d know those masks anywhere and they were peaking out from the doorway, watching you. You froze up a little bit as you noticed them but you knew deep down you liked the fact that they were there watching, with no way to do anything. You liked it even more when you could see the both of them with bulges in their pants.

Nothing would ever be true payback but you had to try at least…

You got up weakly, the arms shaking underneath you as Sylus continued.

“Wait.” You panted. “I want to try something.”

His thrusts slowed only for him to be able to put more force in them. You cried as you collapsed forward the mattress.

”Don’t tell me what to do, sweetie.” He grunted, bitterly.

His pace picked up again. Sore and weak, you mustered up all your strength to pull yourself flush against him. You’re back now against his bare, muscular torso. You threw your head back on his chest as you used his sides as a way to pick up momentum to match his thrusts whatsoever.

You looked at him with doe eyes as you gasped for air, absolutely letting yourself get lost in the pleasure while repeatedly sinking on him. Your eyes rolled back as he used the opportunity to leave bites on your exposed neck already sprouting red marks. You looked back at the door way, the twins still there and looking in as they watch you act like you’re getting the best sex of your life.

You let them see the way you throw yourself back on him as you call out of his name breathlessly and begged to cum. Something about knowing they were watching as you stretched around the man that held power over them did something unexplainable to you. He grabbed onto your hips tightly, his tongue now brushing against yours as you whined into his mouth at his thrusts becoming more erratic and rough.

You forgot they were there… Your eyes not so much as glancing at them enraged them as well as the uncomfortable feeling in between their thighs that would have no resolve. They both stormed down the hall, away from Sylus’ room but it didn’t matter. They could still hear you scream his name and moans which made their blood boil in a way it shouldn’t of.

You don’t remember falling asleep under the black silk sheets that belonged to Sylus. The white haired man was fast asleep next to you. Everything felt oddly clean… You do vaguely remember cleaning you up afterward, letting you shower and borrow a sweater off his. He brought you to bed after, the sheets fresh. It was unexpected of him, uncharacteristically sweet of him. You fully anticipated him telling you to get out as soon as he used you but he didn’t.

Maybe you were wrong about him.

You slipped out of his bed. The lost of warmth next to him made him stir a bit in his sleep. You look at him to make sure he doesn’t wake up as you quietly start on a mission to sneak out of his room. When you go to turn your attention to the door, Luke and Kieran stand in front of you all of a sudden. It takes you aback for a moment and then you remember how pissed off you are at them. You immediately push pass them and they follow shortly behind you into the hallway.

”Hey, where are you going?” Luke asked.

”To my room.” You respond, rather bitterly. “Leave me alone.”

”We’re sorry.” Kieran sighed.

His words stopped you as you slowly turned around to glare at the twins who looked rather guilty.

”So you did know?” You scoffed. “God, I was really hoping you didn’t because then it’d be so much easier. I’m so fucking mad at you both!”

”He only told us so much so not really…”

“We didn’t know it was going to happen.”

”Only a feeling, huh? And you didn’t even care to share that me? You’re both suppose to be the ones I’m closest to. How am I suppose to trust you two if you don’t tell me things?”

“We want to! But he could tell we want to say something to you and we just couldn’t… You know how he is. We’re sorry again, Y/n. We can’t say that enough...”

The way they stood there with their heads down. Truthfully, you couldn’t be mad at them. You loved them too much. They knew you want Sylus at some point anyway.

“Make it up to me.” You demanded.

”Huh?” They asked in unison.

”You heard me.” You said.

”How?”

“Like you haven’t done it before. I know seeing another man in me ticked you both off. At least, I hope it did so you both learn your lesson.”

They nodded which had you smiling before they ran over to you to lift up their masks and exchange kisses before take you to their room. You were thrown on their mattress in the matter of seconds after the door opened. A familiar blindfold came to cover your eyes as you heard both their masks come to rest on their nightstand. Your body became hot with kisses sernaded by the both them, long licks over the right spots. Their hands roamed over your body, carress certain parts, gripping and massaging the others which had you gasping between long kisses you shared with the both of them.

You felt one’s hand come to rest against your heat over your panties that whined at at as the other’s hand lifted up the knitted sweater over your chest. You felt a pair of lips wrap itself around your nipple, teeth lightly brushing against it that you had you arching up. A brief slurping sound of the bud being sucked could be heard before you felt the unknown twin start to lap at it with his tongue. The hand continued to rub against you at such an agonizing slow pace. Your essence starting to leave a dark spot on the cloth and coat his fingers slighly. You whined at the sudden lost of friction but was presently surpised to feel a kiss on top of your underwear causing you to jolt and buck your hips at the stimulation.

Most definitely Luke...

Right as you felt a finger hook around the soaked cloth of your panties, it stopped.

"Stop, I have an idea." He told his brother before you heard shared, indistinct whispers exchanged between the both of them.

High of lust, you didn't fully process them lifting you up and moving elsewhere. That was until you found yourself on a much harder surface. Your underwear came off in a swift motion. Your thighs found a familiar place on what was presumably Luke's shoulder as he dragged you closer to him. The blindfold came off, your eyes squinting as they adjusted to the increase in light around, Looking around, you saw the sheets on the bed in front of you bunched up. Your eyes widened as you saw the tuffs of white hair peak out from the sheets. You were in Sylus' room, on his couch. The tongue leaving a sudden stripe over you had all the worry disspate for a moment as you clenched around nothing, biting your lip yearning for more. Luke teases you on his tongue, never quite hitting the spot you need but getting so close which has you throwing your head back on the couch. You find Kieran behind the couch, his hands running over you shoulders passed the bunched up sweater to gently pinch your nipples between his fingers. You thrashed against the couch, grinding against the other's tongue, the beak of his mask that concede his identity, digging into you as you watched the bed occupied by a sleeping Sylus in front of you with hooded eyes.

"What a slut." Kieran degraded you, the beak of his mask running up the side of your neck as he whispered in your ear. "Your still wearing his sweater while two different people pleasure you... In his room where he could wake up any moment and see how desprate you are to let annyone ruin you."

You felt the flutter in your core at his words, Luke focuing more at the way his long flicks your bud in-between your legs. You grab the top of his head, tongue now flat against you to let you grind on his tongue until he can taste your sweet release on him as you shake, mouth agape as you let out heavy breaths. He comes up from between your thighs, his chin covered in liquid as he leans in allowing you to taste yourself on him.

"What's next, princess?" He asked, smile on his lips that peeked out from under the mask, chin still covered in your essence.

"I need you inside of me..." You shamelessly confessed.

They were trying to make it up to you so you knew they’d just give in today to make you happy.

”Which one?”

You saw an opportunity to mess when with them.

”I want Luke.” You said as you grabbed onto Kieran behind you.

They looked at each other, probably puzzled because it never mattered how dumb they fucked you, you’d always know the difference between them. However, they didn’t say anything as the other came to sit down on the couch.

You wasted no time in straddling his lap once he took a seat. You took his hard cock into your hand and lined up with your entrance before sinking down abruptly causing him to let out a small grunt as you did, a hand coming to rest on your waist. Unexpectedly for him, your hand wrapped around his throat. You bit your lip as you tightly squeeze it. You didn’t anticipate a loud moan to leave him as you looked back to make sure Sylus was still asleep. You didn’t expect to feel him twitch inside of you and grab at your waist as an attempt to bring you closer.

Kieran never let you take control. You didn’t expect him to like it, you didn’t think you’d get away with it either. You thought he was going to flip you over onto the couch and without regard to the others in the room, just fuck you into the sofa. Yet, he was still under you, letting you rock back and forth for your own pleasure.

The lack of powerfulness with Kieran turned you on even more. Your other hand came to rest on his shoulder to aid you and bouncing up and down on his shaft that his head lolled back on the back of the couch. His fingers digged into your skin as you could hear him try to control his volume. His thighs tensed under you ever so often, his tip twitching inside of you every time your walls hugged him tighter.

”And you call me a slut.” You chuckled bitterly into his ear, his hands freezing. “Yet, you’re loving the fact that I’m in control, fucking you in front of your sleeping boss and we could be caught at anymore. You’re the whore.”

”You knew it was me?” Kieran choked at as your grip on his throat became tighter causing him to moan helplessly.

He always called you a slut while Luke always told you were a good girl.

”Payback.” You smirked. “Now, be a good boy and cum for me, hmm?”

He took this as a sign to grip onto your waist, thrusts into you by his own accord. Moans and grunts escaped his lips as you occasionally squeezed the sides of his throat even tighter, ones that went straight to your core that caused your walls to hug him even tighter. You could feel his pace shorten and become inconsistent, knowing he was close.

”I’m going to cum…” He whimpered out, stroking your ego to see him like this.

”Hmm,” You hummed, your other hand sneaking behind the mask to grip at his hair as you felt him approach the edge. “Not in me you’re not.”

You got up too quickly for him to process. He whined as thick, white ribbons spurted out and dripped down his shaft and onto his thighs. He desperately bucked up into nothing. He heaved out as his cock twitched, releasing the last of his seed.

You crawled over to Luke who sat on the other side of the sofa. He was so lost in the pleasure he was given himself as he thrusted upward into his fist as he moaned quietly. The way he squeezed himself ever so often with his hand cover in precum was reminiscent of teasing, like he was trying to the milk the longevity of it. He didn’t realize you were there until he felt you between his legs. The way you looked up at him so sweetly but also so lustful, he swore he could’ve bust right then and there.

”I want you to cum in me.” You whispered to him, in a low sensual tone.

”You don’t have to tell me twice.” He sighed, blissfully.

You two swapped places. Your head now laid against the armrest of the sofa as he situated himself between your thighs. He separated your folds before positioning himself at your entrance. He slowly bottom out in you causing you both let out sighs of relief. Your eyes rolled back at the feeling of being full. You grabbed at the armrest behind you as Luke started with a firm thrust into you. He pulled up the knitted sweater that still adorned your body, just over your chest to see the way your breasts bounced up at every meeting of his hips against yours. You could feel the way he somehow got harder at the sight of it like you hadn’t been in this position countless times. The scene of you taking him so well as your mouth hung agape, your eyes looking at him so desperate for more motivated him to keep up with sharp and hard thrusts into you.

You looked over at Sylus’ bed where he somehow remained asleep despite the wet sounds mixed with skin against skin right across from him. The only difference being you could now see his sleeping face as he flipped over. The idea of him seeing you like this… You just couldn’t get over it for some reason. Luke felt you squeeze around him and saw you looking at Sylus. His hand came to your chin to turn your attention to him.

”Hey, look at me, princess.” He breathed, the masking moving to the side to leave a sweet kiss on your lips. “So dirty… Loving the idea of him waking up to you getting fucked out by his henchmen in his room. Such a good slut, taking me while he’s just a few feet away.”

You let out a whiny moan as melted underneath his touch at his words. He never called you that before but the small praise mixed in made you go crazy. You clench around him as he picked up the pace in you. Your hands flew to his waist to bring him closer to you with your head thrown back on the arm rest. Moans of ours filled the empty space along with the noises of your bodies syncing with each other.

He collapsed forward, caging you in his arms as he ruts into you. Kisses littering your neck along with his familiar praises in your ear and his grunts that fueled you. You look over his shoulder at the other across the couch.

His cock in his palm. Pathetic strokes from the base up. The white liquid acting a lubricant as he tries to speed up but whines out at the sensitivity of it all. You enjoyed the idea of him touching himself at the thought of you so desperately a little too much. You always liked to see each one alone, lost in their own world as they moaned out your name when they thought you weren’t there. They never got mad when you walked in on them or happened to see. Truth to be told, they loved letting you see how much they needed you. It often turned into times alone with each respective twin that were never uttered to the other because jealousy ran deep when it came to you.

Luke could tell you weren’t paying attention to him like he asked. He felt hurt as you clenched around him knowing fell well you were looking at Kieran. The kisses ceased immediately and you lost the feeling of him inside of you that made you cry. He sat up on the couch, pulling you into his lap and had you sink down on him. With no time to really process, you felt a harsh thrust meet your hips sending you toward. Your hands gripped the coffee table in front of you. You looked up to see you now had the view of Sylus in bed once more. Your walls hugged Luke’s length as the sight hit you.

His hands grabbed your hips to allow himself to pound into you as your heart raced in your chest. You wanted to scream out so badly at him hitting the right spot inside of you over and over again. It felt too good, you were going crazy as you trembled and clawed at the coffee table for any way to ground yourself. His arms wrapped around your waist from behind. He hugged you into his chest and felt familiar lips along your neck. You could feel his cheek nuzzle against your hair and don’t quite remember a point in which he could’ve removed his mask.

”If only he could see how good you’re being for me.” Luke groaned softly into your ear. “You’d love that though. You’d put on a little show for him just like you did for us earlier. You’re so filthy… You’re our litle slut, aren’t you, hmm?”

All you do was moan quietly at his words and nod as the way he pulled you back on him made you lose control. It’s like they switched today but something about it was so attractive to you.

“What was that, sweetheart? I couldn’t quite hear you.” He taunted as he slowed which made you whine.

”Yes, Luke!” You breath. “M’need to cum—need you to cum inside of me. Fuck me…”

”You said it, not me.” He chuckled.

He left a light kiss on your cheek before he picked up his pace again. You gasped as one of his arms stayed wrapped around you waist, tightly and his other arm traveled down your body. His fingers found their way to a familiar bud between your legs. As soon as his fingertips started to make circular motions against it, you were seeing stars as he fucked up into you. You panted and whined, your eyes fixed on Sylus sleeping as you tried to keep your noises to a minimum.

Every time you squeezed around him, he’d let out a satisfied sigh. He whispered praises in your ear, nibbling on your neck and you could feel that familiar knot building up in you. You felt electricity in your body.

”Gonna cum—Gonna cum!” You whined out to which Luke speed up the stroke against your bed and the pace.

You shook as a wave of pleasure washed over you. Instinctively, rocking your hips against him as you whined and your rolled back. Shortly after, you heard him groan and felt hot, thick liquid paint your insides. The feeling had you biting your lip as you rested yourself against his chest. He used your hips to push every taste drop into you. His cum started to drip out of you and onto the couch. His cock slipping out of you do to the loss of friction.

Heavy breathing filled the room and you looked over at Kieran who was even messier than before which had you smiling. Your eyes were covered up unexpectedly as you felt Luke leave a longing kiss on your lips.

“Such a good girl…” He sighed.

“Don’t say things like that unless you want to go another round.” You huffed.

“You’d like it as much as we do.” You could hear the smile in Kieran’s voice. “We should clean and go before the boss wakes up…”

With their masks back on, Luke carried you out of the room while his brother stayed behind. Showered and cleaned up, he let you wear one of his shirts to bed and you slept soundly under the sheets. He watched you from the doorway of the bathroom after his shower, arms crossed as he sighed. He was already missing you.

His brother quietly entered their room.

”He did wake up?” Luke questioned.

”Dead to the world like usual.” Kieran answered. “Kind of impressive all that didn’t wake him up…”

His twin pushed pass him to get to the bathroom, ready to climb into the shower. He stood there looking at you, plagued by the thought that sooner or later you’d have to choose one or none. That idea killed him because no one really won in that situation.

“Hey, Mephisto wasn’t in the room, right?”

Oh shit…

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