#He was on my arm :pensive:

[p0tat0-g0ddess]

majestick

[gojooooo]

😭😭😭 that’s his tiger cub your honor. his little monkey if you will. you cannot separate them i’m sorry it’s against the rules (source: because i said so)

[4ce160-art]

I think I'm getting the hang of the art style (ish), I've given up on trying to draw the eyes show-accurate for now lmao-

[alexiroflife]

Okay but imagine if Sukuna's fav concubine successfully runs away from court life because she's tired of the bullying and walking around eggshells with Sukuna? (bonus points if he continues to be with other concubines) She ends up working in an orphanage or something ☠️ But do you think Sukuna will look for her or not???? 🤔🤔🤔 (manifesting that it's an angst to comfort 😌😌😌🤞🤞)

“betrayal”

heian era sukuna, just a tad different from the exact request but with the same principle

ryomen sukuna x concubine!reader

Synopsis: sukuna wakes one morning to find that you, his favorite concubine, are nowhere to be found. now, he must make your absence everyone else's problem.

to sum it up: you do not understand your relationship with sukuna, and it burdens you more to endure the abuse you receive from his favoritism than to stay

WC: 5,760

Warning(s): suggestive themessss, destructive treatment of some concubines, violence, twinge of angst

“WHERE IS SHE?!”

Sukuna’s voice is a roaring boom of thunder that can be heard even from the farthest floors of his grand estate, its bass shaking the walls as servants and concubines alike tremble upon hearing it.

The quivering hearts of those nearby are not at all settled when the sharp, alarming symphony of glass shattering and furniture toppling resounds against the wooden floorboards and into the meticulously decorated wallpaper. A line of servants stand directly outside of Sukuna's quarters with sweat beading down their foreheads, serving to provide assistance if or whenever the lord calls for it.

And those who could keep far away, they avoid stepping anywhere near the vicinity of a raging Ryomen Sukuna for fear that the next thing broken will not be an antique lamp but their heads.

Sukuna's order of women, specifically, cower in their chambers, listening carefully to muffled noises so distant from them to catch even a glimpse of what may happen next. Concubines decked in floral kimonos huddle together, staring up at the ceiling with each crumble of debris that showers from overhead as a result of the large king's monstrous frame thudding about.

Uraume stands alone within Sukuna's chambers, having been called there directly, doing their best to keep a professionally calm face despite the subconscious jolt in their shoulders every time one of Sukuna's arms thrusts down into yet another expense that they will have to add to the day's damages when it.

"My lord," the king's right hand begins pensively, sneaking a hand out from its regal place within the cuffs of their kimono as the salmon haired demon resorts to furiously pacing back and forth. The white-haired servant tries their best to keep their balance with each step he takes, which could only be described as the parade of an elephant dancing around mice. "The handmaidens, butlers, and I have searched everywhere for her. There is no trace of her left in the estate."

Another loud crash shoots throughout the room, Uraume wincing yet quickly regaining their composure once Sukuna's crimson eyes snap back to them lividly. Uraume has seen their master in many forms, including anger, but this rage levels that of which they have seen displayed in him before. Sukuna's practically a ticking time bomb, waiting to explode with his arms swinging heavily at his sides, one occasionally switching to swipe over his chin, another propping over his hip temporarily. He's antsy, frighteningly so, and Uraume unfortunately, for the first time, has no clue what to do in this situation.

Mainly because this entire tantrum has been sparked by you, a lowly concubine, who has dared to betray her king's trust and loyalty to sneak off without a word. No one knows how long you have been gone, as it is the early morning, but Sukuna took notice the moment he began his day.

The entire estate is well aware of Sukuna's selective favoritism over you, though no one is exactly sure how it started. You are fairly new as well, having been with them for about half a year when the other concubines and servants have been lingering around for far longer.

When the King of Curses was first led to you, your kneeling stance with your head bowed to your hands and your beautiful purple kimono draping over your figure to the ground, he had little interest in you. Sure, your figure looked appealing on a general basis, and granted the demon had not even allowed himself five seconds to truly look at you, but he is unimpressed until your head raises and your (e/c) eyes meet his on command.

There is something in your gaze that Sukuna decided stands out against the desperate pleas whispering in those of previous concubines. Perhaps a bit of pain... disdain... a sourness that you attempt to mask with the generous warmth of your (s/c) skin and butterfly lashes, rather involuntarily, and Sukuna has to pause as he stares down at you with indifference.

Are you angry? He knows that the concubines in his care are hardly treated nicely by those bringing them to his feet, but boo hoo. You're a woman, and a concubine at that. If you're wallowing over unfair treatment, then you surely have no place in his brothel.

But then, you hold his stare for as long as he examines you. His eyes scatter over your features, taking them in silently with no care for whether you are growing nervous under him. Even if you are, however, he can not tell. Your eyes are so clear as if they have never told a lie, and you are not challenging him but giving him the opportunity to soak you in even longer.

"Stand," he suddenly, gruffly orders, and you do with such poise. You close your eyes politely and push yourself to your feet slowly, opening your eyes once more once you are on your feet.

Hell, you're tiny, much like the rest of the women compared to all of his seven foot glory, yet you do not shrink under his shadow. You stand proud, serene, as though you know you are a rare prize, and Sukuna can do nothing but make a strange noise of unitelligible affirmation under his breath before turning on his heel and leaving the room.

"Send her to my chambers in an hour. I shall see if this lowly woman can appease me."

And by the grace of his name, you do.

He doesn't even have to be inside you for longer than a second to be completely thrown by your warmth, the way your tight cunt responds to him so obediently after he's bullied one of his lengths into your drooling hole, the plush of your ass gripped lethally within his claws and drawing strands of blood as he plows into you inhumanely.

And you take it. You whine, and groan, and cry, but you beg for more and thank him for every monstrous inch he gives you. He does not even mean to go over his normal set time with his concubines of about twenty minutes when he finds he's been fucking you for hours, and your body is still with him.

You've become a babbling, tear-stained, overstimulated mess with your fingers digging into the pillow that your face is smashed in, his second throbbing cock well situated now into your bum as he thrusts relentlessly like some sort of vicious animal. You're aching, trembling and hardly speaking a lick of sense, but Sukuna only pushes you farther, for he just can not get enough.

Consequently, you slowly begin to find yourself in his bed once a week, then twice, then about three or four times... then maybe twice in a day, and hell, why not just drag you along with him as much as he possibly can all seven days of the week?

Sukuna takes an immense liking to you, so much so that he begins to allow you to speak less and less formally with him behind closed doors. He'd ridicule you for being late, and with politeness still soaked in your voice, you'd say something smart like:

"I was not aware that thirty seconds was considered late, my lord."

Sukuna knows then that he's begun to let you get away with too much, yet as he fucks you into next week as punishment, he tells himself internally that he could get used to this.

You are far more than beauty. You are class, grace, and character that the other concubines severely lack, and the next thing you know, Sukuna is ordering you to sit on his thigh upon his throne with him as he listens to citizens or servants speak.

The salmon-haired demon has attempted to entertain other selections of his concubines, simply to conduct an experiment for himself if he can still derive pleasure from the others, but after at least ten rather boring fucks with women who are not you, he concludes that you are the best of them. Of them all.

And you are so humble, taking on his attention. You walk about the halls as though you are no more special than the others, which you are, and it has the girls boiling over the top with jealousy.

The bullying starts rather quickly after your favoritism is known.

You return to your quarters to find your bedding ripped apart, or feel elbows jab into your back as you pass by that is often brushed off as an "accident" with a conniving snicker and a toss of hair, or insults splattered in ink all over the inside of your kimonos that you can not wash out.

You have never brought this to Sukuna's attention, for you felt there was no need, especially since all of you are under his care despite the feuds spreading about. Whenever you need a new kimono or sheets, you go to Uraume, who asks no questions and simply replaces the things damaged. They already know what’s going on, and though they recognize you as a favorite, they do not share anything with Sukuna either on the direct order that he should not be bothered by concubine business unless it has to do with him.

And that is what you are. A concubine, no matter how the lord favors you, how often he tells you with his fangs dipped into your neck and his fingers gripping any limb of your body that it feels as though you are made for him. No matter how delicately he has begun to grip your waist when you approach him, dull eyes glinting with lust and interest as he stares down at you and you up at him. No matter how your heart has begun it’s pitter patter each time he addresses you by your name, something he has not bothered to learn from the others but has sworn to remember by you.

You were still one of hundreds of women here to serve only for Sukuna’s pleasure. You’re a number, and while Sukuna may not see you as such any longer, the other concubines ensure that you remember your place and who you are.

You’re a secure woman, and initially you did not allow the insecurities of others to impact you, but as the cruelty and frequency of the bullying increases, it wears down your tolerance bit by bit. Nudging turns to pinching and shoving, you can no longer eat in their presence without food landing in your hair or down your clothes, and you barely sleep at night for fear that one of them will come to harm in you in your slumber as they have on many occasions prior.

And you’re tired. So very tired. Sukuna himself even begins to notice a shift in you, how dull your eyes look when you meet him and how quiet you have become. He has demanded you tell him what is wrong, which you always reply that you have not gotten enough sleep, which is not necessarily untrue, and Sukuna has no reason not to believe it because he is not aware of the world that transpires amid the concubines when they are not actively serving him.

He is no fool, though. He has an inkling that something is going on, but he holds off on saying anything. He waits, watches.

But unfortunately, he has waited too long when you decide upon yourself that you can not take this torment anymore, that you are no more worthy of Sukuna than then next peasant. That both you and him would be better if you parted, if he no longer had a woman to favor that created such profound rifts within the community.

There is no place for you, a concubine hopelessly in love with your lord, within the estate. Sukuna feeds off of your unspoken and unknowns affections, and it has created nothing but hell for you and everyone else. So you vanish.

And Sukuna is pissed.

“You mean to tell me that she just fucking left in the middle of the night and nobody saw her?” he seethes. “You did not see her?!”

Uraume takes in a deep breath. “Unfortunately not, my lord. I was in the kitchen all night making preparations for today’s courses as usual. I’m sure the other servants were asleep as well.”

“That ungrateful brat,” he addresses you as if cursing you, your name a sweet, sick poison on his tongue. “She’s got some fucking nerve.”

“It is appalling that a concubine would do such a thing as flee your court,” Uraume instantly agrees.

“After everything I’ve given her!” he grows angrier by the second, thinking back to the privilege he bestowed upon you. You dare now to make him look weak? Another fist lands into a vase that smashes it to pieces, the memory too overwhelming to mull over without feeling as though he is going to murder someone. “When I get my hands on that girl…”

“How would you like to proceed? I have men already on the hunt-“

“Send them back.”

“…Pardon, my lord?” Uraume blinks.

“You know I do not enjoy repeating myself, Uraume.”

“I apologize. I will-“

“I want every one of them back in this estate. No one is to come or go, and if they do they shall suffer directly at my hand,” Sukuna snarls. "I will look for her myself."

Uraume bows their head. “Yes, my lord.”

“And what of the concubines?” he grunts.

“What of them?”

“I find it hard to believe that they did not hear (Y/n) take her leave, nor think it a matter not to inform me of immediately.”

Sukuna stops his pacing, standing heavily in the middle of the room as he glares to the side now in thought.

“It would be wise to inform you that when I asked them about her disappearance before coming here, they all behaved as though they were unsure of what was going on,” Uraume speaks with a hint of disdain, and Sukuna’s eyes darken.

Slowly, it pieces together that they have something to do with this.

“All of them in the throne room. Now.”

-

Petrified faces line before Sukuna as he uncharacteristically stands before his throne rather than sits, his personal arm candy nowhere to be found and frankly making him all the more uneased. Uraume, who has rounded up the women, stands to the side as they all kneel in rows on the floor, shivering with fear.

"Someone start talking," Sukuna's voice grumbles out, so menacingly, so deep that it shakes the women's cores. Those who bully you have lost any lick of confidence they found in your wake as they keep their widened eyes to the floor, mouths clamped shut, paralyzed with fear. "Do not play dumb with me. I know you all know exactly what I am referring to."

Silence filters the air, the concubines unsure of how to proceed or what to say.

"Where is she?"

The question ehcoes again, and "she" falls like a boulder crushing to the earth. You are so prized that Sukuna does not even need to address you by your name for everyone to know who he is talking about. It makes their blood boil, to be petrified on behalf of your absence. What makes you so special anyway?

"Your lord has asked you a question," Uraume adds firmly, fueling the tension within the room. "I suggest one of you answers it."

"Must I begin punishing you one by one until you learn to use your mouths and speak when I ask you to?" Sukuna fumes when he is still met with nothing, and this threat finally encourages on concubine to twitch her head slightly then speak.

A brunette girl. One of your abusers.

"We do not know where (Y/n) is, Lord Sukuna," she says with a trembling voice, head still bowed. "We... we woke, and she was gone-"

"And yet no one said a word until I took notice, and Uraume in turn."

She whimpers. "We did not think to-"

"Silence." She stops, for Sukuna can read rather clearly through her facade. He can read the energy of the entire room, in fact. It does not seem that any one of these women cares very much about your whereabouts or what has happened to you, almost as though they wanted you go in the first place. "You," he gestures to a short haired woman, who takes the risk of peeking upward to ensure that Sukuna is addressing her, for somehow she just knew.

She quickly looks back down. "Yes, Lord Sukuna?"

"Tell me why (Y/n) ran away."

She gulps, eyes scattering over the floor as she conjures up a response. "I do not know, my Lord."

The king's eyes slim, one set of burly arms crossed over his chest. His patience, at this point, is non-existent. He needs to know where you are. He needs to find you know, and so help anyone who got in his way.

"Liar," he says.

With the flick of his wrist, a slicing motion resounds through the air followed by a pitched scream of agony. The victim stares down in hair as her hands fly from her wrists within an instant, sprouting blood from her wrists and pooling over the floor. The concubines grow aware of the action, having no choice but to look up upon hearing such a sound and panic at the sight of blood and the woman now stripped of her hands.

"Now, let me make myself perfectly clear," Sukuna announces over the rise of cries throughout the room. Uraume closes their eyes with a deep sigh, watching everything unfold. "The next one of you who dares to lie to my face will lose more than just her hands. Understood?"

Warbled sobs of understanding and nods flutter about the room while short haired woman struggles to sit up, lifting her trembling limbs to her teary eyes with quivering parted lips of shock. It does not take long before she is passing out, and Sukuna rolls his eyes.

"Uraume, get her out of here."

Once the wounded woman is removed from the environment, a pool of blood left in her spot and trailing behind her, the concubines double down into sniveling submission.

"Why did (Y/n) leave?" he repeats.

Suddenly, overlapping voices jump out with their own explanations in desperate attempts to plead their cases. Sukuna's eye twitches as he listens on for only a few seconds before shutting it down.

"I do not recall telling you all to ramble ontop of each other. Speak one at a fucking time. Tch. You should know better than that."

The room dips into instant silence, followed by one meek voice that speaks out. “S-She never said anything about leaving,” she shivers.

"Of course she didn't, that would have defeated the purpose of sneaking away," Sukuna growls. "Clearly, however, something has transpired within this group to encourage her to leave, am I mistaken?"

"Yes, my lord. I'm sure, my lord," she is quick to go along, for she is not one of your bullies and Sukuna can tell by the look on her face and the way she obliviously rambles on. "Perhaps... she felt unwelcome...?"

And oh, there it is. The icing on the cake, the very piece that sets those guilty for your absence into a momentary state of shock and solidifies Sukuna's assumptions.

"Unwelcome?" he cocks a brow, reciting the word slowly. "By who."

The crimson eyed king's eyes do not miss the way the concubine flashes a glance over to the brunette from earlier swiftly, only to look back down and swallow hard.

With a slow tilt of his head, Sukuna follows her brief line of sight with a hum. While he may not know just exactly what has been transpiring between you and some of these women, he knows that he has identified one involved. One who likely pushed you to run off so disrespectfully.

Sukuna does not know what it is about you that has him driven onto the brink of insanity due to your absence. He knows its not just because of sex, because he can find sex anywhere. He's surrounded by women who provide those services. There's something about you specifically though that makes fucking feel less of a habit, a simple release for pleasure and more so a desire, a thrill, a need. A need with you.

It's your company that he has grown so accostumed to, his frequent access to you, and to be stripped of it so suddenly is a crime in itself. You can not deprive the King of Curses of the very thing you were hired to do. You can not just leave and expect him not to scrounge and burn every corner of this earth until he finds you and punishes you for putting him through the trouble of searching for you. You're a brat. A pain, and Sukuna somehow needs you around, so when he looks the brunette woman dead in the eye, he knows he has to kill her.

Sukuna leaves the concubines traumatized when he treks out to look for you on his own, scorching earth, terrorizing villagers, destroying home after home in search for you and somehow you still are not within his grasp.

Citizens retreat scramble about and retreat to safety, trembling in fear as your name rings out through the air like a battle cry, flame flittering into the call as though hell itself is beckoning you. There is no building that Sukuna does not plan to visit, no alleyway unsearched, no creak unexplored, and just when the demon feels he is prepared to slaughter a nation, you hear a distant cry of your name from afar.

A shiver licks its way down your spine and you jump, whipping your head around.

"(Y/n)?" a gentle, present woman's voice calls from behind you. "That is your name, isn't it?"

Your brows draw together and a pit develops in your stomach, eyes to the door of the orphanage you took shelter in miles away from Sukuna's estate. "...Yes," you say slowly, mind distracted.

"Strange. I think I just heard someone calling you from somewhere."

-

You don't know why you follow the voice.

You left for a reason. You'd been gone since the middle of the night, and you had promised not to return, but you follow his voice anyway as though it beckons you. You always knew better than to ignore the King of Curse's when he calls you, and you can't say that you have prepared to outgrow the habit. Not within the mere hours you have been absent.

The real reason you go back, you want to tell yourself, is to prevent Sukuna from disturbing the peace of the shelter you sought in confidence. You know that if you heard him from where you were staying, he would have continued to make his way further and further down until he found you, and you were not fond of the idea of him tormenting innocent women and children for your sake.

And while you expected to be greeted by an irritated Sukuna, you did not expect the scene that greets you when you round a street corner blocks down during your walk.

You halt in your tracks, heat greeting your skin. Your eyes go wide, your face falls, and before you lay a street aglow with the aftermath of what looks like the tosses of flame and fire. Ash flitters into the sky, windows of businesses are broken, and the entirety of the brick street is empty save for debris and dying flames. It looks as though some kind of bomb or explosion went off and those within the vicinity either fled or got caught in the attack.

Your hands go to your mouth as you study the scene in shock, your skin going cold despite the heat.

You are too entrapped with your shock to notice the shadow that envelopes you from behind when it first arrives. Its eerily quiet, save for the crackle of lingering fire ahead, and you go to take a step back in fear when you hit something hard.

You tense completely, pupils shrinking and gaze unfocusing. You recognize the feeling, the smell, the heat. You recognize the sheer unfathomable mass towering over you without having to turn around, the raw surge of evil that potrudes and surrounds you, caging you in normally so enticingly, but this time so terrifyingly.

You swipe your tongue over your lip anxiously, your heartbeat rapidly hammering into your chest. You shouldn't turn around. You shouldn't look up. You know what will happen, but you can't help yourself. You can not fight the urge as you slowly twist your head around and tilt your chin upward to meet the glowing pairs of red eyes that you'd grown to adore searing down at you from so far above.

You breathe heavily, caught in the lock of Sukuna's wild glare. He appears almost feral with anger to you, some sort of sick enraged smirk twisting onto his face that is anything but kind. You don't say a word as the street burns behind you and your hands stick stiffly to your sides.

"Care to explain what the hell you are doing?"

You know that tone of voice so well by now. It is monotone and low, almost inaudible with its bass yet it carries so crisply. It comes of as calm, but the underlying emotion is anything but. He is pissed, if that is not clear enough from his face and stature, and if you were anyone else you think you'd be dead, but Sukuna's values his possessions and his means of true pleasure far too much. He would do something much worse to you than death. He would be sure of it.

"Mm? Can't talk?" he frowns when you don't answer. You flinch when a hand comes to clasp over your cheeks and squish, sharp nails prodding into your skin as Sukuna guides your body to face him completely. Instinctively, you grab his marked wrist out of surprise. His second pair of eyes look down at the motion, the first still blazing on you. "You think you can touch me without permission after what you've done?"

"Sukuna," you whisper, staring straight into his eyes as your hand slips away. The lord always enjoyed that about you, how you stared directly into him instead of avoiding. Even now, your eyes are mesmorizing pools of uncertainty and alarm as you look at him. "What did you do?"

"Don't ask me that foolishness," he sneers. "You left behind my back, and you have lost the privilege of addressing me as anything but my proper title."

You falter slightly. "I... I could not stay."

"You do not have the power to make that decision."

"It's my decision to make. It's my life."

"You serve me. My life," Sukuna states firmly and you grimace, brows angling in discomfort as he reminds you of your place, of why you left. "I have clearly given you too much freedom if you believe this nonsense."

You feel your heart jolt with sadness, your face hardening as he holds you still. You should know your place by now, truly, but you don't appreciate how you are still treated as though you are an object of possession when your life has been turned to hell by those who are jealous of your favoritism. It's unfair, to love without the benefits, to be placed on a pedestal with no regard for the ramifications nor how it may feel for your privileges to be bestowed upon you without any promise of anything more.

It pains you to be in this position so hopelessly, and you wished to flee it but Sukuna of course refuses to allow such a thing to happen.

"What if I don't want to be your concubine anymore?" you say in a hushed voice. Sukuna's eyes flicker with subtle surprise, and for a moment you think you have caught him off guard.

"You are dramatic," he elects to say. "You are not telling me something, and you choose to take it out on me."

"If I'm just a concubine, then there's no need for me to tell you everything I think, is there?" you ask bitterly.

Sukuna's brows tilt downward slightly, and slowly he releases his grip of your face. You inhale sharply when he does, stumbling slightly and blinking harshly. "Is that what this is truly about?"

You clench your jaw. "What?"

"Wishing to be more than a concubine instead of not being one at all?" he proposes, and you feel yourself freeze. "And here I was made to believe it was solely because of the others."

"...W-What do you mean?"

"You never said anything about how the other women treated you."

You stare at him blankly as you let his comment sit for a moment, a far off look catching your eye. "There was nothing to tell."

"That is not true."

"There was nothing to tell you- you don't care about what happens with the concubines."

"You are not just another concubine."

You furrow your brows and part your lips. "I don't understand you. You want my forced subservience to you and you continue to entertain the others, but you don't think I'm like the rest of them?"

"If you believe that the way I treat you is how I treat the others, then you are much stupider than I previously believed."

"And if you cared to think of me as more than them, you would have noticed how the special treatment does more harm to me than good!"

"You can not complain because you chose to suffer in silence. All you had to do was tell me, and you still will not explain what has happened."

"Because I don't want to! I don't want to talk about it! It's humiliating, and I-" you suck in a breath of air. "I can't keep reliving being tortured for your carelessness-"

"I disposed of them."

You pause. "You- what? Disposed of what?"

"Of the women who harmed you. I assume that is what has been happening. They were jealous of you and pushed you out and treated you poorly."

You gape at him, utterly stunned. "You- you don't even know who-"

"Others confessed."

"...And you killed them?"

"They drove you away. It was a fit punishment."

You can no longer find the words, for you had not expected Sukuna to do such a thing for you. You believed his behavior around you to be temporary engagement, a fling. You believed that he would hardly care if you truly lived or died as long as you pleased him, and you certainly did not believe that he would go such lengths for your sake.

You are rattled by the mentions of their deaths, yes, but more so shocked by what Sukuna's disposal of them means for you... that he must truly value you above the others.

Sukuna raises a brow. "Are you truly surprised?"

"...Sukuna, all I've been to you is..." you trail off slowly as his gaze hypnotizes you, and you stutter over an exhale. "What am I doing with you? What am I to you? You have concubines still, and I'm not- I'm just-"

"You think too much." The salmon haired demon wraps a hand around your wrist while another finds your waist to tug you along with him. You trip into motion as you trail beside his heavy strides, watching him baffled.

"Wait, my lord, wait-" you urge, and he shockingly does. He eyes you out of the corners of his eyes and slows to a stop. "I truly don't understand. Why would you do that for me? What do you want me to be?"

Sukuna looks down at you wordlessly, taking in every crease of your face. He had been so angry, and now that he has found you, now that he sees you, now that he has you, his mind is at ease. He knows what humans label this feeling, and he is well assured that he is far beyond the useless ideal, but irritatingly he feels it there when he looks at you. He felt it at the thought of anyone treating you poorly, and he felt it the moment he lay eyes on you.

And you look terribly confused standing with his arm wrapped around you and your glossed lips pressed into a soft frown. The fire still burns behind you from a distance, and there is still something unsaid that Sukuna can tell you are hiding, but perhaps he does not want to know. Perhaps he needs to keep that barrier.

Even so, he wants you to remain his. You belong to him, with him as more. He doesn't know as what yet, but just knows that you are more, and that you should never dare to pull a stunt like the one you just did.

You jerk your head back gently when Sukuna turns into you and ducks down, meeting you as eye to eye as he possibly can from his height. His face hovers over yours and you watch him with a twisted, tormented, longing gaze, and you are so pathetic he craves it.

He presses into you without purpose, catching your lips in his and you jump against him, for he has only ever kissed you in intimate spaces and the feeling in such a setting is so foreign but your skin is tingling and your heart is thumping. Sukuna pushes in hard, keeping a set of lidded eyes open as yours slide closed and you allow him to take you within his harsh, swift kiss.

He pulls away fast, a soft smack of parting lips, and hovers over you afterward so closely. You can feel your face burning as your lashes flutter open and you look back up at him with shiny eyes. Sukuna catches the gaze. He catches what it means, and he sighs.

"We are returning now," he orders gruffly, standing up straight. "We will further discuss your arrangements at the estate, but as of today, you are no longer a concubine."

Your mind is still fuzzy from the kiss, therefore you do not completely comprehend his declaration. "I'm... not?"

"You will be under my direct surveillance at all times. Try to sneak away again, and I will be sure you are unable to walk for weeks. And do not think this will go unpunished."

[mariasont]

maria, i have an ideaaa!!

bimbo!assistant!reader goes on a date with a really shitty guy. and she sneaks away to the back door and calls hotch in the alley to come and save her (it’s also raining). she’s all wet and her makeup’s all ruined when hotch comes.

he then takes her back to his place and takes care of her… and… mushy soft fluffiness happens… and maybe feelings are confessed… and maybe a kiss or 2 happens…🥰💖

TALK ABOUT A BAD DATE - A.H

a/n: genius, genius, you are an absolute genius!!!!!!!!!!! this was probably my fav bimbo!reader fic to write <3 thank you sm for requesting

masterlist

pairings: aaron hotchner x bimbo!assistant!reader

warnings: um the rain takes out reader's shirt, so she does kinda flash him for a hot sec, hotch also blatantly checks out her ass, cuties being sickeningly cute, cuties kiss in 4k

wc: 2k

A perfect, flawless, stunning, never-been-done before outfit wasted on a loser of a guy. Your makeup had taken an hour alone, your hair—well, you didn't even want to think about it because you were certain you were starting to break out in hives.

You steadied yourself against the brick wall, the uneven asphalt beneath your heels threatening to take you down as you fished your phone from the depths of your purse.

You dialed the first number you could think of--Hotch's. His was also the only one you had memorized. The battery icon flashed a warning of five percent as you hunched beneath the alleyway's awning, trying to shield yourself from the rain. You desperately hoped he'd pick up.

There was frankly no plan B if he didn't. Go back inside and ask you so-called date for a ride? That was not an option. The moment he pulled up in one of those big trucks, with its deafening music and roaring engine, you regretted not driving yourself. After all, you were well aware what men were compensating for with a big truck.

"Hotchner."

His voice was gruff, the sound slightly distorted by the speaker. You imagined he had just walked through his door, despite the time being eight o'clock on a Friday night. He was presumably preparing to pour his routine glass of scotch.

"Sir, it's me," you said, attempting to ignore the relentless raindrops assaulting your makeup--a battle they seemed intent on winning. Clearly, the concept of setting spray was foreign to them. "Can I ask you for a favor? If you say yes, I pinky promise I'll stop rearranging your desk. I know you have a system, but it just looks so bland sometimes."

"I'm going to overlook that desk comment," he stated, his sigh audible through the phone. You could picture the pensive frown that came with it. "What do you need?"

You drew your lips into a tight line, looking down to watch the rain mock the effort you had put into your outfit.

"Can you come pick me up? Pretty please with sugar on top?"

"Pick you up? From where? Are you okay?"

You shivered slightly, your free hand instinctively rubbing warmth into your arm. You should've brought a jacket. The thought of sharing this evening's failings with your boss did not sound appealing, so you avoided most of his questions.

"I'll text you the location, okay?"

"Okay, yes, I'll be there. Just stay put."

You thanked him and followed that by a double promise to stay put (he didn't believe you the first time). You also told him you'd wait inside, which was less than truthful. The thought of getting drenched was far more attractive than the prospect of bumping in that women-hating boy again.

You didn't have to wait long, thankfully, spotting Hotch's car turn into the alley, the headlights flaring up like spotlights against your face. You used a manicured hand to shield your eyes, narrowing them against the glare. The distinct sound of a door opening and closing signaled his arrival, and soon, Hotch was striding towards you.

"Christ, get in the car," Hotch insisted, more a command than a suggestion.

He was by your side in an instant, his arm on yours as he opened your door and helped you in. Then, unexpectedly, he reached over you to fasten the seatbelt. You giggled, his hand pausing just above your thigh.

"What?"

The rain gently streamed over his perfect skin, his hair now saturated and plastered to his brow, his blue dress shirt bearing the brunt of the downpour.

"You don't trust me to buckle my own seatbelt?"

"I don't trust you with a lot of things." Completely false. "For instance, your choice of men." Completely true.

He clicked the seatbelt into place and swung the door shut, cutting off any chance of a response, then moved around the car to the driver's side.

You can't help but pout, even as your eyes traced the line of his jaw. "How'd you know?"

Any trace of annoyance vanished as quickly as it came as he placed a hand behind you, giving you an even better view of his profile while he reversed the car. Your focus shifted to the ripple of muscles under his shirt.

"I'm trained to know when someone is in distress and you practically spelled it out. The restaurant, the clothes..." His voice tapered off, disguising his pause with a cough while his gaze flickered over your outfit, his cheeks tinged with a fleck of red. "I've got a spare sweatshirt in the back if you need it."

You traced his line of sight to your chest. Emitting a small squeak, you quickly shielded yourself with your arms, realizing that your white top had become completely see through.

"Totally not embarassing," you say, pursing your lips as you unbuckle your seatbelt.

"It's fine," Hotch insists, but you don't miss how his eyes are now careful not to drift from the road. "Put your seatbelt back on."

"I can't reach the sweatshirt."

You shift to face the back, knees planted on your seat as you lean over to grab just the thing you were looking for. In the rearview mirror you catch the brief moment his eyes do stray, discreetly (or so he thought) sweeping over your ass.

A self-satisfied smile crept across you face as you slid back into your seat, slipping on the sweatshirt. It smelled like him—an intoxicating blend of aged leather and pine. You liked it. A lot.

"So do you wanna talk about it?"

You really didn't. With a sigh, you dug through your purse for your lip gloss. Flipping down the passenger mirror, you froze, confronting your reflection.

"Hotch, didn't you think to mention my face is all... smudgy?"

Your mascara (and setting spray) had betrayed you, leaving dark trails down your cheeks and a slightly unhinged look.

"Your face is perfect," Hotch remarks dryly, like he was tired of you, he undoubtedly was. You were a handful after all. "Why are you avoiding my question?"

You let out a delighted gasp.

"Did you just say my face is perfect?" Leaning over the console, you tap his nose with your finger. "You're just the sweetest."

The look Hotch gives you is flat, expectant as if he knows just what you were trying to do.

"Okay, okay, fine, it was just a terrible date. Like, Hotch, I'm talking disaster-level bad. He made fun of my job, ate like a toddler, and his truck? He wouldn't shut up about it." Your hands are now shuffling through the contents of your purse in a panic. "And now, I can't find my keys."

"Your house keys?"

A breath of frustration flows from you, fingers pulling through your hair as you nod. "Dang it."

You felt a slight unraveling in your usual poise, and the panicking that came with it. Hotch's hand landed on your shoulder, his thumb grazing across your collarbone.

"Hey, it's fine. It's late, and you're upset. You can stay at my place tonight, I'll crash on the couch, and we'll find your keys in the morning."

He made everything seem so simple.

"I'm not upset," you insist, lips pursing as you angle your body just enough to feel his touch more fully.

His hands felt right on you.

He chuckled quietly, his thumb tracing a path from your shoulder to brush away the solitary tear beneath your eye that you hadn't noticed before.

"Must be a raindrop," you shrug. Hotch's soft laugh tells you he doesn't quite buy it. "Are you sure you don't mind me staying over?"

"I'm certain."

"Okay."

"So why did your date make fun of your job?"

"Because," you start, your fingertip lazily sketching doodles on the misted car window, "when I was telling him about being an assistant and working for you, he implied that the only reason you hired me was so you had something pretty to look at."

"Well, he's not entirely wrong."

You let out a surprised giggle. "Hotch!"

You reach over the console, pinching his arm which he just laughed off, pulling into what you assumed was his driveway. You had never been to his house. It was nice. Really nice, the kind you'd find in movies—not imposing, but inviting, with its brick walls and stout brown pillars framing the porch.

You were even more surprised when you entered the house. The image you had of Hotch's house one of meticulous order, a place where you could hear the tick of a clock from rooms away. But this... this was a home. There were throw blankets casually draped over the couch, books overflowing, armchairs worn in just the right places.

You lean down, intent on stripping off the torturous heels, but a wobble has you teetering. Hotch is quick to step in.

"Here," he offers, lifting each foot in turn to his knee, skillfully undoing the straps and easing them off you.

Standing flat-footed, you suddenly feel much shorter, and you wonder if Hotch has ever seen you without them.

You look up at him, smiling cheekily. "My very own prince charming."

He ignored you and moved through the living room. "Do you want a pair of sweatpants?"

"Sharing clothes now, are we? I bet there's a clause against this in the employee handbook."

Hotch raises an eyebrow, "I don't think I need to remind you of the numerous times I've overlooked your creative interpretations of the handbook rules."

"So you're admitting to showing me favoritism?"

You plucked the sweatpants from his hands, not giving him an option to respond as you shuttled yourself into his bathroom. You changed quickly, trading your sopping wet clothes for Hotch's dry, warm ones.

You reentered the living room to find Hotch reclining on the couch with an ease that was new to your eyes. He, too, had slipped into something more comfortable—sweats and a form fitting grey long sleeve that threatened to distract you completely.

You dropped your purse onto the coffee table and settled next to him, maybe a little closer than you should have.

He let out a sound that was more a breath than a laugh, a sound that all the same made your heart flutter unexpectedly. "You've still got some, uh, makeup under your eyes."

He reached up to wipe it away with his thumb.

"It won't come off that way," you said, grabbing his wrist with a soft smile. "I have makeup wipes in my purse."

But he didn't hand you your bag like you would've thought, instead he dug through it, pulling out the wipes and starting to dab at your face. The softness of his touch felt disarmingly intimate, so gentle it coaxed your eyes to flutter more slowly, eyelids becoming more heavy.

Your head tilted downward and Hotch used his free hand to tilt it back up. "Stay still, or I'm going to poke your eye out."

"You're making me sleepy," you murmur, your voice a soft, drowsy hum, but then he moved the wipe to your lips and suddenly you were anything but.

He was even more gentle with your lips, if that was possible, wiping away the gloss like you were made of glass.

Your eyes snapped open, and you found yourself gazing into his warm, brown-sugared eyes, your heart thundering in your chest. You could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin. How did you get so close? You weren't sure, but he was there, noses almost touching.

He pulled away the wipe, using his thumb to clean up left over gloss though you were sure there wasn't any. His hand paused there, resting on your lower lip like it was meant to be there. You felt every fiber of your being stand on high alert. You wondered what he was thinking.

Did he want to kiss you as much as you wanted to kiss him?

"Are you going to kiss me?" You asked, half-hopeful, half-daring, giving a microphone to your inner monologue.

He took a moment, eyes flickering from your lips to your eyes then back down again. "Yes."

It was certain. Like there was no doubt about it, but he didn't move.

"Okay, I'm ready," you breathed out, pulse roaring in your ears.

Hotch's laughter was a low and warm sound. You had heard it a lot tonight.

"You kill me," he said, and it wasn't patronizing—it was affectionate and genuine, and it made your whole body turn to mush.

Then his lips were on yours, and you were both laughing, the sound muffled by lips. It was tentative at first but it quickly morphed into something sweet and soft and perfect.

"Aren't you glad my date went terribly?" you mumbled into his soft skin.

"Devastatingly glad."

One thing was clear—Hotch was not going to end up sleeping on the couch tonight.

taglist: @hotchhner @khxna @readergf @sarcasm-and-stiles @edencherries @aurorsworld @princess76179 @malindacath @broadwaytraaaaash @sunfyyre @sleepysongbirdsings @trulycayla @crouchingapple @navia3000 @aaronlovesava @bakugocanstompme @averyhotchner @everythinglizzy @sky2nd

join my taglist here!

[moonstruckme]

Dizzy

summary: when your roommate James comes home after a night out with his friends, he's acting even more affectionate than usual

cw: alcohol

modern au

roommate!James x fem!reader ♡ 2.7k words

You can always hear when James’ friends come over. The door opens and the sound of them comes pouring through into your flat, the boys always in the middle of bickering or joking or telling some incredibly animated story. 

When you hear their noise late on a Friday night, you pause the movie on your laptop and head for the door, drawn towards their loudness. James’ friends are rowdier than anyone you hang out with, but it’s a happy sort of ruckus. They’re fun and hilarious and surprisingly kind, and you enjoy chatting when they come over. 

“Hi, gorgeous,” Sirius sing-songs, spotting you as soon as you emerge from your room. You laugh at his scratchy, worn-out voice. He sounds like he’s probably been singing at the top of his lungs all night. Dark eyeliner has transferred to the skin under his eyes, but Sirius is the only person you know with his particular ability to make dishevelment look rock-and-roll instead of slobbish. 

“Hi,” you say back, grinning at him. Your eyes search behind him to find Remus, just coming through the doorway. As always, he looks completely different from his other half; whereas Sirius has unmistakably just gotten home from a night out, Remus could just as easily have been at the library in his jeans and t-shirt, except for the faint black smudge where Sirius’ eyeliner has seemingly rubbed off on his cheek. Then you catch sight of James, drooping like an overwatered flower with his arm slung around Remus’ shoulder. “Is he okay?”

“Yeah, he’ll be alright,” Remus grunts, heaving your roommate through the entryway. He tries to send you a smile of greeting, but it’s more of a well-meaning grimace. “He just needs to drink some water.” 

“I won,” Sirius says giddily, stumbling over and grabbing your arm. “I outdrank James Potter.” 

There’s a nervous edge to the laugh that bubbles out of your throat. “That’s great, Sirius, congratulations.” You cast an alarmed look towards Remus. “You all had a competition?”

Remus shakes his head. “They had a competition.”

“I won,” James says suddenly, picking his head up as if revived from a deep sleep. “Don’t listen to him, Y/N, I’m the winner.”

Sirius makes a derisive sound. “You can’t even walk, Potter.” 

“I can,” James defends himself, and slips his arm from around Remus’ shoulder. Both you and Remus put your hands out cautiously like when a toddler takes its first steps, but James totters safely to the couch, leaning against it like he’s just finished a marathon and directing a smug smile towards Sirius. “Suck it, Pads.” 

Sirius’ lips curl impishly. His unsteady gaze settles on Remus, still hovering by the door. “Gotta get home to do that.” 

“Alright,” Remus says quickly, stepping forward to take his boyfriend by the shoulders and steering him towards the door. “We’re gonna go home and get to bed—to sleep.” He’s blushing something fierce, and you do your absolute best not to smile. “Prongs.” James looks up from where he’s been toying with the fabric of your couch throw. “Drink some water, and then go to sleep, yeah?” Remus raises his brows, waiting for confirmation, and James presses a solemn hand to his heart. 

“Your wish is my command, Moony-boy.” 

Remus rolls his eyes but turns to go, sending you a quick goodnight with an apology embedded in his voice before he shuts the door behind him. You lock it, and turn back around to find James performing a lazy somersault over the back of the couch and onto the cushions. 

“James,” you laugh, and he smiles up at you like he doesn’t know what’s so funny but is happy to be a part of it anyway, “do you want to come into the kitchen to have some water?”

James turns pensive. “Is that where you’re going?”

“Mhm.” 

“Then sure.” He hops up a bit too fast, and has to put his arms out in front of him to regain his balance. 

You take his forearm in your hand, knowing you won’t be able to support his weight if he really falls but hoping you can at least slow his descent, and begin walking him toward the kitchen. “Are you feeling dizzy?” you ask him.

James hums. “A bit. But in a good way, you know?”

You don’t, but you nod anyway. “Well,” you say with certainty you can’t feel, “that’s good. Chill here for a second, okay?” You prop him up against the counter, and James melts against it instantly in that easy way he has, leaning back on his elbows and crossing his ankles in front of him. The edge of the counter has to be digging into his back, but James makes it look like the most comfortable spot in the flat. 

You start to grab a glass from the cabinet but then think the better of it, opting for a less destructible plastic cup. You fill it with icy water from the tap. 

“Alright.” You pass it to him. “Don’t drink it too fast.” 

James takes the cup with a smile that’s really much sweeter than your tiny gesture warrants. Then he proceeds to slide the rest of the way down the counter, until he’s sitting with his legs spread out in front of him on the floor. After a moment, you decide to join him, crossing your legs under you and letting your back rest beside his. The floor just seems like the place to be right now. 

For the first time since you’ve known him, James seems content to sit in silence, sipping at his water. Neither of you are looking at each other, or really anywhere in particular. It’s definitely a Friday night, more of the noise of voices and traffic making their way up to your flat than you hear on most days of the week, but your home itself is quiet. The light in the kitchen is dim, coming in from the lamp you’ve left on in the living room, and your body relaxes instinctively in the peaceful dark. 

James has nearly emptied the cup when he says, “Hey,” as if he’s just remembered something important.

You look at him. “What?”

“There’s no ice in here.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Did you want ice? I can put some in, I just thought you preferred drinks without ice.” 

Even in the dim light, you can make out enough of James’ eyes to see the brown in them go absolutely molten. He turns toward you more fully, his shoulder and cheek squished up against the cabinets. “Aww, you knew.”

You laugh at him, his smushed cheek pushing his glasses up on his face and his bottom lip jutting out slightly. The effect is that he looks both worryingly drunk and decidedly endearing. “Of course I know,” you say. “We’re roommates. I’m bound to pick up on things.” 

Your words do nothing to curb James’ adoration. “Still, you noticed,” he says, maudlin. “Thanks, sweetheart.” 

Sweetheart. The word resounds in your head like the happy chime of a bell. James is always calling you that, but usually it seems thrown away, a light little endearment he tacks onto his addresses without thinking. This feels different. It lingers on his tongue like caramel, soft and sticky sweet. Sweetheart. 

“Of course,” you say again, and you’re grateful for the poor lighting that’s hiding your blush. “Ready to go to bed?”

James looks at you like you’ve asked him to solve a calculus equation, thick brows knitting together. Maybe it’s the endearment still ringing in your head, but you really want to smooth the crease from between them with your thumb. You don’t. 

“I dunno,” he says after a moment. “Are you tired?”

“A little,” you admit. “Aren’t you?”

He shrugs. “I could be.” And then he’s hauling himself up, an overly complicated process that involves getting his feet underneath him while he’s already using the counter to pull himself off the floor. You have to bite back a smile as you watch, and when he’s done James extends a hand to you. As if you’re the one who needs help. 

You take it but don’t actually put any of your weight on him as you stand, grabbing his empty cup from the counter. James’ hand is big, engulfing yours easily, and the condensation from the cool water still lingers on his palm. He doesn’t let go as you start towards his bedroom. You tell yourself it’d be mean to pull away on your own. 

“Oh!” he exclaims, once again like he’s discovered something fascinating. “I haven’t even asked—how’s your night been?”

You laugh again. You can never seem to stop laughing around James. “It’s been good, thanks. Not as eventful as yours, I take it.” 

James hums in unhappy affirmation. “Lucky you.”

“Well, seems like you got the true night-out experience.” You bring him to sit on his bed, bending to untie his shoes for him and setting them by the door. “Do you wanna sleep in that or change into pajamas?” you ask, fighting the urge to tack on the honey that pushes at your lips. 

There’s no deliberation there. “Pajama pants, at least. I can’t wear jeans in bed, m’not a monster.”

You smile to yourself, locating a pair of pajama pants on the floor and holding them up for him to see. “These okay?”

“Yeah, thanks.” 

You toss them to him. James starts to strip, and you turn around quickly, going into the bathroom. “So, aside from the drinking contest, did you have a good time tonight?”

“Yeah,” he says lightly. You fill the cup with water from James’ sink and find a bottle of ibuprofen in the drawer underneath. “It wasn’t bad. Remus is so busy lately, it’s good to get to see him at all, and beating Sirius is always fun.” He gives a little laugh. “He’s such a sore loser.” 

“He seemed to think he’d won,” you say, your tone teasingly dubious. 

A harrumph. “If Remus doesn’t set him straight on that, I’ll do it tomorrow.”

You chuckle.

“You’ll tell ‘em, won’t you?”

“For sure. Do you have your pants on yet?”

“Oh. Yeah.” You go back into the bedroom to find James comfy under the covers, smiling sheepishly. “I didn’t know you were waiting for me to tell you, sorry.” 

“No worries.” You smile. He looks so sweet like this, curls splayed out around his head on the pillow the way a kid draws rays around the sun. You set the cup and pill bottle on his nightstand, using your proximity to study his face. His pupils are huge and unfocussed, and the smile he’s aiming at you is a bit too dopey for your liking. “You said you were dizzy…do you think you’re going to be sick?”

“No.” James starts to push himself up as if to make his point, then decides against it, resting his head against the edge of the mattress with a tiny grimace. “Maybe.” 

“That’s okay,” you reassure him, grabbing a wastebasket from under his desk. “Here, I’m going to put this by the bed just in case, okay? And you’ve got water and ibuprofen on the nightstand.” 

James doesn’t respond. He’s looking at you dazedly. 

“James.” You tap his cheek lightly. “Do you understand? You need to use the wastebasket if you feel sick.”

His hand emerges from beneath the covers, fingers braceleting your wrist. “Stay with me,” he mumbles. You’re glad he’s definitely too out of it to feel the quick bumping of your pulse beneath his fingers. When you hesitate a second too long, James tightens his grip beseechingly. “Please, sweetheart?” 

There it is again. Your brain buzzes in response. 

“Alright,” you whisper, brushing a soothing touch against the inside of his forearm, and James releases you. “I was watching a movie before you got home. Want to finish it?”

He agrees, and you go across the hall, retrieving your laptop. You climb over him on the bed, pretending not to feel the brush of a big hand across your hip as though meant to steady you. You settle your laptop between the two of you and press play on the movie.

James leans over, resting his head on your shoulder. “You’re always watching this,” he murmurs. “You don’t get tired of it?”

“Not really,” you reply. “It’s my favorite. But if you are, I can change it.”

He makes a humming sound, and you feel the vibrations in your shoulder. “No, s’alright. Bet you can quote half the film, though, can’t you?” 

You grin. “I’m scared,” you say, in time with the actress on your screen. “I don’t wanna get hurt.” You can feel James smiling, his cheek smushing against your shoulder. You lower your voice into a gruff mockery of the male actor’s intonation. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

James makes a soft sound of amusement. “Cute,” he murmurs, more to himself than to you. 

You fall into an easy silence, blue light cast over your features as the familiar scenes play out quietly on your laptop. You keep sneaking glances at James, thinking he’s either about to fall asleep or be sick, but he’s watching the movie contentedly, head a solid but welcome weight on your shoulder. He’s evidently decided to discard the shirt he’d worn to the bar, and the skin of his bare shoulder is warm where it presses against your arm. He adjusts his head a little, and his curls tickle the underside of your jaw. You don’t know how he gets them so soft. Not through any strict regimen or product, apparently. One good thing about having a guy for a roommate is that he’s never the one who runs out the hot water; he’s in and out of the shower in ten minutes every time. And yet, if you look closely enough, you can usually find at least two or three perfect coils in his hair. Genetics, you suppose. James was blessed with a good lot of them. 

The movie’s not half done before you’re yawning, your eyelids feeling like someone’s sewn fishing weights into them. You try not to shift, but your shoulders rise with the involuntary inhale, and James looks up at you. You yawn again, covering your mouth with one hand as a tear forms in the corner of your eye, squished out when you blink. You wipe it away. 

“Wait,” James says. You go still, looking over at him curiously as he adjusts against the headboard of his bed, pushing himself further upright. He tilts his head. The back of his index finger brushes gently under your lashes. “You always get teary at night,” he says softly. 

You know you should get out from under his touch, but you can’t make yourself. “I tear up a lot when I yawn.” 

Just thinking about it has you yawning again, and James takes your face in his hand, catching the tear that falls from one eye. 

“Don’t cry,” he begs you. “If you cry, I’ll cry.” 

You take his wrist in your hand, giving him a small smile. “I’m not crying, James. I’m just tired.” 

“Okay,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss, feather-light, just next to your eye. You freeze, but he doesn’t seem to notice. “Okay, m’sorry. You’re tired? Wanna go to sleep?”

You have to clear your throat to make sure your voice comes out right. “Sure.” It’s still a bit hoarse. “Wake me if you need anything, okay?”

James takes your hand, a willing captive between two of his as he draws it into his lap. He settles his head back onto your shoulder. “Okay. You’re too nice to me.” 

“I’m not,” you say, before you can think the better of it. “You’re the nice one.” 

James only hums.

You swallow. “Goodnight.” 

You’re waiting for a response, the movie on your laptop just now getting to the scene where the love interests give in and confess their feelings for each other, when you feel a wet spot forming near the collar of your shirt. Slowly, careful not to jostle him, you tilt your head to look down at the source of the drool puddle. 

James already asleep.

[songsofadelaide]

Satoru loves having you around whenever he visits Megumi and Tsumiki in their apartment. The kids adore you more than they let on, after all. He loves the fact that they quickly warmed up to you, especially Megumi, who's known to be such a prickly child.

But what Satoru loves the most is having you all to himself without the school's watchful eyes on you both. He admits that he gets a little handsy when it's just the two of you on a mission together, not that you ever really minded since you loved him so much.

You were fixing Megumi's bedroom when Satoru slinked over and winked at you. He raised a finger to his lips, beckoning you to maintain your silence as he coiled his arms around you and drew you into a warm kiss.

And you nearly lost yourself in that kiss, too, your own arms wrapping around his neck—

"Gojo-san, I need your help."

If there was a world record for dismantling a kiss, you'd probably set the record. You couldn't help but look down at your lap in embarrassment while Satoru rose from his seat across you to approach Megumi, whose hand was still on his door.

"What do you need help with?"

"Why is your face all red?" Came the question from the young boy. You couldn't see his face but you knew from the sound of his voice that he must have a little grimace on. "Please don't do any perverted stuff in my room."

"Okay, that's enough, wise guy. Why don't we..." Satoru stated as he closed the door behind him, the click of the doorknob resonating in the room. In your hands was one of Megumi's half-folded shirts and oh, my gosh, what was I thinking? Was I really about to make out with Satoru here? In Megumi's bedroom?!

When you visited the following week, Megumi was helping you fold his clothes in his room this time, a rather pensive expression on his face as he asked you, "Do you two always do that?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Kissing."

That wasn't exactly the most surprising question. Megumi has always been a precocious child who knew far too much for his young age. "O-Oh, well... Not really always. Satoru was just being silly, for the most part."

The blue-eyed boy cocked his head as he turned to you. "And you don't do it with other people?"

"No, I don't. I can only kiss Satoru because he's my most favourite person in the world," you replied to his question with a little shake of your head and a small smile on your face. "I'm sure you'll find that person, too, Megumi-kun. The one you'll want to kiss forever. Perhaps not now, but sometime in the future."

The two of you looked up in surprise when you heard the bedroom door creak open but no one was there.

Satoru had a strange spring in his step on your way back to campus. He held your hand, his grip both tight and tender, and you curled your fingers around his digits to hold him right back.

An excited grin made its way to your lips as you spotted the familiar glint of light from a convenience store. "Oh, Toru, while we're here, do you think I can grab some snacks to share with Shoko, Kento and Kiy—"

As you turned your face in his direction, you were met with his lips suddenly on yours and very little resistance to your favour.

"T-Toru!—"

Satoru stole the grin from your face, his eyes concealed under his sunglasses but you knew exactly how they vanished into his smile. "Grab whatever you want, it's on me. Anything for my most favourite person in the world."

[ickadori]

hi i’m going feral over the dynamic w uraume, reader, and sukuna. uraume hating reader but they can’t lie and say the way she looks at now BOTH sukuna and uraume as if he were the night sky but they were thd stars in it… still, they say they don’t like her at all! annoying as she is.

even if she’s left alone with them while sukuna is out. and especially if she’s needy and wow sukuna isn’t here to fix it. ugh, uraume HATES her. totally for sure, no lie at all.

sorry it’s just such an AWOOOOBARKBARKHOOWWWLL dynamic </3

[cws] fem reader. brief mention of sukuna treating his workers poorly lmao. poly. this mainly focuses on uraume/reader.

Uraume hates you, sparingly.

There are days where they grow so annoyed by you that they fear they may have to bind their hands to keep from squeezing at your throat. But there are also days where they find their interest mildly piqued by you, and can therefore tolerate you more than usual — today is one of those days.

They stand quite a distance away as they watch you cling onto Sukuna, your face twisted into one of despair as you beg him not to make you leave (ever the drama queen). He pays you no mind, one arm keeping you from falling over yourself while the other three pack your clothes away into a trunk.

“Ryo, I don’t want to go!” Ryo. Tuh. The first time you had uttered that shortening of his name, Uraume had prepared themself to finally see you be disciplined. It was terrible enough that you referred to him as just Sukuna, but to forego that as well and address him by such a casual title?

They had been sure that you’d be sporting a bruised face for a few days, or perhaps cradling a broken limb if the master was feeling particularly slighted, but instead, Lord Sukuna had only regarded you with low, hooded eyes and a ghost of a smile.

“Your wants are of no concern to me.” Sukuna says, and Uraume vividly remembers him asking them just the other day if you ‘wanted’ for anything.

Uraume was woken by a dark presence weighing heavy on their chest, and their eyes quickly open to see Sukuna looming over them, his own eyes narrowed into slits.

“Yes, my Lord?” There’s a slight waver in their voice.

“That woman…does she want for anything?” Uraume glances to the large, open window in their room, the sun still hidden away, and then slowly turns back to the curse.

“I don’t think I understand.”

“The date of her birth is approaching.” Uraume has enough sense not to gape. The King of Curses planning on getting a birthday gift for a human of all things — how absurd! “She claims not to want anything, but you know how women are.”

Uraume blinks at the pensive look that suddenly takes over his face, one hand raising to rub at his chin. After a beat of silence, Sukuna focuses his gaze back on Uraume.

“If you have no use for your tongue, then I’ll gladly take it.”

“Forgive me, Lord Sukuna, I was just recalling what she had mentioned in passing the other day.” He silently urges them to continue. “She frequently reminisces about the fountain in her village and how she wishes she could visit it again - I assume it holds some sort of sentimental value in it.”

Both parties are well aware that the fountain has long since been destroyed; the stone holding it together having been smashed the night Sukuna single-handedly pillaged the small village, and the water, once so crystal clear your face could be reflected in it, had been stained a deep, dark red with the blood of your friends and family.

“Shit.” Sukuna seems a touch distressed, and Uraume balks. It earns them a stinging on their chest, their sleep clothes staining red before their skin quickly heals itself. “Fix your face.”

“Forgive me, Lord Sukuna.”

He ponders for a moment. “I’ll have a fountain erected in the courtyard. I’ll send her away while it’s being built - you’ll accompany her.”

Shit.

Construction was set to start today, hence why you were being driven out of the palace, and Uraume had been tasked with taking you away to a neighboring village until the fountain was completed.

Before, Uraume would have been ashamed of themself for seemingly falling so low in Sukuna’s graces that they had been demoted to a mere pet sitter, but the Lord saw you as so much more. He trusted no one with you, and had killed plenty a servants for so much as letting their gaze linger on you a bit too long, but here he was trusting you, arguably his most prized possession, in their care.

It spoke volumes of how much trust Sukuna put into them, hence Uraume’s agreeable mood.

“You’re sending me off to my death, aren’t you?” You blanche, eyes darting between the two people in your room, and Uraume gives nothing away as they watch you with a neutral expression. “They’re going to cook me, aren’t they?” You let out a harrowing moan, even going so far as to drop your head into your hands, and Sukuna regards you with a painfully patient look.

“You would have done well in the story telling business - you’re highly dramatic.” You go limp, one of Sukuna’s arms quickly snatching you up, and another one comes down to snag ahold of your chin and turn your face up to him, large fingers squishing your cheeks together. “Enough with the theatrics, woman. You’re not being killed just yet.”

“Just yet?”

“The two of you are going on a trip. It’ll be no longer than two weeks.”

“A trip to where? The afterli—!” Sukuna spins you out of his arms, and Uraume acts quickly, their own arms shooting out to steady you. “Ryomen!”

“You may leave, Uraume.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

~

Uraume had been attempting to pacify you ever since the two of you had finally reached your designation: an inn a bit of ways into the countryside.

You had annoyingly cried a good ways of the journey over, only stopping when you had fallen asleep on Uraume’s shoulder, and when you had awoken, you had stayed quiet as you sulked to yourself.

Dramatic.

The two of you were now in the bath, Uraume’s hand gently moving the soapy cloth up and down the expanse of your back. You were still quiet, something completely uncharacteristic of your usual self. Even when Sukuna left the palace for weeks at a time you didn’t act like this. Perhaps you really did believe that he sent you away to be killed…

A part of them wanted to pick at you for their own amusement, but another part of them was slightly…worried. A very minuscule part. A displeased you would inevitably lead to a displeased Sukuna, and Uraume simply refused to let that happen.

“Lord Sukuna’s business will likely be finished before two weeks.” Knowing his master, the man would ensure the workers hands didn’t stop moving until their fingers were worked to the bone - the project would surely take no longer than a week, at the latest.

You give no indication to having heard them, and Uraume rinses the soap from your skin, silently acknowledging just how soft and supple the flesh is. “Have you decided what you’ll have for dinner?”

“You mean my last meal?” You quip, and Uraume grasps the wooden bucket filled with water at their feet. “You have some nerve, Uraume. Bathing me and plumping me up before you drive the knife in. Just know that—ah!” You splutter as a wave of water comes crashing down against your head, and they reach around you to dab at your eyes with a dry cloth.

“I think a hearty soup would do you well. I noticed that your voice sounds a bit scratchier than usual. I suspect you’ll come down with a cold in a few days.” Uraume turns you so you’re facing them, and they pause when they notice the tears gathering in your eyes.

“Did he grow bored of me?” Your voice cracks, and Uraume tilts their head. Humans and their needless worries.

“You are a very silly girl.” You sniff. “We both know very well what has become of the people that bored Lord Sukuna.” Their hands move on instinct, thumbs flicking away the tears that slipped free. “Do you really believe that I would be treating you so kindly if my master had signed off on your death?”

“You dumped water on my head.”

“Lukewarm water. It could have been boiling.”

You laugh, a soft, breathy sound, and Uraume isn’t pleased to admit that they can see the appeal that Sukuna sees in you.

“Let’s quickly finish so you can eat.”

~

“Is it any better?” Uraume questions, careful of their strength as they push their fingers into the plush flesh of your waist. You had found yourself tossing and turning in bed, unable to sleep, and once questioned, you had complained about a stiffness in your shoulders and lower back, prompting them to undo your robe and attempt to work the kinks out…kinks that they had yet to find.

“Mm-nn,” you sigh, cheek resting on the pillow as your lashes flutter, and they add a bit more pressure, oiled hands sliding up the sides of your waist, fingers brushing against the sides of your breasts, before they’re pushing down between your shoulder blades. “It’s…it’s lower now.”

“Lower?” They let their hands slip further down, thumbs pushing into your lower back and moving in wide, slow circles. They can feel you wiggling underneath them from where they straddle your bare behind, and Uraume focuses their ministrations in that area. “I suppose you are a bit tense - is this better?”

“L-Lower.”

Their brows furrow as they shuffle back so they’re sat atop the backs of your thighs, only for understanding to settle on their features at the slick sheen between your inner thighs. Uraume hums, a single finger moving to trace down your slit. You gasp, butt jutting out, and they tsk with a shake of their head.

“What a roundabout way to say you want me to pleasure you.” You hide your face into the blankets, and they allow their finger to push past wet, puffy lips to get to your clit. “Lord Sukuna instructed me to give you everything that you desired, and if sex is what you desire from me, then you will have it. There’s no need to beat around the bush.”

After Sukuna had first demanded that Uraume ‘teach you how to take him’, he had also given them the task of satisfying you whenever he was not around. You had only come to them twice so far - once at the end of your monthly cycle, a time where you could frequently be found moaning in Sukuna’s lap and pawing at his chest, and twice when Sukuna had ‘punished’ you by refusing to mate with you, forcing you to come to Uraume as a last, desperate resort.

You don’t answer them with words but moans, short breathless sounds that leave you with every swipe of their finger against your clit. Their free hand moves to a plump cheek, and they spread you open, eyes taking in the way your drooling hole clenches around nothing and oozes slick.

Their finger moves from your clit to your hole, and they add in another finger before slowly pushing in, silently marveling at the way your walls greedily suck them in, a low squelch sounding as your arousal bubbles up around the digits.

“Uraume,” you gasp, voice heavy with desire, and there’s a stirring in their groin that they pointedly ignore. They pull their fingers back until they slip out of you and spread them apart, your slick webbing between the two digits, and then they’re plunging them right back in. “Uraume!”

“Does this please you?” Their voice is breathier, heavier, and your ass ripples with the force from their hand hitting against you. “Or would you prefer something else? Perhaps my mouth?”

You moan out something indiscernible, but Uraume decides to take it as an enthusiastic yes, a decision that they refuse to dwell on as they push your thighs apart and lay on their stomach in between them, thumbs keeping your lips spread as they lick a long stripe up your cunt.

You gasp and twitch, and they let you move as you see fit, simply adjusting their position to keep up with you. Their tongue flattens over your bud, nose nuzzled against your clenching hole, and the scent of you nearly overwhelms them.

They venture up a tad, tongue now thrusting into you, and the heat of your pussy is enough to make beads of sweat trickle down their nose to mix in with your essence. They push in deep, tongue rubbing against your walls and curling up before withdrawing, pools of your slick collected and messily gulped down.

Uraume now understands why they so frequently catch Sukuna with his head buried between your thighs, hands keeping you pinned as he feasts on your cunt. Their master has never once eaten a meal they’ve cooked for him with such hunger and passion, and Uraume hates to admit that nothing they make could ever amount to the taste of you.

Their hands move to lock around your hips, your movements preventing them from mouthing at you the way they desperately need to, and they pay no heed to the way you sob into the sheets, pussy tightening around their tongue as you come with a breathless shriek of their name.

You relax in their hold, and they let their tongue slip from inside you, the muscle once again parting your folds to give slow, gentle licks to your twitching clit. You weakly call their name, and they pull away from you with a wet, messy kiss to the sensitive bud, hands going back to massaging into your skin as they struggle to calm their racing pulse.

Your soft snores filter into their ears a few moments later, and they observe you as they’re smacked with a new revelation.

Uraume doesn’t hate you, not one bit.

[heich0e]

shouto has not stopped talking about his new nephew for an hour and fifty seven minutes.

you can't blame him, really, for not being able to stop rambling since he got home—you saw the photos he snapped on his phone, the sweet little boy is borderline cherubic. and it's his first nephew, after all, with touya being the first of the todoroki siblings to have any children. there's added novelty to this new arrival. the fact that the baby is so cute is just a serendipitous bonus.

"...and then he fell asleep right in my arms." shouto rinses his toothbrush under the stream of water flowing from the tap in your shared bathroom. half the story he'd just told had been lost to the froth of toothpaste in his mouth, talking around the toothbrush as he cleaned his teeth before bed, but he'd already told you this part of the story three times—so thankfully you didn't miss anything.

you smile as shouto wipes at the corner of his mouth with a towel hanging from the rail on one side of the bathroom, watching his reflection in the mirror. his eyes flicker up to meet yours in the surface of the glass, and he sees the mirthful twist at the corner of your mouth.

he turns to you in the narrow bathroom just off your bedroom and approaches you slowly, his arms winding around your waist as he tucks his face into the crook of your neck. he's in his pajamas now, ready for bed, and without lifting his head or stepping away from you, he begins shuffling the two of you out the door towards your waiting bed in the next room. you can't help but giggle as you go, reaching up and wrapping your arms around his neck for balance, allowing him to guide you wherever he sees fit.

shouto leans you back gently once the back of your knees hit the edge of your mattress, crawling overtop of you to get to his side of the bed and then pulling you into his chest once more as he tugs the blankets up around you both.

"sounds like you had a lot of fun today," you remark quietly as you settle into bed, your fingers tracing idle patterns into the flat plane of shouto's sternum.

"i didn't expect him to be so small," shouto replies. "or to smell so good."

you want to laugh at his sincere tone of surprise, but hold it back.

"i hope i get to meet him soon, too," you say.

"touya says you're welcome any time," shouto insists. "he said i'm only welcome some of the time, though."

that really does make you laugh, because you can practically hear the eldest todoroki son's voice saying the words.

it's quiet for a while as you and shouto lay in bed, tangled up together.

"he's gonna make me the godfather," shouto finally says after a while—so softly you almost miss it. the remark, and the tenderness in his voice, makes something in your chest squeeze tight.

"that's so nice, sho," you answer.

"that means if anything ever happens to touya, we get the baby."

'we' he says—not i—like he doesn't for a second picture any future (even one where his beloved older brother has met some untimely demise) without you in it.

"don't wish anything ill on him just because you want to steal his cute baby," you tease him, lifting your head up and resting your chin against his chest so you can watch his face. he looks pensive, like he's really mulling over your words, and it makes you want to laugh again.

"but it would be nice, i think," shouto finally speaks again after his careful contemplation. "having the baby here with us."

heat floods up fast to your cheeks, and you glance away unconsciously. you're sure shouto has no idea what he's just said—still a little giddy from how smitten he is with his new nephew. but it still makes your mind go to places it shouldn't.

"no baby stealing," you reiterate firmly. flopping down again to go to sleep—if for no other reason than you suddenly find it hard to meet his gaze.

shouto sighs a little, but the sound is resigned like he's reluctantly agreeing to your terms. he eases you over onto your side so he can curl up behind you underneath the cover of your quilt, his strong arm looping over your waist.

the heat of shouto's breath hits the shell of your ear as his face rests on the pillow behind you, and you can still smell the spearmint from his toothpaste. his warmth seeps into you as he presses into your back. you close your eyes and luxuriate in the familiarity of it.

"we could have our own, you know," shouto's voice is much nearer to you than you expect it to be when he speaks again, his lips brushing against the back of your ear softly as they shape his words. his hand slips up underneath the t-shirt you wore to bed—the tips of his fingers feel scorching as they ghost across your skin. "and i bet our baby would be even cuter than touya's—no stealing required."

[jeneveuxrein]

better (ITZY Ryujin)

word count: 13.6K

(much overdue, and the pacing pissed me off that i gave up with editing. regardless, enjoy)

-- -- -- 

Shin Ryujin was seventeen when you met. 

You were at the tattoo shop, drawing in your sketchbook since you recently started as an apprentice, when she walked in. You didn’t know who she was at first because she looked young to be there, innocent, shielded from the sad reality of life. The thought of a teenager rebelling against their parents’ wishes was at the top of your list. Why would a girl like that be in a place like this? She was cute—pretty even, that you were sure that if she was closer to your age, you’d approach her. 

She appeared to be looking for someone anyways. 

That someone was her brother, the owner of this establishment, and your mentor. Ryuseong greeted her, patting her head, as she pushed him off. She pouted, rolling her eyes, which made him laugh. 

You brought your attention back to the paper, shading lightly this design you had been working on. Ryuseong praised you for your designs, appreciating your line work, which was the reason he took you in. He thought you had potential, something you took seriously. He hadn’t let you practice on people yet, but you were getting there. He had a couple clients willing, so it was only a matter of time. 

You heard your name being called, breaking your concentration that your hand slips, an unintended line messing up the sketch. You sighed to see Ryuseong waving you over. It wasn’t like you could say no. Reluctantly, you stood up, making your way over and putting on your customer service face. 

Ryuseong introduced you to his little sister, who didn’t give you much except for a bored look and a half-assed handshake. She barely even bowed, so you met her in the same regard. 

“This is my new apprentice,” Ryuseong pulled you in, wrapping a loose arm around your neck. “He’s pretty good. He’ll be tattooing people in no time.” 

“That’s cool,” Ryujin said in a tone that matched her expression. 

It took a lot for you not to roll your eyes, especially in front of your boss. You didn’t, thankfully, awkwardly smiling as he asked her if she wanted to get dinner. He even invited you, which you couldn’t say no to this either. 

Ryujin walked away, leaving you alone with your boss. He chuckles to himself, prompting you to raise an eyebrow. 

“She likes you,” Ryuseong grinned before his face suddenly turned serious. “Just in case, you break her heart, I’ll break your face.” 

You deadpanned, scoffing even. As if you would date Ryujin. There was at least a five-year age gap and she wasn’t like the usual women you dated. Odds were slim to begin with. 

“Come on, hyung,” You shook your head, the thought slightly annoying you. “She’s your sister. I would not date my boss’s sister.” 

A pensive look crossed his face, shrugging, “We’ll see about that.” 

There wasn’t anything to see. 

(At least if there was something to see, you would have seen it. It would have been obvious. 

(It wasn’t.))

-- -- 

The shriek from behind you would have startled you, unintentionally making the wrong movement, earlier in your career. It jolted your client though, causing you to swiftly withdraw the needle before it touched their skin. 

“Yuna-yah,” A familiar voice floated through your ears, followed by a slap. The woman in question whined, and you were certain she was pouting. “Oppa’s working. Be quiet. He needs to concentrate.” 

“It’s fine, Ryujin,” You smiled at your client who lifted his head up to see what the commotion was. You apologized, chuckling as you explained that the woman who yelled wasn’t used to the buzzing of the needle. “And yet she still wants a tattoo,” You joked, even though you thought it was ironic. 

It seemed to put him at ease as the women behind you fell into a hushed conversation. You overheard something about where to eat, and a third voice you also know, asked if they should invite you. 

“Oppa,” You looked at Ryujin once you were done with a minor detail. “How much longer do you have? Unnie wants you to go to dinner with us.” 

Yeji huffed, hitting Ryujin whose nose scrunched. She whined, shoving her face into Yuna’s back. The other girls laughed, shaking their heads at the very well-known crush that Yeji had on you. 

You smirked, Yeji burying her face in more, “I have a little under an hour. I’ll pay if you don’t mind waiting.”

The girls nodded, smiling brightly, that you winked at Yeji. You saw her cheeks blush from across the room, hiding her face behind Yuna. You noticed Ryujin sigh, rolling her eyes at the exchange. 

You found it adorable whenever Ryujin acted like this. You didn’t think you did anything to feed into Yeji’s crush. You were how you always were, but according to Ryujin, you gave her friend the idea that you were into her too.

You weren’t, by any means. You had your interests in someone else. Someone Ryujin knew well, very well, because that someone was her. 

It wasn’t something you expected. 

You should’ve taken it seriously when Ryuseong made that comment all those years ago. 

Ryujin spent a fair amount of time at the tattoo studio. She would often come by after school, and sometimes even on the weekends to help out. You saw her more often than your own girlfriend at the time. There were days she acknowledged your presence with a mumbled hi while other days you barely even got a glance. You didn’t take it personally because she was your boss’s sister. There weren’t any expectations for you to be friends with her. The only expectation you held yourself to was to be polite and respectful. 

It happened slowly, but she started hanging around your table, approaching you with simple questions. She wouldn’t linger, asking before walking back across the room. She sometimes rolled the chair over, curious about whatever sketch you were working on. She didn’t know if she wanted a tattoo herself because she wouldn’t know what kind to get. 

Ryujin asked, one day, about the tattoos on your arm, and after that day, she always sat by you. She kept you within arm’s reach, never invading your space. You didn’t comment on it, conversing with her based on her moods. There was a nice banter and there was a comfortable quiet. You never forced a conversation with her, it always came naturally. She picked up on your moods too, knowing when to keep talking and when to exist.

“Whatever, we’ll be over there,” She gestured to the poker table. “Get us when you’re done.” 

You nodded, dipping the tattoo pen into the ink. She didn’t seem irritated, but you would find out later. 

Unknown to her, Yeji knew something was going on between you. To what extent? You couldn’t say, but she had an idea. She asked you out once before, but it was around the time the lines with Ryujin blurred. You enjoyed watching Ryujin squirm. Maybe it was an ego boost, but you had always been loyal to your partners. 

Yeji still found you attractive, so it was hard not to blush when her friends teased her. It also didn’t help you’d feed into it just to get a reaction out of Ryujin. 

That was always fun.

-- -- 

You stayed late one night, finishing up a design for a client that was going to take about eight hours to complete. You had already met him earlier that day to scale everything on his body along with making any final touches. Ryuseong trusted you enough to close the shop up, so it wasn’t an issue to have the place to yourself while everyone already left. 

You heard footsteps over the music playing and saw Ryujin walking towards you. 

“Leave something?” You asked absentmindedly, shading a section. 

“Forgot my laptop,” Ryujin answered when she got closer. She grabbed the device that you moved to the corner of your desk. You noticed she left it earlier, intending to drop it off at her place on your way home. “What’re you working on?” She pulled up a seat, wheels rolling before stopping once you kicked your foot out. 

“Finishing touches,” Ryujin leaned into your periphery as you kept drawing lines. “Busy with finals?” 

“Don’t remind me,” She groaned, running her fingers through her hair. “I also have this project with Chaeryoung that we need to finish tonight. I’m heading over there now.” 

You hummed in acknowledgment, figuring she got what she needed and would be on her way. She didn’t. She was still next to you. 

“I think I want a tattoo,” Ryujin said suddenly, causing you to look up from your iPad. 

Ryujin and her friends had talked about getting tattoos. They were open to it, but half of them hated needles. The other half didn’t know what they wanted—that was fair, the first tattoo is always the hardest to decide. 

“Is Ryuseong going to be alright with that?” You asked, tapping the screen to save your work. You’d finish later. 

She rolled her eyes, “A bit hypocritical of him if he says no. He has so many.” 

“Tattoos are a bit taboo for women, especially here,” You shrugged, leaning back in your chair. “Gangs and all that.”

“And you’re being sexist,” She slapped your chest lightly. 

“I’m only joking,” You rubbed the spot she hit, as she stuck her tongue out. “Do you know what you’d want? Or where?” 

Ryujin leaned forward, her perfume invaded your senses. You glanced at her lips, shaking the thought of what’d they feel like against yours. “I think,” She paused, crossing one leg over the other, “Maybe somewhere on my rib cage?” 

“Of what?” You cleared your throat, realizing how close she was to you.

“Something small, something cute,” Ryujin smiled softly. “Any ideas?” 

You hadn’t thought about it, but a few come to mind. 

“Where exactly?” You asked, not thinking she’d lift up her sweater along with partially lifting up the sports bra she was wearing. You had never seen so much of her skin. “Uh?”

“Maybe here?” Ryujin traced her finger over a spot. “Now that I think about it, maybe a broken heart?” 

“Someone broke your heart?” You were ready to fight whoever it was. You had grown protective of her over the years. 

Ryujin shook her head, chuckling as she dropped her clothes, “And if someone did? What’re you going to do?” 

You didn’t want to say because she knew of your temper, especially when it came to someone you cared about. 

“I’ll fight them,” You said confidently, crossing your arms. “I don’t care.” 

Ryujin rolled her eyes, muttering something you didn’t quite catch. She rested her head on your shoulder, sighing. It wasn’t out of the ordinary to be like this with her. It brought you a sense of closeness, knowing she felt safe with you. 

At least, that was what you told yourself. 

“Can you give me a ride to Chae’s? I took the train here,” Ryujin asked after a moment. “I saw your car out front.” 

You were going to regardless. Her brother would have you dead if anything happened to his sister and you were the last one with her. You shrugged, and she knew what your answer was. 

As you walked out, Ryujin told you about her day. She and Lia had been holed up in the library, studying with an array of snacks. She was looking forward to the girls’ trip they planned to Jeju Island where the only plan was to relax. 

You opened the car door for her, rolling your eyes at her comment of how you were such a gentleman. It wasn’t like you hadn’t done this before for her, or for any woman in your life, but coming from her seemed to mean more. 

Ryujin plugged in her phone, scrolling for what song to play as you put the car in drive. She chose something slow and mellow, you had never heard it before, but it sounded nice. 

A comfortable silence blanketed the car ride. The only noise coming from the speakers as Ryujin kept adding songs to the queue. You mindlessly drove to Chaeryoung’s, eyes focused on the road until the song cut in the middle of the chorus. You checked the screen for an incoming call from Rosie. 

“Rosie?” You didn’t miss the slight tilt in Ryujin’s voice, questioning, borderline accusatory. “Answer it. I’ll be quiet.” 

You gave her a pointed look, and her head turned out to the window. You didn’t want to, but reluctantly pressed the button. 

“Oppa,” Rosie’s voice filled the car. The pitch was low, seductive, the kind of voice that spelled trouble in the best kind of way. “What’re you up to?”

“I’m in the car,” You said, hoping she doesn’t say anything too explicit. 

Ryujin shook her head, likely accompanied with an eye roll you couldn’t see. You felt the annoyance roll off her body. 

“I miss you,” Rosie said slowly, the obvious reason why she called. “I could use your help with this problem I know you could fix. Do you want to come over?”

“Oh?” Was all you could say. You glanced at the woman next to you, catching the tail end of an eye roll. “Um,” You paused, unsure of how to answer. It was awkward because you had someone in the car with you, but what made it a hundred times more awkward was it was Ryujin. She elbowed you, nodding to respond. “How about I let you know in about ten minutes?” 

“You’re going to make me wait?” Rosie lightly teased. “Fine. I’m, like, really horny,” Naturally forward in situations like this, “So I’ll be touching my—”

“Got it, Chaeng,” You rushed out before she could finish her sentence. “I’ll call you. Bye.” You ended the call, sending a sheepish smile to Ryujin as she rolled her eyes.

You should explain, though you couldn’t reason why. It almost felt like you were caught doing something you shouldn’t be, guilt weighing on your shoulders when it was normal to have a noncommittal relationship with a woman who saw sex the same way—just that. 

You had met Rosie, or Chaeyoung depending on the day, a few months back while you were out with one of your colleagues. Lisa introduced you since Rosie came with Jennie—the love of Lisa’s life—and simply got to talking. She had a high-stress job that gave her no room for a relationship, and she had no inclination to be in one. Your life was the complete opposite, but you also shared the sentiment on dating. 

Things had progressed after a couple drinks. A few intentional touches on your hand. Her body somehow closer than it started. At one point, her hand rested on your thigh as Lisa told a story. 

You ended the night sleeping together. It was the right amount of casualness that, the morning after, led to Rosie proposing it as a regular thing with the no strings attached clause. You saw nothing wrong with it as it was a means to a biological end. 

Yet you still couldn’t shake off the feeling that you did something wrong as Ryujin remained silent the rest of the drive. She didn’t bother to touch her phone to change the song or check any messages. She was just there, blankly staring outside the window as the street lights flickered across her face.

You approached Chaeryoung’s building, pulling up to the curb as you put the car in park. You unbuckled your seatbelt, but Ryujin was faster, opening the door before you could make your way around. 

“Hey,” You called after her as soon as you got out of the car. She was already a couple meters away when she stopped to turn around. “I’m sorry.” You had nothing to apologize for, but you felt the need to. 

Ryujin’s shoulder dropped, and her expression softened. She waited until you met her on the sidewalk before she spoke, “For what?” She kept her voice steady, emotionless even. 

“Just,” You awkwardly gestured to your car, “For that phone call. You shouldn’t have heard any of it.” 

There was a trace of emotion you couldn’t discern, but it vanished before you could. She shrugs, lazily tilting her head slightly backward, “It’s whatever. I told you to answer it anyways.” 

You apologized again, and Ryujin brushed it off. There was still that inkling of doubt, but you didn’t say anymore. You were walking a thin line of what she said versus what she actually meant. You took it at face value. 

You perched yourself on the small brick wall, stretching your legs out as you waited for Chaeryoung to open the door. Ryujin mentioned something about the connection being down so the building occupants weren’t able to open the door remotely.

“Just go. You don’t have to wait,” Ryujin reached for your hands, attempting to pull you up. When you didn’t budge, her arms slacken, but her hands still held yours. She stepped in closer, nearly standing in between your legs. “You have to make a phone call.” 

“Do you want me to?” You asked bluntly. Tired of the internal struggle your mind was in, you had to know. Her eyes widened, surprised, which told you that you were right, something was wrong.

You couldn’t explain what was happening, but whatever shred of decency you had was slipping. Whatever line you drew for yourself when it came to Ryujin was crossed, blurred, erased, as she kept her eyes on you. 

“Well,” Ryujin dropped your hands, crossing her arms over her chest, “If I said no?”

“Then I send her a text and I go home,” You answered honestly. You’d like to think you were a decent guy, doing your best to keep your word. 

“And if I said yes?” She moved enough for her hands to rest on your shoulders. 

“Then I see where the night takes me.” Even though Rosie's tone in the car made it very clear what your night would entail. Ryujin leaned forward, and your arms snaked around her waist to pull her into you, looking up at her. “So which is it?”

She had never been this close, in your space. The urge to kiss her had never felt so strong, that very same urge you pushed so far down because it was Ryujin. Chaeryoung needed to get down here now before you took the woman in your arms back to yours—final project be damned. 

“No,” Pause, “Don’t call her.”

You nodded easily because her eyes promised that it wasn’t going to be with Rosie anymore. It was going to be with her.

“When I get back,” Head leaning forward as she brushed her lips against yours, a sneak peek of what was to come, the contact firing all the nerves in your body. “Wait for me, yeah?” 

You were rendered speechless off a barely kiss that by the time your brain started functioning, the door swung open. Ryujin was out of your arms, composed as if whatever the fuck just happened, didn’t. 

Chaeryoung stepped outside, a curious look as her eyes darted between you. “Am I interrupting something?” 

“Nope,” Ryujin said easily, popping the p as she walked up the steps, leaving you alone. She met her friend at the top. “Thanks for the ride, oppa. I’ll see you soon.”

With that, Ryujin pulled her friend into the building, receiving a curt bye and wave from Chaeryoung as the door shut. 

You had to keep your word, but you weren’t sure if she would. 

You’d find out soon enough.

-- 

Ryujin showed up at your apartment a few days later—six to be exact, but it wasn’t like you were keeping track. There was a knock, a barely heard sound that you had to mute your television to be sure. 

You were surprised to see her, welcoming her in as you opened the door wide open. 

You had minimal contact since you dropped her off at Chaeryoung’s, with small updates on finishing the semester and how the Jeju trip was going. It was more than what you usually send each other, things that didn’t warrant a response. You were inclined to fool yourself into thinking it was her way of making sure you didn’t forget about her. 

(You didn’t. 

You couldn’t. 

Ryujin was all you thought about if you weren’t working.)

You grabbed her luggage from her, putting it to the side. She explained that Yeji dropped her off once they returned. To your surprise again, none of the women questioned why she had to come over especially right after a trip, though she mentioned there were a few raised eyebrows and snickers from Lia and Yuna. 

“So,” Ryujin leaned against the wall. You take in her comfortable wardrobe, an oversized hoodie that reminded you of one you hadn’t seen in a while and a simple pair of sweats. 

“So.” You broke out into a smile when she rolled her eyes. “How was the trip?”

“Good.” Short answer, not adding anything else, but you watched her carefully. Not wanting to pressure into anything because there weren’t any expectations for this visit. “How have things been at the studio?”

“Good.” You replied the same way, internally smirking when you caught her eyebrow twitch. 

“You’re annoying, you know that right?” Ryujin huffed, pushing herself off the wall. 

“And yet, you’re here,” You took a small step forward. Your hand twitched to reach out, but kept that under control.

Patience was what you told yourself.

Ryujin moved closer to you, just enough for her to be within reach. That was when you let the restraint go, wrapping an arm around her to have body pressed against yours. She let out a small hmph as you chuckled. Her hands gently pressed on your chest as she looked up. 

She nearly stole the breath from your lungs when her eyes met yours. She’s beautiful, something you were always aware of, but being this close, made it seem like you had never really seen her. 

“What do you want to do?” You murmured, eyes glancing at her lips. You wondered how she tasted. That kiss, if you could even deem it as one, made you want her. 

“Watch this new drama with me?” It was an innocent suggestion, but based on the look in her eyes, it was the complete opposite. 

You complied, relaxing your arm to let her walk towards the couch. You couldn’t figure out her angle, and honestly, it didn’t matter. If she wanted to draw this tension out, you would go with it until one of you snapped. 

(You hoped it wasn’t going to be you.)

It happened like this. 

Ryujin put whatever show she wanted to watch on as you settled on the couch. She scooted a bit, making room, but it was pointless when she curled herself into you, resting her head in the crook of your neck. 

The opening credits started as your body relaxed into the cushion. You were hyper aware of Ryujin and all the movements she made. She placed her hand on your stomach, a bit lower than you’d say for cuddling. You did your best to ignore your body’s reaction, your cock stirred as her hand found a new spot on the waistband of your sweats.

One minute your attention was on the television, the next Ryujin was on your lap. She pulled you into a searing kiss that you followed without hesitating, letting out a groan the moment her tongue dipped into your mouth. 

The next minute, or however long it was, Ryujin kneeled in between your legs, hand swiftly moving to pull your length out. She didn’t bother with pulling your sweats all the way down, just enough for her to wrap her lips around you. 

“Ryujin,” You groaned through gritted teeth, head tilting backwards as her tongue licked around the tip. 

It had to have lasted longer than a minute because by the time Ryujin popped your now-erect cock out of her mouth, she was undressed, naked, as she straddled you. 

There were too many things happening at once and your brain didn’t have the bandwidth to register it fast enough. You didn’t have time to admire Ryujin’s body because her hand reached for your cock, gently tapping over her clit. And she was soaked. You could probably slide right in between her legs and spontaneously combust because it was all too much. She guided you along her slit, making everything wetter as she teased the tip at her entrance. 

Your hands grabbed onto her hips, the muscles pliable as they tightened to bring her body down. You had one thing on your mind and that was Ryujin. 

As you tried your best to get her to move, Ryujin leaned forward, lips ghosting your ear, “Do you want to know something?”

You didn’t understand why or how she felt the need to tell you whatever was more pressing than getting inside her as quickly as possible. 

“What?” You groaned again as your cock slid in between her lower lips. Your body had a mind of its own, rolling upward for the tip to graze where you need to be at this point. 

“Do you really want to know?” The question came out breathy, voice shaking as you tried to pull her down. 

You didn’t, but her position was firm. She didn’t budge. “Yes, fuck, tell me.” Your control was slipping fast. 

“I’ve thought about this,” Ryujin said as if it wasn’t a big deal. “I’ve thought about you like this. I always wondered what it’d be like.”

You didn’t share that sentiment, but at this rate with a naked Ryujin squirming on your lap, doing everything to not slide straight down, your imagination ran wild. 

“Well, why don’t we find out?” You grunted, frustrated with her teasing. 

Ryujin strategically placed your tip, shifting her body slightly forward, at her opening. Heat emanated from the contact and you nearly blew your load, embarrassingly enough. You’d like to believe you had a healthy sex life. One that wasn’t outrageous, but one that you indulge in casually, occasionally, with women. You weren’t a stranger to one night stands, but you tended to be consistent with one person.

“You’re definitely bigger than I imagined,” She slowly, so fucking slowly, inserted you, lowering her body as you were immediately engulfed by her warmth. “I don’t know if you’ll fit. It feels tight.”

“Jagiya,” The nickname fell from your mouth too easily, earning a grin from the woman who literally could do anything to you. 

“Jagiya?” Ryujin repeated, tilting her head. “Cute. I didn’t know you thought of me so fondly already.” 

Your mind screamed enough, done with her teasing to the point that you needed to take the control back. 

(You had none left, but that wasn’t the point.) 

In a fluid motion, you switched positions, lifting Ryujin off before she could continue any longer with the torturous pace she tried to set. Her knees fell to the side, and you finally took all of her in. 

“You’re…” You had no words. Her skin was soft, yet firm as you ran your hands down her stomach. The muscles flinched at the touch, watching her tilt her head back as you swiped a broad finger through her folds. “Testing me. You have about five seconds to tell me to stop.”

Ryujin smirked, boldly slipping her hand in between your bodies. Delicate fingers wrapped around your girth, aiming the head directly where you were dying to be. “Do it, jagiya.”

Your hands shot to her waist as you sunk in.

The air left your lungs the moment her warmth hugged your length, her legs spread wider as you continued to sink deeper into her. Her hand fell to the side, gripping the cushion as she let out the hottest moan you ever heard. A sound you wanted to hear again. 

And again the moment you filled her to the hilt. 

You swore you saw the gates of heaven opened up—or hell—welcoming you with a warm, tight hug. 

“Okay so better than I imagined,” Ryujin moaned, all breathy, “So fucking better.” 

You blanked out, unsure of what reality you fell into. You couldn’t think of anything but her. “Baby,” You groaned as her walls pulsed, throbbing along with your cock. You blew out a breath to keep you from blowing your load. 

“You feel better,” Ryujin said slowly, seductively, thick with desire, “But can you fuck me like how I imagined?” 

The challenge tapped into a side you didn’t go to often. Hardly ever. A much darker side you only went to with one person before. It hadn’t been seen since. 

Yet it was there, on your shoulder, whispering into your ear that Ryujin wanted it. Wanted you and all the debauchery you could bring into her life. 

“Don’t tempt me, Jin-yah,” You gritted through your teeth, the voice on your shoulder getting louder as she squirmed in your hold. The movement triggered the nerves in your body, shooting along your spine at the sensation. 

“Fuck me,” Ryujin moaned, rolling her body down in a fluid motion. You snapped your hips forward, watching her breasts bounce from the force. “God, yes. Please.” 

You slowly, agonizingly, withdrew your cock, leaving just the head nestled in between her folds. You didn’t miss the way she gasped, sharply inhaling, whining at the loss. You saw the way her lower lips pulsed, gripping on the little you left inside her.

“You want me?” You had to hear her say it. You needed her permission before you listened to the devil, praising you for the sins you wanted to commit. 

Ryujin eagerly nodded, eyes low as she stared at you. “I want you.” 

You thrusted without warning, her body jolting as she bit her lip, stifling a moan. 

“I want to hear you,” You grunted with another precise thrust. 

This time, Ryujin screamed. 

“Fuck,” Your eyes rolled back, choking out, “I want to drown myself in you.” 

You moved on pure instinct after that. You focused on Ryujin, her moans, her gasps, her body reacting to yours. You might have lost your sense of reality because she felt too tight, too warm, too good, but she tethered you, guiding you to remind you that what was happening was very real. 

You didn’t know how, but you somehow ended up in your room. Ryujin placed a finger on your chest, gently pushing you on the bed. You let her, easily laying back before she straddled your hips. 

“My turn,” Ryujin kissed you sweetly on the lips before you were wrapped around her once again. 

It happened fast, embarrassingly fast as she rode you into oblivion. You couldn’t help but move with her, meeting her at the perfect time. She fell forward once you hit that spot, bringing her mouth to yours in a messy kiss. 

“God,” Ryujin breathed out, “I’m going to—”

“Me too,” You grunted with a quick snap of your hips. You felt her pussy tightening as her pace increased, nearly slamming down on your body. “I—fuck, where?” 

How you had the state of mind to ask was beyond you. You wanted to paint her walls white, making sure she was filled with you and then some. Her hands found yours, interlacing them together as she brought your arms over your head. 

“In my mouth,” Ryujin said sharply before slyly adding, “But after I cum.” 

You didn’t get the chance to formulate a response because Ryujin’s hands let go, perching them on your chest as you watched her hips move dangerously over you. You pathetically whimpered at the sight of your cock disappearing in between her legs. Your stomach tightened as you miserably tried to hold it together, and you almost exploded the moment her inner walls squeezed like vice, sucking the air out of your lungs. Her body froze before violently shaking, the rhythmic pulses had you dizzy with pleasure. 

It took everything in you to not cum inside her as you watched her orgasm shatter through her. She nearly sobbed as her nails dug into your chest, the pain heightening all your senses. 

You almost shouted when the air hit your cock, the warmth suddenly gone before it was replaced with another kind of warmth, a different kind that had you seeing stars. 

“Oh—fuck,” Your hand shot downwards, fingers tangling in Ryujin’s hair. “So fucking good, Jin-yah.” 

The praise spurred her on as her throat constricted around your length, catching you off guard that you couldn’t stop your orgasm any more. Hot thick ropes shot out of you without warning. Ryujin slightly gagged, causing you to thrust into her mouth as you pushed her head down more. 

That was the hardest you ever came, and Ryujin drained you into her mouth without any complaint, any resistance. Once it subsided, the grip on her hair slackened, arm falling off to the side, as your eyes fell shut. You vaguely heard her choke, heavily breathing, that you barely opened your eyes to see a small dribble of your essence drip down her chin. You didn’t miss the way her throat moved, swallowing your release without asking. 

Ryujin’s eyes opened slowly, a small smile tugging at her lips as your eyes met. Her jaw lowered, seeing all pink with pearly white teeth with no trace of you anywhere. 

“So?” You said after a moment, catching your breath. She placed a soft kiss on your stomach before crawling back on top of you, laying her head sweetly on your chest. “Better than your imagination?” 

“You have no idea,” Ryujin answered softly, affectionately, lips kissing your neck. 

-- -- 

You fell into some sort of routine with Ryujin. 

She waited till you were done with clients at the studio, waited till your work station was clean, waited for you while Ryuseong teased you both. 

You didn’t ask her to, but there was some part of you that was glad she did. 

Some nights ended the way the first day did while others ended falling asleep, cuddled underneath the blanket, wrapped around each other while you shared things you never spoke of. 

There was this part of you that wanted to ask her out, like on a date, in public, not restricted to the four walls of your apartment. You could hardly count takeaways with a drama queued as a ‘date.’

You weren’t even sure if whatever was going on was something serious or something just for fun. With the amount of time you spent with her, the more it felt serious. 

-- --

“You’re going to the opening right?” Yuna asked as she walked through the door, exiting the restaurant, arms interlocked with Ryujin. 

“It’s my brother’s second tattoo shop in Itaewon,” Ryujin answered, “And the tenth anniversary of his first one, of course I will.”

“It’ll be nice,” Yeji added next to you. “Oppa said there’s going to be a DJ too.” 

You had just finished dinner, paid by you, which wasn't a big deal. You tended to pay for things when you were out with Ryujin and her friends. It sort of just happened when before you and Ryujin slept together, things would be split evenly among the group. They were surprised the first time, shocked even, that you paid without them knowing. They wanted to give you their share, but you brushed them off, giving an excuse that they were still in school and their money should be saved. The girls began talking about their semester starting in a few weeks. 

You stayed back a little, opting for a quick nicotine fix before you spend the rest of your evening with Ryujin. She wanted to finish the drama you had been watching together. You didn’t want to hover, or have the smoke in their faces. 

You noticed Ryujin turned her head slightly backward, ensuring you were still behind them. You held up the vape pen she forced you to buy because she wasn’t the biggest fan of cigarettes. You never thought you’d give them up, the short-lived high wasn’t the same, but for her, you found yourself switching over. 

(The smile on her face after she kissed you one night when she didn’t taste the bitterness of tobacco was a choice you didn’t mind doing.) 

Ryujin rolled her eyes, falling back into the conversation as you took a long drag. You held the air, letting the poison sit in your body, before you blew the air out, the slight tilt of your head back as the smoke filled your vision. The rush didn’t have the same effect, but it was enough for you to relax your body. 

You listened in on their discussion, something about the classes they were taking. Ryujin told you her schedule once she found out, saying she wouldn’t be at the shop as much with final year projects and such. She seemed a bit annoyed at that, but convinced you to pick her up when she needed it. It didn’t take much, but she promised she wouldn’t inconvenience you—she was never one to begin with.

You took another drag, tuning the chatter out, when Yuna mentioned something that caught your attention. It was a simple question about some boy named Haein? from what you could hear without being nosey, that she directed to Ryujin. 

“Yuna-yah,” Ryujin lightly scolded, shaking her head, “I already told you. I’m not interested in him.”

“You went out with him twice, and from what Lia’s heard, you keep avoiding him and won’t answer any of his calls,” The information stung because you hadn’t realized this was happening. You knew Ryujin had a life outside of hanging out at her brother’s studio and spending nights with you, but you would have wanted to know. “Twice seems pretty interested.”

The vape pen was brought to your lips reflexively, breathing in deeply to tamper the sudden ache behind your ribcage. You were never a controlling person in a relationship, so you didn’t know what to do with this feeling. Something akin to jealousy, but closer to hurt.

You heard Yeji mumble Yuna not now as she glanced at you. You met her eyes, a sad pitying look that you shrugged. You needed to remember that nothing was established, nothing said you were together, but everything screamed differently. 

“Oppa,” Yuna turned around, yanking her companion to face you in the middle of the street. “What do you think? Does it seem like unnie’s interested? You know her well enough.” 

You tucked your vape pen into your pocket, glancing at Ryujin as you chose your words carefully. “I don’t think anything. She’s allowed to do what she wants,” Was what you came up with. You didn’t miss the way the woman in question tensed, and you weren’t sure if Yuna noticed. If she did, it wasn’t acknowledged. 

“Oh come on,” Yuna rolled her eyes, and by the way her gaze rolled back to you, you were going to be challenged. “How would you feel if someone you went out a couple times with, and it all went well, kept dodging your calls?” 

“I’d let it be,” You shrugged, indifferent to the hypothetical situation, “They have their own life. I’d be a little sad, but I can’t force them to want to spend time together.” You hoped that answer would suffice, tacking on a subtle dig to Ryujin. 

“See, Yuna, now drop—”

The youngest cut in before Yeji could finish her sentence, “Ugh, boring. Where’s the chase? The back and forth? The pining?” 

“I don’t have time for that,” You said bluntly, trying not to sound too harsh. You were starting to get irritated. “I’m generally upfront about how I feel and what I want when I’m with someone. If they just want to fuck, fine I’m in. If they want something more serious and I feel the same way, I tell them.”

“And what if it’s reversed?” The questions didn’t stop. All these hypotheticals that never directly translate into practice. “What if you want something more serious and they don’t feel the same way? What do you do then?” 

You got the feeling there was an underlying agenda. It was like she was searching for an answer. It hit a little too close. You didn’t want to be the first to show your hand with Ryujin right there. 

“Then it ends,” You said simply, reaching for your pocket. You desperately wanted 

“That simple?” Yuna raised an eyebrow, even crossing her arms with Ryujin still wrapped around. 

You had always been in tune with Ryujin’s emotions, and you saw her eyebrow twitch—a clear sign she was starting to get annoyed. “Unfortunately yeah,” Shrugging, “I’m not going to waste time with someone that doesn’t feel the same way if things are heading in that direction. Might as well save both of us the pain.” 

Yuna dropped the topic, rolling her eyes at the honesty. It wasn’t like you could be anything else. You couldn’t—wouldn’t—lie or lead someone on if the intentions weren’t the same. She pulled Ryujin to continue walking while Yeji shot you another sympathetic smile, mouthing sorry before following after. 

It left you alone, frozen, at these feelings you inadvertently developed. It was naive to think otherwise since you spent a lot of time with her these days, especially intimately. It hit you like a brick wall, crashing down on you as you couldn’t fathom the idea that she felt the same. 

You couldn’t dwell on it too much—not the time nor place—because Ryujin’s voice called your name, that soft, affectionate way she did when you laid underneath the covers, wrapped around each other. You looked up, seeing her eyebrows furrowed. You gave a lazy smile, though she didn’t look like she believed you. 

You weren’t even sure you believed yourself. 

-- 

“What’s wrong?” Ryujin asked quietly as she pulled away, seated on your lap with your back pressed against the headboard. 

“Nothing.” You averted your eyes to anywhere else, but it was hard with her in front of you. You felt her gaze, but avoided it. The floor seemed a lot more interesting anyways. 

“Was it because of what Yuna said?” She didn’t believe it was nothing. “Don’t take her seriously. She’s just nosey, always in my business about who I’m dating or not.” 

You hated yourself for the next words that came out, “But are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Dating anyone,” You mumbled, briefly meeting her eyes. 

“I mean no?” That answer did nothing but grow the black hole in your stomach. “Not officially at least. A few dates here and there, but nothing that I see serious.”

You appreciated her honesty. She seemed so casual about it—sleeping with you while going on dates. The situation itself was a conundrum because what did that mean for you? Were you just someone she slept with? Were you keeping her away from finding the one? Were you more than just a fuck? 

You had to know, “So who am I then?” 

Ryujin tilted her head, curiously staring at your face. You felt vulnerable, unsure of what your expression portrayed, because you were sure she figured it out. 

“What do you mean?” She said it slowly, carefully, as if whatever you say next could alter the course of your relationship. 

You couldn’t believe you had to spell it out for her. “Like, what does that mean? You go off on dates with all these guys, yet you come to me after? Am I just a fuck?” It borderlined on desperation, the words falling out. “Am I someone you want to date?” 

You watched as she swung her leg over, moving to sit next to you. You shook your head, already knowing where this conversation was going. 

“I like spending time with you.” 

“But being at the shop and then falling into bed with me, that’s how you spend time with me.” A pang shot through your chest. It ached enough for you to scratch over your shirt, self-soothing the pain to go away. “You don’t want to do anything else?” 

“Did you?” This whole answering a question with a question was about to push you off the edge. “I’m being serious. Did you? I came into this thinking you just wanted to get your dick wet since you had Rosie.” You heard the disdain at the mention of your previous lover. “I didn’t think you wanted more than that.” 

“I didn’t either,” You confessed, sighing dejectedly. “It’s crazy, and a fucking cliche of all things, to develop feelings like this. It’s okay. No hard feelings.” 

“Wait—” You didn’t want to hear anymore, so you stood up, reaching for the shirt that was thrown on the ground. Your heart dropped, aching, scratching at your rib cage as your chest tightened. You quickly slipped it on. “You like me?” 

You forced a smile, “I do, and it’s okay that you never thought of this like that. It is, it really is. I just don’t think I could keep doing it.” 

You gathered the rest of your things while Ryujin called out your name, telling you to don’t go. You were glad her apartment was vacant. With Lia visiting family in Canada, she offered her place since you spent most of the time at yours. 

You were halfway out the door when you turned around to Ryujin, still in the same position. It broke your heart to leave, but you had no other choice. 

Clean break right?

Should make things easier right? 

“You definitely don’t deserve to call yourself someone to just get my dick wet,” The vulgarity had you grimacing, “Because I never thought of you as that. Not in the slightest.” 

You left before Ryujin could respond, the steps heavier the closer you get to the front door. It went from zero to sixty, and it gnawed at you to stay. 

That simple right? 

You ate your earlier words because this was not a clean break. This did not make things easier. This was complicated in all the worst ways. 

-- -- -- 

You send a message to your cousin, thanking him for his quick response on letting you stay with him in the states for a couple months. Lisa appears with Jennie in tow and drinks in hand as the party’s in full swing. 

“Who are you texting?” Lisa asks, placing your drink on the table as they take their seats across from you. 

“My cousin,” You answer, distracted with the flurry of messages he sends. He’s excited because he’ll finally have someone to go out with, needing a wingman since his friends were—in his words—boring. 

“I still can’t believe you’re going to be gone for almost a year,” Lisa takes a sip from her glass. “How’d Ryuseong take it?” 

Your mentor took the news as better than you hoped. He was surprised, but expected it. You couldn’t help but think he knew that you had been sleeping with his sister for the past few months. He wouldn’t say anything when she was around you, but he’d raise an eyebrow whenever she got a little closer than friendly. 

You hastily decided a couple days after ‘ending’ your arrangement with Ryujin that you’d travel a bit while tattooing at places that would take you. A couple cities in the states were planned along with Tokyo and Melbourne. You were still waiting to hear back from your friend in London while close to finalizing spending a month or so in Paris. 

It would be good for you, as Ryuseong said once you told him your plans. He even helped put you in contact with some of his connections to let you work with them for a nominal fee. He reassured you that you’d always have a place to work whenever you were in the country, half-joking that you’d be managing the shops when you returned for good. 

“Good. He’s happy for me, I think,” You scratch your head. “Bummed that I won’t be around, but he gets it. He suggested doing this a while ago.” 

“But why now?” Jennie asks curiously. Her girlfriend gently elbows her, shooting her a warning look. “What? I don’t know enough about his life.” 

“It’s fine,” You wave Lisa off. “Just some things happened that made me rethink what I want.” 

Jennie glances behind you, “Like with a girl?” You’re about to turn around when her hand reaches out, shaking her head, “Just an observation because there’s been a girl looking at you since you got here.” 

“It’s complicated,” You mumble, fingers curling around the glass. 

“Well,” Jennie smirks, “It’s about to get more complicated.” 

“What do you—” The question dies on your lips before Jennie stands abruptly, squealing at whoever just appeared. 

“Chaeng!”

Oh.

Here we fucking go. 

-- 

You push the door open, breathing in the fresh air since the venue was suffocating with the amount of people that showed up. It was a bigger turnout than you expected, but Ryuseong knew a lot of people. 

You pat your pockets as you search for the cigarette package. You relapsed into the original vice since Ryujin was no longer in the picture. You excused yourself from the debate Rosie and Lisa were having over the best restaurant for tteokbokki takeaway, earning a glare from the latter because she wanted you to quit, but oh well. 

You pull the lighter out, sticking the cigarette in between your lips. There isn’t much foot traffic so you opt for a short walk to the alley around the corner. 

You inhale, catching the flame as the nicotine rush flows through your veins. You’ve been drinking, so it’s definitely a nice sensation, leaving you lightheaded as you gain your footing. 

Ryuseong gave a small speech, thanking everyone for showing up and their support over the years. He even announced your small departure, wishing you good luck that garnered a small applause from the crowd. You politely bowed, waving to those nearby, while Lisa ruffled your hair. 

It has overall been a nice night. 

You have no complaints. You have a couple days left in Seoul, and this is probably the last time you’ll see most of your friends. Lisa tentatively—forcefully—planned a dinner that you had no choice to go to. Rosie gave you a playful smile when she saw you, even kissing you briefly on the cheek. You were alone with her for a moment while the couple went to get more drinks, and she teased you for ghosting her, but ultimately understood once you explained the situation. 

“Water under the bridge, yeah?” Rosie smiled behind her martini glass, “No worries. We’re fine.” 

Though, when you told her that things ended, she rolled her eyes. “She has to have some feelings for you, and maybe she’s too naive to realize it, but I don’t know of any girl that has ever went out on dates and then fucked the same guy after them for there to be no feelings.” 

You didn’t want to comment on that, but Rosie asked if the girl was here. She was always perceptive, sensing your hesitation before answering. She dramatically rolled her eyes again at the exact moment Lisa and Jennie returned. They asked what you were talking about, and Lisa stupidly said it was Ryujin. 

“She looks like she wants to rip my head off,” Rosie chuckled, tilting her head in what you assumed was Ryujin’s general location. “If you want to have fun tonight, let me know. It could be one last hurrah before you leave.” 

You smile to yourself as you take another drag, thinking about Rosie’s proposal. You didn’t have anything to lose, so you are highly considering it. You always had fun with her, so why not? There’s nothing holding you back. 

At least, that is, until you hear a heated conversation a few meters down the alley. 

Naturally, you look up. 

You hadn’t actually crossed paths with Ryujin this whole evening. Whether it was her avoiding you or you subconsciously steering clear, you only saw her from afar. 

You would be able to recognize her a mile away and here she is with some boy in her face, towering over her. You let out a sigh, shaking your head. You don’t need to get involved because Ryujin has always been capable of taking care of herself. Though for your peace of mind, you walk closer to where they are. 

“Is everything alright?” Your voice breaks whatever tension as his head snaps in your direction, letting the cigarette rest in between your lips.

“Yeah, we’re fine,” He answers, pulling back slightly as his other hand drops. The question wasn’t directed towards him as you watch Ryujin stand up straight. She doesn’t say anything, which she doesn’t need to. “Let’s go Ryujin.” 

As Ryujin starts to walk toward you, the boy grabs her wrist, jerking her body backwards. You wait again, watching it unfold before you have to step in. Because you will, something Ryujin is very aware of. 

“Let go,” She says quietly, warningly, more for the boy’s sake. He doesn’t, stupidly, as his grip tightens, causing her to wince. “Ow, you’re hurting me.” 

Within seconds, you’re in between them, hand chopping through as you stand in front of Ryujin. 

“She said let go.” You say quietly, calm and composed. 

“Who the hell are you?” The boy spits back, stepping into your space, even bumping his shoulder against your chest. 

“Haein,” Ryujin hisses, hoping he gets the message. She knows your temper, and she knows how protective you are, especially when it involves her. “Just let go.” 

This must be the boy Yuna was going on about that night. Interesting. He didn’t seem like Ryujin’s type, but what did you know when it came to her ‘type.’ 

“Seriously, listen to her,” The cigarette falls to the ground. 

“I’m not going to take orders from some stranger,” Haein says sharply, yanking Ryujin forward. He must have no spatial awareness because you’re still in between them and the small yelp she lets out has you reaching for his arm. “What the—”

Your other hand swings clear across his face as he collapses to the ground. You might’ve heard the sound of bone cracking, but you didn’t care. “Told you,” You mutter, tapping his stomach with your foot as he flinches. 

“Oppa,” Ryujin sighs, shaking her head. “I can take care of myself.” 

You barely hear her, crouching down to his level, “For what it’s worth, every time she went out with you, she spent the night with me.” You’re still drunk, and the words come out without much thought. It’s rubbing salt in the wound, but at this rate, you don’t care.

“Oppa!” Ryujin grabs you by your jacket collar, pulling you up with enough force that you stumble, “What the fuck?” 

You shake her off, straightening your clothes out, “What? Is it not true? You’re welcome by the way,” You turn to walk away, but her hand encloses over your wrist. “Ryujin,” You deadpan when you face her. 

“You’re such a fucking ass,” Ryujin steps closer, her body pressed against yours. “Why would you even say that?” She gestures to Haein, who’s still on the ground, groaning in pain. 

“For fun,” You reply sarcastically, smirking as you shake her hand off. “Have a great night.” 

This time, Ryujin lets you go. You’re pissed off, and it’s a recipe for disaster if you stay any longer. Things are still fresh. You’re nursing a heartache and leaving in less than 48 hours, so probably in both your best interests, it’s not worth it to fight or argue or get into things. 

Ryujin did not share that same thought process because you feel two smaller hands on your back, pushing you off balance. Your reflexes are impaired, but you’re fast enough to catch yourself from falling flat on your face. 

“Ryujin, what the fuck,” You had never turned around so fast. Your relationship, or whatever the fuck it was, had never been physical, explosive, and the ironic part was that this turned you on. “What’s your problem?” You growl, eyes narrowing.

She never backed down from a challenge, hearing the countless, mindless arguments she would have with her friends over game rules and the sarcastic remarks she’d throw at Ryuseong whenever he did something. 

You get pushed again, but it doesn’t do much. You remain stable, unmoving as the two hands on your chest curl into fists, her head dropping. 

“You don’t get to fucking,” Hands hitting hard into your chest after each word, “Throw what we did together in someone else’s face.” The power of the punches weakens at the end. She almost seems defeated. 

“Yeah?” You raise an eyebrow, “And what did we do, Jin-yah? We fucked more than enough times, but that’s all it was, right?” You’re being petty, borderline spiteful, with the venom you were spewing out. 

It’s not a surprise when Ryujin’s hand comes clear across your face because it was very much deserved, but that doesn't mean it didn’t hurt. Your cheek stung from the force, eyes snapping to her heated glare. 

“Fuck you.”

“Time and place, jagiya.” You’re definitely an asshole for using the name you’d call her when it was just you two, a name she’d shyly blush to. “I’m leaving in a couple days, so why not send me off with a bang?” 

It’s a taunt, a fib, a put your money where your mouth is kind of situation. You might be riled up, the slightest bit horny too, but you don’t think she’ll actually go through it.

If it wasn’t dark in the alley, you would’ve seen the wheels turning, the pros and cons weighing in her mind, seriously considering it. You could’ve put a stop to it right then and there, walking away from the argument, walking away from her until whenever you’d see her next. 

But you were drunk, too eager to be in her presence, too starved that you’d let her abuse you just to feel her touch, that you missed all of that completely. 

Ryujin calls your bluff, “Fine. I live nearby, and Lia’s sleeping over Yeji’s tonight.” 

What?

You watch her face form into a cheshire grin. You could only imagine the expression you have because she leans away, stepping out of the space, tilting her head. 

“Come on, yeobo.” Ryujin tosses the name she used for you, “I’ll make it worth your while,” She takes a slow step backwards, running a hand through her hair. 

You gulp, nodding like the fool that you were whenever it came to Ryujin. She could easily control you, and you knew that. Call it being a pushover, but you had a soft spot for her. A part that was an advantage to you both, especially when it came to matters of intimacy. 

You start to walk, hands reaching for her when you get closer. You wrap your arms around her waist, pulling her body in. Your face nuzzles into her hair, whispering, “Are you sure?” 

Ryujin chuckles before answering yes because she explicitly states she needs to fuck the frustration you’ve caused her in the past ten minutes. 

“Let’s go,” She stands on her tippy toes, lips brushing against your jaw. 

Your cheeks heat up at the contact, a small smile tugs at the corner of your mouth. 

-- 

Ryujin’s apartment was generally off limits, coming over less than a handful of times. Lia tended to stay home so coming over wasn’t an option, especially with how loud you both would get. It was more of a respect thing. Maybe a privacy thing too, but that was between you and Ryujin. 

You couldn’t look around too much because Ryujin was on you once the door shut. She (literally) jumped on you, wrapping her legs around your waist, mouth landing perfectly on yours as she kissed you with a fervor you never experienced. It caught you off guard, knocking you off balance that you had to steady yourself against the wall. Something might have fallen off the entryway table, but neither of you paid attention to it as she shrugged your jacket off. 

Leading you to your knees digging into the hardwood with your head in between her legs. You don’t know how long it’s been, but your tongue has been moving which way and every way thoroughly between her lower lips without any release. She’s getting impatient, based on the way her hips jolt with your nose brushing against her clit. 

“Answer the question,” You murmur against her pussy, chin slick with wetness as you stare up at her. With her head thrown back, she doesn’t see you prompting you to continue with your task. 

You’re being mean, not letting her cum until she answers a curious question. Though, she’s not being forthcoming either on giving an answer so it seems fair to put her through tortuous strokes of your tongue. 

“What fucking question?” Ryujin snaps, hips rolling forward as you pull away. “Get back there.” 

“You know,” You blow gently at her clit as her body shivers, hands bunching the bedsheet, “If you slept with what’s his face.” 

“None of your fucking business,” She says weakly as you stick your tongue in between her folds. “Why do you care if I did?” She manages to get out, panting as you gently bite an outer lip. 

“Just wanted to know if he was able to make you this wet,” You answer simply, tongue trailing lower to an untouched area—at least by you specifically.

“What’re you even—oh!” Ryujin gasps once your tongue invades the puckered hole, tensing as you dip in. “I’ve never—fuck.” 

You lean back, and you’re met with a heated gaze from the woman sprawled out on her bed. You smirk, even licking your lips as she extends a leg to put you back where you belong. 

“God can you just fuck me already?” Ryujin snaps, eyes glaring as you don’t budge. 

“Answer the fucking question,” You say while unbuckling your belt. You spring out of your pants, immediately seeing the tent formed from your boxer briefs. 

“No he didn’t make me this wet,” Her hands reach for the waistband, shoving your underwear down. You let out a groan, hips moving forward, as her fingers wrap around your cock. “He made me cum though.” 

You roll your eyes, withdrawing yourself away from Ryujin. She lets out a small whine. “Go fuck him then.” 

It’s an empty threat. A bluff. You and her know that at the end of the night it’ll be you doing all the things he did and more. You want her, and well, she wants you. That hasn’t changed even if it has been a few weeks. There hasn’t been anyone since either on your end. Sure you could say you were jealous, but she’s with you right now. 

Not him. 

There’s a sick part of you that wants to make her work for it, but you’re impatient, eager, to remind her of the time spent together. This could very much be the last time, which tugs at your heart, but you might as well make it worth it. 

You’re about to lose your mind anyways. 

Though, Ryujin seems like she’s just about there since you’d be teasing her for a while, edging her to the breaking point that she automatically turns over on her stomach, raising her hips that has your mouth watering. 

“Baby,” She shakes her hips side-to-side, arching her back as she presents herself more, “You know he could never fuck me the way you do.” 

Without thinking, you swat your hand down, an easy flick of the wrist, palm connecting to skin that resulted in a resonating sound through the room. Ryujin moans, hips rolling backward as you withdraw your arm. 

“How do I know that?” You ask absentmindedly, watching as she attempts to grind herself on you. You rest your hand on her lower back, halting any movement. Bending forward as your other hand pushes your pants to drop around your ankles, you get close enough that her head drops back. “Prove it,” You murmur, gently nipping at her ear. 

Ryujin’s hand snakes between your bodies, and when her fingers wrap around you once again, you don’t fight it. She guides your length to her entrance. Your body shivers once the tip makes contact, magnifying how wet she is. 

“You’re dripping,” You grunt, mesmerized by the way she slides your cock in between her folds. 

“For you,” Ryujin moans when she slides backwards to take you in, “Only for you.” 

You’re moaning with her, watching, feeling the initial tightness engulf part of your cock. It’s a sensory overload that your hips slightly thrust to get deeper. It’s a lot to take in after not being with her like this. 

And fuck you missed her. 

You tell her so, head falling backwards as she continues to take you in. She sucks in a breath at the confession. Your hands find her hips, gripping tightly as you pull her along your cock. She’s practically keening at the stretch while you’re holding everything in to not thrust all the way in. 

“Ryujin, slow down,” You say through gritted teeth, air leaving your lungs as she takes you without giving you a moment to breathe. “Baby.”

“Please,” Ryujin begs, shaking her hips as you feel yourself sink deeper into her. “Fuck me, I missed you.” 

It’s all too overwhelming. The reciprocated confession. The warmth of her pussy wrapped around you has you seeing stars. Adding on how tight and wet she is, you’re about to bust. 

“Tell me again,” You slowly withdraw your hips, peeking at how soaked you are, her slick dripping down your thighs. 

“I missed you.” 

And you thrust back in, earning a filthy moan escaping her lips. Whatever sense of control you had snapped, the want—the sudden need—to make up for lost time. 

You choose long and deep strokes, ensuring you’re hitting every single nerve inside her body. You keep a steady tempo, letting the moans and pants that fall from her guide you. You can’t help but sound off with her, groaning and grunting as she moves with you. 

It’s an easy rhythm to fall back into, especially with how familiar you are with her body. You know every spot, inside and out, that could have her lose her mind. 

“Baby, you feel so fucking good,” Ryujin lulls her head back, resting against your shoulder. 

The change in position has your lips against her ear, teeth biting and nearly snarling as you keep the consistent pace. The sound of your skin clapping echoes throughout her room that you pray there’s some kind of proofing. At least to muffle her voice because your ears are ringing. 

You can’t help the words that come out of your mouth, so swept up in the moment, so swept up in her, that you tell her how much you’ve missed feeling her pussy around you, how she’s taking you so well, how she’s going to make you release if she kept squeezing your cock like a vice. 

“Do it.”

That wasn’t the response you expected. 

Not by a long shot. 

Every time you and Ryujin had sex, you’d ask where she wanted it. Half the time, it would be in her mouth. The other half would be over her body because she thought it was hot, and well, you agreed. You entertained the idea of marking her as yours, but there was one way you hadn’t. 

You’ve come inside women before. It was usually your long-term girlfriends, and that one-off who swore they were safe. No child has appeared at your door yet, so there’s that. With Ryujin, you never asked—it wasn’t your place to. You wouldn’t assume so because you weren’t dating. There was that possessive side of you that wanted to, but you were being selfish. 

So this was new. 

“Wh-what?” You stutter, hips ceasing all movement. Ryujin doesn’t like that, whining, squirming with your cock inside her. She gasps as you hit spots you hadn’t before. There’s a delicious friction of her walls hugging, pulsing, around you. “Jin-yah, whoa, slow down. I’m going to cum if you keep moving like that.” 

“Isn’t that the point?” Ryujin moans loudly at one particular spot. Her body moves on its own accord for your cock to keep brushing against it. 

“No.” You’re trying to say something, but Ryujin feels so good that you resume your movement, meeting her in perfect sync. Her hips snap downward, adding a motion you aren’t expecting, and it has you seeing stars when her clit brushes against you. The coil tightens in your lower abdomen, a tell-tale sign that you’re really close. “Jagiya,” You hardly recognize your own voice. “I don’t know if–fuck,” She does a nasty move that sucks the breath from your lungs, “Where do you want it?” 

You wanted to hear it again. You needed to hear it again, to make sure you weren’t imagining it. 

“Inside,” Ryujin commands through a moan, as you continue to pound into her. Her breathing staccatos with each thrust as she repeated the word over and over, begging you because she wants the feeling of you painting her walls. After one particularly hard thrust, her body violently shakes, convulsing as her orgasm washes over, pussy pulsating and tightening over your cock like never before, that a sentence slips from her mouth, “Be the first to cum inside me.” 

Ryujin hits the nail on the coffin as you lose control over your body, hips jackhammering into her as the coil in your stomach snaps, back seizing erratically as hot, thick white ropes flood her without warning. 

“Oh, oh that feels–fuck.” Ryujin’s too cockdrunk to finish a sentence, and you’re too pussydrunk to even hear her. You don’t know what’s going on down there, but you swear her pussy’s milking you for all you have, walls massaging your cock that you fall forward, taking her with you. You snap your hips one, two, three, four times, before another orgasm releases into her. 

“Mine,” You snarl into her ear, lightly humping into her to make sure every part of her is filled. You repeat the word like a mantra and she nods, mumbling a blissed out yours. 

The climax eventually subsides, but your positions haven’t changed. You gently grind, garnering soft, weak moans from the woman beneath you. You don’t want to pull out, but the overstimulation is creeping in. Reluctantly, you do so, slowly withdrawing your cock to not hurt her. You grin at the small whine she lets out, but you soothe her with a kiss behind the ear. 

You push yourself up to inspect the mess you made, and your cock twitches at the white liquid dripping from her folds. You stare for a second too long because an airy chuckle sounds off before Ryujin’s small fingers slide underneath, slipping in between the lower lips, pushing what’s fallen out back in. 

“Baby.” It comes out as a warning, a borderline plea, that she stops, giggling that dispels the wave of lust from taking over. You roll your eyes, rolling off her body and laying next to her. 

Ryujin turns to face you, slotting a leg in between yours, as she scoots closer. You take her hands in yours, bringing them to your chest. She speaks first, “That was…an experience.” 

“A good one?” You ask softly, eyes meeting hers. 

“Definitely.” Ryujin sighs dreamily, eyes closing before she drops her head slightly. 

“Am I really the only person to ever do that?” You watch her eyes open again, an indiscernible look that drops before you realize the answer. 

Ryujin nods shyly, biting her lip, “We’re safe, if that’s what you’re worried about.” You shake your head, slightly offended that’s what she first assumed. She must’ve seen your expression change. “Did you not want to?” 

You shake your head again. “No, I did,” Sighing, “It’s just we’ve never done that. And you’ve never done that. I don’t want to take something like that from you. It’s…intimate.” That’s the only word that comes to mind. 

“Who said I didn’t want that with you?” 

“Well, we aren’t a couple,” You mumble before glancing away. Pushing on with a little more confidence, “You made it clear we weren’t.” It sounded pathetic. 

“Did you want to be?” Her questions are starting to kill your mood. You let go of her hands, sitting up abruptly. “Stop,” Her hand encloses around your wrist, tugging you back before you could leave (again.) “I’m being serious. I was serious.” 

“Ryujin,” You deadpan, head falling on the pillow as you stare at the ceiling. “Yes, I did. I still do,” You cover your face in embarrassment.

“Can you look at me?” Ryujin tries to remove your arms so she could see your face. She’s successful in that aspect, but you turn away. “You’re acting like a child.” 

“So,” You pout, avoiding her gaze. 

“You’re a dumb dumb,” Ryujin says fondly, leaning over to plant a soft kiss on your cheek. “I wasn’t sure if you meant it. I didn’t want to get my hopes up.” 

You ask for clarification because ‘hopes up’ for what exactly. Ryujin looks away this time, taking a breath before telling you she’s always had a crush on you. She explains it likely developed within the first year of meeting you. Ryuseong had noticed, teasing her at home because that’s what older brothers do. She vehemently denied any feelings, but when you brought Nayeon around, she realized it wasn’t a crush. 

“You’re older than me, and at that point, I didn’t know how to get you to see me more than Ryuseong’s little sister.” You hear the bitterness in her voice. 

“You’ve always been Ryujin to me,” You reassure sweetly, sliding your arm under to pull her into you. You peck the side of her head. “You know I’ve always looked out for you.”

“But I wanted you to look at me. The way you looked at Nayeon-unnie,” Ryujin buries her face into the crook of your neck, breath hot against your skin. 

“I’ve been for the past few months,” You whisper, tilting her head gently with two fingers on her chin. Bringing your lips down to hers, mumbling I mean it. 

“You’re leaving.” She pulls away, flicking your nose. 

“For almost a year.”

“Admit it’s because of me.”

“It’s because of you.” You comply because she’s most of the reason why in the first place. 

“I’m claiming you as mine.”

“We haven’t even been on a date yet.” 

“Then when you get back, you take me out on a date.”

“Isn’t that a little backwards to go on a date after having sex?” 

“You came inside me.” 

“I’ve never been conventional,” You sweep her body underneath yours, her legs easily spreading. 

“I feel it leaking,” Ryujin murmurs as she tilts her head back. 

“That’s hot,” Your voice shakes at the memory of cumming inside of her a few minutes ago, body reacting tenfold that you’re ready to go again. “Can I do it again?” 

“Because I’m yours?” Her tongue slips in between your lips, swallowing the moan. 

“Mine.” 

-- -- 

After eleven months, you’re finally back in Seoul. 

A lot happened that you were grateful for the experience. You met a lot of people while most importantly, perfecting your craft. You weren’t expecting to make a lot, but you made more than enough to book an earlier flight. 

You planned to return at the end of February, but you wanted to surprise Ryujin for her graduation. She was disappointed you wouldn’t be there, but was excited for your arrival. Little did she know, you’d be meeting her right after the ceremony. Thanks to the help from Yeji and Lia. 

You and Ryujin agreed you liked each other, wanting to be a couple, but kept things open since you would be thousands of miles away. You couldn’t expect her to put her life on hold for you, nor did she want you to do that either. She gave you clear instructions to do whatever you wanted with whoever you wanted as long as you told her about it. 

Well, nothing happened with anyone. Sure, you went out with people and there was some interest from women—even men, but you felt too strongly for Ryujin to give them any attention. You were loyal to a fault, and no one could change your mind. There were some that definitely tried. 

You had just enough time to drop off your luggage at your parents’ house, greeting them quickly before your mother could yell at you for looking too thin. Ryuseong texted you where they’d be and that they’d save you a seat. 

You’re slightly late. 

You didn’t want to show up with a motorcycle helmet, so you opted for public transportation. You didn’t account for the train delay, which gave you little time to mingle once you met with Ryuseong and the parents. 

“Hi,” You politely bow, feet shuffling over the other attendees as you plop yourself on the empty seat next to Ryuseong. “Sorry I’m late. I didn’t want to take my bike.” 

Ryuseong chuckles, shaking his head as he dismisses your apology. He mentions that he’s glad you’re back before the lights dim. You couldn’t exactly get into things, but you would later on. 

The ceremony goes off without a hitch. It was quicker than you expected. Ryuseong pointed in the general direction of where Ryujin was, but you were far from her to really see her. She might’ve turned in your area a few times throughout, but you couldn’t be sure she saw you.

You hoped she didn’t. You still wanted to surprise her. 

Before you know it, it’s finished and you’re following Ryuseong out of the row to meet Ryujin. He jerks his elbow in your side as you walk, head tilting to the group of girls by you. You glance at them, which they quickly look away, one even giggles at the other. 

“Dude stop,” You mutter, rolling your eyes. “I’m not interested.”

“Just making you aware,” Ryuseong comments, “Ryujin’s not going to like the attention you’re getting.” You do a once over of your outfit choice, and there’s nothing that really calls for the attention of others. A black blazer, black shirt, and black slacks—it wasn’t anything outrageous. “You’re a chump.” He jokes, then starts to laugh when he sees you pout. 

You’re about to say something sarcastic when you’re nearly tackled by someone from the side. There’s a familiar airy giggle that has you roll your eyes again. 

“Oppa!” Yuna’s voice rings through your ears as you keep your balance. “Unnie didn’t say you were going to be here.” 

“Yuna,” You say flatly, untangling her limbs off your body. She huffs, crossing her arms as two other familiar faces appear. “Hi Yeji, Lia,” You bow, earning a smile. 

You fall into an easy conversation, telling them a bit about your time away with the promise of more details later over dinner. There was a lot to catch up on, and you didn’t want to take the limelight away from Ryujin. 

You don’t know how much time goes by, but there’s a tap on your shoulder that has you turning around. 

Your heart nearly stops. 

Ryujin still is as beautiful as you remember, if not more. 

You exchanged hundreds of messages with photos, and some videos that were for your eyes only. So seeing her for the first time in almost a year has you swooning. 

“Why are you dressed like that?” Ryujin questions, gaze going up and down before meeting yours.

“Uh? What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” The self-consciousness was creeping in. 

“Well,” She crosses her arms over her chest, “For one, you look like an actor, or an idol.” 

(Her friends nod in agreement in your periphery.) 

“I can’t stop that? This is how I look.” 

“And two, all the girls within a ten meter radius are staring at you,” She raises an eyebrow, “Are you trying to make me jealous?” 

You can’t help the corner of your lips from curling up. Not even a hello, but you didn’t mind it. She was jealous, and you felt like feeding the fire. You’ll beg for forgiveness later. 

“Is it working?” You grin as she scoffs. “Congratulations by the way.”

And just like that, the facade breaks.

Ryujin wraps her arms around you, instinctively pulling you into her. You almost hesitate because her parents are right behind her, but you don’t care. 

You missed her. 

“You’re going to regret that,” Ryujin mumbles against your chest. 

You kiss her sweetly on the top of her head, smiling, “Worth it.”

“I want to do something once we’re done with my family,” Ryujin says suddenly, head tilting up with a mirthful gleam in her eyes. 

“What?” You wanted to kiss her, but you had to draw the line somewhere with physical displays of affection with the current audience. 

“Can you give me a tattoo?” 

“Uh?” You raise an eyebrow. She hadn’t mentioned a tattoo in months, and you completely forgot she wanted one. 

“Somewhere hidden, like where only a certain someone could see.” 

“Oh? Like where?” You grin, eyes trailing down her body. 

“Maybe my hip?” Ryujin offers and the idea of her body permanently marked by you sends your mind in a tailspin. She stands on her tiptoes, lips grazing your ear, before whispering, “As a reminder.” 

“For…?” You trail off, gulping as a slim finger traces down your chest. 

“When you fuck me,” Tactfully adding, “I’m still yours.” 

Oh.

-- -- -- 

[star-sim]

"cheater!" ☆ enha hyungs

☆ non-idol! bf! enhypen hyungs x fem! reader ☆ summary: that one time you mentioned another guy's name, and he gets jealous (and he's dumb). ☆ genre: fluff, humor, dumb dumb boys, very minor angst/hurt/comfort in jay's part, cross between short scenarios and bullet points ☆ warning(s)? mentions of cheating obv, misunderstandings, ☆ not edited lolz also if ur @/archlstarvlle get off my dick again and stop plagiarizing me (and other authors bruh)

heeseung ☆

poor guy

you and him were going to a party later

and you were planning on putting ribbons in your hair

except you didn't have ribbons!

time to go to your nearest craft store: michael's.

"Baaaabe," you whined, prying Heeseung's grabby hands away from you. "I need to go."

Heeseung kept his arms wrapped around you, pressing his cheeks into your back. He threw his leg around yours, pulling you ever closer to him.

"Nooooo," he drawled, and you could feel his lips forming a little pout. You were just so warm and soft and comfortable. "Stay."

You chuckled at his childishness. You needed to go buy ribbons for later, since you ran out of them.

"Baby," you pecked his forehead, trying to shake yourself free of your clingy boyfriend. "I need to go to Michael's."

You felt Heeseung's body go frigid for a moment, before his arms loosened altogether around you, allowing you to escape his grip.

When you pulled away, while you continued to happily chirp about whatever was on your mind to your boyfriend, your words fell upon deaf ears.

Heeseung pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, chewing on it pensively.

heeseung was actually going insane

WHO IS MICHAEL??? AND WHY ARE YOU GOING TO HIM??

heeseung swears he's never heard you talk of someone named michael, let alone a friend named michael

how could you drop the name of some OTHER MAN so casually???

and the nail in the coffin was what you said next

"Michael's has some pretty cool things," you chatted, your back turned to your boyfriend as you fixed your lip gloss. "So, let me know if you need anything from there.

michael... cool... things....

if heeseung wasn't already fighting for his life, he was now fighting a million wars at once.

you told heeseung that he was cool and handsome and cute and all the words in the dictionary all the time.... and you made sure to let him know that your words were exclusive to him

so for you to say that SOME RANDOM DUDE NAMED MICHAEL WAS COOL?????

"I don't think you've ever been to Michael's, so I think—"

Heeseung abruptly stood up from the bed that he was lying in, in such a sudden and dramatic way that you snapped your head over to him, as he was quite loud with it.

There your tall boyfriend stood, completely still, with a deep frown on his face.

"Babe, are you okay—"

"I'm going with you," Heeseung announced, his voice filled with such a passion and vigor that it nearly shook. He looked so indignant and solemn, you almost felt worried. With finger air-quotes, he said with a subtle eye-roll, "I will go with you to this 'Michaels.' "

You blinked at him obliviously, before a smile grew on your face. You didn't know that Heeseung was so curious about the local craft store called Michael's, but you were not going to question it.

"Okay!"

heeseung was just WAITING

he let you take the wheel and while he sat in your passenger's seat he was rubbing his knuckles, WAITING TO THROW A FIST AT THIS MICHAEL GUY

would a black eye suffice? or maybe a broken nose....

he glanced over at you

you were just humming to yourself to the music (you let heeseung take the aux)

sure you looked so cute and innocent right now... BUT HOW??? HOW COULD YOU BE SO CASUAL ABT IT???

heeseung was expecting for you to pull up to a neighborhood, or an apartment complex, ready to feel his entire world crash down before his feet as some guy named michael emerged from the doorway

his heart plummeted at the thought of this 'michael' pulling you in for a hug, with you greeting him back brightly

no!!!! he couldn't let michael win!!!

you were his!!

.

.

.

except, you simply pulled up to a parking lot

to a massive store, with white walls and a giant brown sign

reading

michael's craft store

Heeseung flopped over in relief.

"Hee...!"

jay ☆

i think at this point in time you and jay aren't DATING dating, but definitely an exclusive pair that's BASICALLY dating

all your friends know about him and you report to them daily about him (theyre tired)

except

before you and jay became an actual pair

you used to call him a code name with your friends

the code name in question?

hamilton

named after your friend's hamilton beach flexcut cordless can opener, aka the first thing that you saw when you were coming up with a code name

Your heart was pounding in your chest.

Today, you and Jay decided to have a study session in the library. Although you knew that he'd be true to his word and would actually help you study, you hoped that the two of you could do something more.

Maybe he'd put his hand on your thigh, or maybe you'd have the opportunity to cut him off with a kiss. Just the thought made your stomach do flips.

As you waited at the library table, with your heart in your hands, your phone rang. It was your friends. Noticing the dirty looks for such an obnoxious ringtone, you stepped out the library to take the call.

meanwhile jay was pretty much shaking with each step he took to the campus library

an entire two hours with you? you, who needed his help really badly? you, who he wanted to kiss so badly? yes please!!!

boy was he excited

but as he rounded the corner to the library.............

he spotted you..... on the phone with someone.....

"Hamilton is so handsome!" he heard you squeal into your phone, and Jay's heart stopped. "I hope Hamilton comes soon, so that I can kiss him."

ham...il...ton

who is that....

jay knew that you and him weren't officially dating but he didn't expect you to do him dirty like that :(

as you continuted to giggle and coo about this hamilton guy, jay couldn't help but feel his heart ache

he really thought you were the one :(

except he was so caught up in his thoughts that jay tripped over his feet, making you whip your head around to him

Your expression was horrified, which only only confirmed his worst fears. Still, you stepped toward him, your face painted with embarrassment.

"Oh, hi Jay," you said bashfully, unable to meet his gaze.

Jay, even when he was hurt, didn't have it in him to be rude to you. He wanted to run away (and cry), but the way you gave him a small, sheepish grin made his heart flutter.

He planned to sit through this session, and excuse himself after 30 minutes. Keep the relationship civil, he thought.

on your end

you were mortified!!!

did jay just hear you talk about him to your friends?

although you had a code name for him, it wasn't like what you said was completely discreet

you dropped pretty obvious context clues that pointed to who hamilton was

things like "i love hamilton's heart-shaped birthmark on his neck, do you think he'll let me touch it?" and "i hope hamilton takes me out on a date after today's study session"

you were embarrassed

and it didn't help that jay was being quieter than usual... did he think you were weird?

but to jay, that embarrassment translated as the shame of being caught

the entire study session thus far, you didn't even meet his gaze, always looking away

Jay was hurt. Really hurt.

By the way you were acting, he was hoping for an apology, or some quick explanation, even if it was short and half-assed. At least you could've tried. But you said nothing.

Jay himself had questions that he wanted to be answered: how long has this been going on, if you were lying when you told him that you loved him, etc.

His lips moved faster than his mind could catch.

"So, who's Hamilton?" he blurted.

shit shit shit

he KNOWS RIGHT?

HE KNOWS THAT HE'S HAMILTON

RIGHT???????

you felt your neck and cheeks heating up

and by the way he looked solemn, you were sure he was mad at you

You froze, before all of your words spilled out of your mouth.

"Oh my god, Jay, I'm so sorry. You must be feeling so creeped out and disgusted with me and—"

from your body language to the panic in your expression

jay thought that his suspicions were confirmed

the moment that you began speaking he was ready to break down sobbing

but your next words made him stop

"— And I know that you think I'm weird for using a code name as stupid as 'Hamilton' for you, and I'm so sorry for that, but—"

wait a minute............

code name

hamilton

for him

.

.

.

"Wait, I'm Hamilton?!" Jay cut you off, his face pinching.

You let out a weird sound, an awkward expression spreading across your features.

"I-I mean, yeah..." you hid your face in your hands, "Ughhhh, I'm so sorry, that's so weir— Jay?!"

Jay was slumped over the table in relief, his face buried in his arms. He let out a loud groan, before lifting his head to look up at you. You couldn't help but notice the little glassy sheen in his eyes, almost like he was going to cry.

"Jay..."

He quickly wiped the little tears forming in his eyes away, sniffling before sitting up completely, averting his gaze from you.

"It's nothing," he murmured.

He was relieved. No, beyond relieved. He was ecstatic that this entire time you were talking about him. He couldn't believe that he would think of you in such a poor light.

He kept his eyes away from you, too shy and embarrassed to look you in the eye.

You poked him, and he didn't respond, so you poked him again.

"Jay."

"Hm?"

"Do you think I'm weird?"

He snapped his head over to you.

"What? No, of course not!"

You frowned. "Then why aren't you talking to me?"

Jay sucked in a sharp breath. "It's nothing."

He finally met your gaze, his lips helplessly cracking into a grin just as the sight of you perplexed expression.

He clutched your chin, tilting it so that you would look at him. He leaned in to give your lips a peck.

"I promise, it's nothing, Baby."

You leaned into him, giving him a peck, too.

"Okay," you nodded, biting back the giddy, lovesick grin that fought its way onto your face.

jake ☆

one day youre hanging out w your friends

and ygs go to a dog cafe

so cute!!

and theres this one dog that's just practically CALLING FOR YOU

he's just this little maltese named enzo and he's so cute

the two of you cuddling on the floor, giving him good head rubs and laughing as he licks you

you love enzo the maltese!

anyways so you take pictures ofc and post it to your private instagram

Jake narrowed his eyes at his phone.

He was deep.

Deep in the goddamn trenches.

He was excited to see the cute pictures you took of your day out with your friends. When you said that you were going to a dog cafe, Jake was so ready to use a picture of you and a pup (two of his favorite things) as his new phone wallpaper.

But that wasn't going to happen.

Because all of a sudden, his Wi-Fi decided to be poor all of a sudden.

Although he got the notification that you posted something new on Instagram, when he checked your account, none of you pictures loaded. All he could see was a black loading square, and the caption to the post.

at first jake was like

"its ok i can wait" even though he REALLLLYYY wanted to see your pictures

he couldn't see any of the pictures you posted, but he could still see the caption

and that's what caught his eye

you liked to have an individual explanation for each picture in the post, so your caption read as follows:

pic 1: me and enzo

pic 2: enzo kissing me

pic 3: holding enzo's hand

pic 4: enzo and me cuddling

and that's when jake stopped reading

Jake was going to start losing hair, because who was Enzo? And why was he kissing you? And cuddling with you?

He'd never heard of an Enzo. Poor guy, Jake kept refreshing your account in the hopes that your pictures would load, so that he could see this Enzo guy face-to-face. But that didn't happen.

It didn't help that your Instagram notes read, "enzo &lt;3."

seriously

WHO IS ENZO

jake paced back and forth around his apartment, trying to scroll back in his memory for anyone named enzo

but alas

no one

all he knew was that whoever enzo was, he was about to get a broken jaw

a little frown formed on his face, as he rubbed his knuckles

were you going to leave him from this enzo person?

was enzo better than him?

how come jake never heard of an enzo before?

Jake's head perked up the moment his apartment door cracked open, revealing you. He rushed straight to you, expecting to hear you say, "I'm breaking up with you for another man named Enzo," completely taken aback when you simply threw your arms around him.

"Hi, Jakey!" you simply exclaimed, holding him tight.

Jake stood still, eyeing you for a moment.

Were you not going to break up with him on the spot?

The next thing he knew, Jake was pulled into his room, thrown on his bed, and cuddled up against you.

"I'm so tired," you breathe, snuggling your face against his chest. "I couldn't wait to get home to you."

Jake blinked.

"T-Tell me about your day," he gulped.

and you happily did so

animately, you told all about your day

what foods you tried, what you and your friends did, how much fun you had

you even told him about a cute little maltese that you couldn't remember the name of at the dog cafe...

and at last

no mention of enzo

"How's Enzo?"

Jake didn't know why he asked that, but when he did, you perked up.

"Oh!" you clapped your hands. "That's his name!"

"Wh-Who's name?"

You laughed. "The maltese at the dog cafe! His name was Enzo— He was just the cutest little thing!"

Enzo is a... dog?

Jake suddenly hoisted the two of you up, so that you were laying flat on your back. He plopped his face onto your chest, putting your hand in his hair.

"I don't like Enzo," Jake murmured against your chest. You chuckled, playing with his hair slowly.

"You didn't like the pictures of me and Enzo?"

"No," Jake shook his head, his hair cutely bouncing with each movement. "I don't like a dog trying to take my girl."

You laughed, calling your boyfriend silly, but completely oblivious to the fact that Jake was now making plans to go to that dog cafe to have a man-to-man talk with a dog.

sunghoon ☆

a man of a few words, gotta love it

this is very niche but you have a habit of making very obscure and dumb and completely nonsensical nicknames for people

like jake becomes jacobsongerald and jay becomes jameslynner the third

one day you and sunghoon are just having a lazy day

It's a quiet morning. Slivers of sunlight are peeking from the kitchen blinds, while birds chirp their hearts out outside.

While you look through the fridge, Sunghoon sits at the kitchen table, notepad and pen in hand.

"Do we need eggs?" he asked.

You glanced down at the egg compartment. "No, but I think we're running out of butter soon."

Sunghoon nodded, jotting down 'butter' on the notepad.

Every week or so, you and Sunghoon liked to have a morning like this, where you went over your grocery list.

sunghoon loved mornings like this

seeing you in your cute pajamas, your raspy morning voice bouncing off the walls as you listed to him what the two of you needed to buy for the week

the way the sunlight bounced off of you just made you look so ethereal, in your early morning glory

"Sungerson, can you write down milk?"

Sunghoon's face contorted immediately.

pardon....

WHO???

sunghoon couldn't tell if he was appalled because you just called him the WRONG NAME or because 'sungerson' is actually such a ridiculous name

WHO IS SUNGERSON THAT'S SO STUPID OMG

wait a minute....

sunghoon's heard horror stories like this before

where if your significant other accidentally calls you by another name, it's a sign that they're seeing someone else

"Oh, and can you add canola oil to the list?" you asked, not really checking to see if he was writing it down due to your trust in him. But when you didn't hear any pen scribbles, you turned over your shoulder. "Sunghoon?"

see?

you called him sunghoon just then

and this entire morning you'd called him sunghoon

but then you call him a different name out of no where and act like nothing happened

you weren't seeing someone else... right?

like...... you wouldn't do that to him

the way you acted like nothing happened made sunghoon think that you probably didn't notice your slip-up

"Sungerson?"

You looked confused, your brows furrowing. "What?"

Sunghoon looked up to meet your gaze. "You called me Sungerson. Who is that?"

"Oh." You shrugged. "It's just one of those dumb nicknames that I make up for people."

"Okay."

that made sense

completely

he shouldn't have doubted you

"Sunghoon, what are you pouting about?"

okay, so maybe the thought of you with someone else made him upset

even if you weren't

and reassured him that you weren't

You huffed, shutting the fridge door before coming over to wear Sunghoon sat at the kitchen table. You grabbed his head, leaning down to give his forehead a kiss.

Sunghoon whined, taking your arm as you pulled away from him. He leaned back in his seat, patting his lap for you to sit. When you did, Sunghoon immediately pushed his face into the crook of your neck, whining again.

"What is it, you big baby?"

"You're mine, right?"

You blinked. It wasn't every day that Sunghoon was clingy like this.

You chuckled, flicking his forehead.

"Of course," you said.

"Okay," Sunghoon let his eyelids fall shut, taking a deep breath before sinking into your warmth. "That's good."

[bitten-fruit]

you re-enlist

And Captain John Price absolutely doesn't want you to. He begrudgingly takes you to his office to sign the paperwork - and shows you what your decision has brought you.

18+ MDNI - 5k words

tags: John Price x f!Reader, power play, oral and vaginal sex

a/n: To get some content on here I've pulled this from my longfic Licking Wounds on Ao3. Trimmed/tweaked it a little to make them tumblr friendly :)

“Just... let me sign what I need to.” You breathed, exasperated.

Captain Price sat behind his desk, leaning back insouciantly in his chair, bouncing his knee in irritation. His cautious and tired eyes flitted between yours, considering his words before he spoke.

“This is your last chance to change your mind.” He grunted.

You sucked your teeth frustration. “I’m not changing my mind.”

“You should.”

“Why? Will my presence really be that fucking draining for you?”

He quickly absorbed your sudden anger, mirroring it as he stood from his chair, leaning against the surface of his desk on white knuckles.

“You know that’s not what this is about.”

His tone was by turn seething and pleading, glowering at you with gruelling severity.

You scoffed. “Oh, so it would be.”

“For fuck’s sake, don’t be childish.”

“Childish?”

Evidently fed up with your petulant bickering, his head dropped from his shoulders as he grunted in frustration. “I just... I can’t understand why you’d come back to this.”

“You can’t?”

“You had the chance to get away from it. You got out.”

“Got out. You think I got out, do you? That once I got shipped back to London I was done with it all?” You groaned, impatient. “Just let me sign the goddamn paper."

There was visible dispute burgeoning behind his lips, but he stayed silent – leaning forward to tug open one of the drawers of his desk. He pulled out a pad of blank paper forms, hesitantly but methodically tearing one sheet free along the perforated line. He flipped it, placing it down on the wooden surface and twisting it so it faced you, pushing it towards the edge in your direction with his fingertips.

He plucked a ballpoint pen from the steel mesh cup on the edge of the desk, before dropping it on top of the paper form with a quiet clack.

Crossing his arms, he stood upright with a huff and watched you scrutinisingly; glare challenging yet reluctant.

You quietly swallowed, stepping abashedly towards the desk and leaning over it, holding the pen between your fingers and pensively clicking the end of it with your thumb.

Jaded eyes scanned each word, the tip of the pen trailing each line as you read. You checked box after box, writing down the answers to probing questions as though you were completing an exam under the shrewdly watchful eye of your professor. Existing health conditions, current medication, family lineage, previous rank, promotable status. It would almost be nostalgic, answering questions such as these again, for the first time since you were promoted to sergeant four years ago – if it didn’t carry such painful weight, and weren’t so rife with sordid history.

The nib of your pen met that dotted line, finally, at the bottom of the form. Your eyes looked at the conditions and implications of your signature, that thick paragraph above the box, though not a single word was absorbed by your busy mind. It didn’t matter – you knew the consequences of that pen meeting the paper. Even if the Captain wished it, signing your life back into the hands of the SAS was not something that could be easily revoked.

He seemed to relish hopefully in your hesitation, his breath slowing as he watched you consider, pen hovering cautiously over the paper.

You briefly glanced up at him, from under your challenging eyebrows, meeting his eye. His stiff gaze wordlessly pleaded with you, his mouth in an austere line.

Steadfast, you ignored his silent dispute.

You signed the dotted line.

There.

Done.

No backing out now.

A soldier again.

You were astonished at the adrenaline a mere signature could pump from your heart, quivering with it, as you dropped the pen to the desk and stood upright.

His steely eyes did not leave you, face replete with a medley of discernible emotions; ire, anxiety, remorse, solemnity. Arms still crossed firmly over his chest, you listened as his heaving lungs drew in a deep, exasperated breath.

He licked his teeth before he spoke.

“That’ll be all then, Sergeant.”

He dismissed you bluntly, coarse voice dripping with derision. A crease formed in your forehead, taken aback by his sudden dismissal, breath hitching at his use of your rank instead of your name; sergeant, a title he hadn’t referred to you by in two years.

It was as though he was satisfied, doing his best to show you what your decision had brought you, to make you regret it. You were his subordinate again. Just his sergeant.

“I knew you’d enjoy it in the end, Captain.” You seethed, tone draped in sardonicism, an immediate retaliation.

His brow furrowed as he looked down his nose at you. “Enjoy what, eh?”

“You finally get to order me around again, don’t you?”

“You-”

“Am I dismissed? Or are you going to command me to drop and give you fifty?” You growled pettishly, scowling up at him. “It must’ve been hard, not being able to command me to do your bidding while I was a civilian. But that didn’t stop you from trying, did it?”

He grunted, an increasingly enraged sigh escaping his chest. “I didn’t want to be giving you orders again.”

“Bullshit.”

“No, I didn’t. Just because you don’t know what to do with yourself when you’re not being commanded to do it, doesn’t mean I’ve been waiting for the chance to.”

A kick to the stomach, you worried you’d lose your balance with the blow.

Grimacing at him, you stepped your weight onto your back foot in reaction to his venomous accusation.

“Fuck you.”

You hissed it through your teeth, unable to conjure up any intelligent rebuttal, only lashing out with the reprisal that your frenetic emotions scrambled together.

He sniffed irately, adjusting his arms over his chest.

“Can’t talk to your captain that way, Sergeant.”

Your jaw hung loose in disbelief, overcome with a cold rage that made your body quake as it flooded your arteries.

“Fuck you,” you repeated wryly, daring. “Are you going to order me not to talk back to you, sir? You prick?”

He glared at you with challenging contempt.

“You want me to give you an order, do you?”

“I want you to get off your fucking high horse.”

“Yeah? Am I too honourable?”

“Honourable? You’re a sanctimonious p–”

He put his hands on his hips, brashly sucking his teeth before he interrupted you.

“Take off your shirt.”

His hoarse command pierced the thick air like a bullet.  

The wind was viciously sucked from your lungs, then, your racing heart jolted under your ribs with such voltage it felt as though you had been shocked by a defibrillator. You could only stare at him, stupid, waiting for him to relent, to take it back, to say that he was kidding.

His expression, now, was unreadable. You weren’t certain whether he was purposefully keeping his countenance devoid of emotion – or, if, you had abruptly lost any and all ability to understand him or his intentions.

He was a stranger, but a familiar one. A captivating one.

Before you could stammer out a semblance of a response, he continued.

“That’s the sort of order you’ve been wanting from me, isn’t it?” He goaded darkly, seemingly smug at his ability to render you flustered and wordless with one short sentence.

Dumbstruck, still, you could only swallow a pointed breath as you desperately tried to read any clear objective in his shrouded blue eyes.

“Go on.”

He’s not kidding.

“You wanted an order, I gave you one.”

Fuck.

You were completely staggered by the whiplash. Your distended heart thumped so vigorously in your chest you thought it might crack a rib.

There was a conviction within you, somewhere, to question him. To question if he was being serious, to ask him if this was some kind of sick joke to make you regret your decision.

And while you believed that was the case, that it was a derisive retribution, a game to get back at you – there was a stronger urge to play along. To meet his challenge, to execute his dare.

Meeting his indignant gaze with yours, you tucked your fingers under the hem that sat between your waist and hips, peeling it up your torso and stretching it over your shoulders, then past your head. Sweeping your loosened hair out of your face, you held the thin black fabric in the other hand before dropping it to the linoleum floor. You shivered a little in the cool air of the room, your stiffening nipples concealed by the cups of your rarely-worn grey marl brassiere – practical and unsexy.

But the look on his face was telling; he hadn’t truly expected you to comply.

That surprise waned quickly. His dark eyes tried their best to hold your stare, but they failed him – raking over your torso, jaw clenching as his gaze stuck brazenly to your exposed cleavage.

Trembling with adrenaline, you waited for him to say something. Anything.

You expected dispute; you anticipated he’d say, I wasn’t serious. And that would be a satisfying reaction – your effort to make him uncomfortable would prove a success, a victory, you’d have the last figurative word.

He wiped down his face with an open hand, rubbing his beard anxiously as he wrestled with what to say, how to react – maybe some attempt to restrain himself. He leaned against the surface of the desk, resting his weight on his knuckles.

Through gritted teeth, he uttered his next command.

“Bra.”

You swallowed timorously.

It was surreal, really, you worried you were hallucinating – you imagined that in reality he was shouting at you to stop, but you were unable to hear him over your carnal psychosis.

But it was too late now, to stop yourself. You were driven to finish what you started. Changing your mind now, pulling your shirt back over your head and running out the door – would leave you questioning whether any of it was real. You wouldn’t survive in that oblivion, between reality and dream, fact and fantasy.

You needed proof.

You reached behind your back, contorting your shoulders to allow your fingers to grip the clasp against your spine. Your breasts pillowed out of the top of the soft cups as you stretched the band to unhook it, before slipping the straps down your shoulders. It slid from your chest, down your arms, gently – it, too, fell to the floor; you dropped it on top of your abandoned t-shirt.

You drew in a quivering breath, the skin of your breasts tingling as the goosebumps elicited by their exposure trickled across their soft flesh.

He sucked in a heavy breath, deep and slow, rugged and rasping. He took a step, and you retracted slightly; but you watched like cautious prey, as he walked around from the far side of his desk, to the front of it. He leaned on the very edge of the surface, not quite sitting on it, as he insouciantly crossed one boot over the other. His lascivious eyes did not leave you, absorbing every feature, every curve, like he was admiring an artwork.

Despite the metre and a bit of distance from him, you felt the dense heat that hung in the air between the two of you, radiating from him like he was a fucking oven.

“Trousers.”

A brief conflict almost escaped you, but he quickly smothered it.

“Off.”

Whatever reluctance that lingered melted away, then, dripping off of you like a layer of sticky ice cream – by virtue of the unwavering sternness of his command. And that, you realised, was where your comfort lay; where there was no ambiguity, no remorse for a poorly made decision, no culpability for your actions. If you were following an order, the onus was on him.

So you followed it.

Your kittenish fingers went to the button of your grey cargo trousers, popping it undone, slyly pulling down the zip of your fly. You flayed back the open waistband, pushing them down your hips, struggling briefly to pull them past your ass; its recent plumpness made your pants a touch too small. The polyester fabric loudly shuffled in the distended silence as the trousers fell down your legs, into a puddle at your feet; you stepped out of them as though out of a pond.

By the time you looked up to meet his gaze once again, though, he had already charged at you; quickly taking the base of your head with large hands and pulling you towards him. He forced his eager lips against yours with a ferocity that left you breathless, such an aggression that your first primal instinct was to resist him with claws against his chest.

But you were quick to surrender to him, relishing in the taste of him, his tongue, his breath hot in your mouth, you sucked it deep into your chest. Your starving hands coiled up and around his neck, scratching at the tense muscles in his heaving back through the fabric of his uniform jersey; hooking into him in some feline effort to make sure he was real, to prevent his escape, to keep him from being stolen away.

His mouth wasn’t on yours for long, though, dragging wetly across your jaw to your neck, the crook of your shoulder; he chewed at your soft, fervid skin, teeth skimming and barely digging into the tendonous flesh. His vicious hands gave you no reprieve, clutching at any part of you that could force you closer, tighter against him – ensnaring the meat of your hips, your waist, kneading at your sensitive breast with the other.

He separated from you only briefly, though his possessive hands didn’t leave you. Crouching slightly, he hooked his arms behind your thighs, under your ass – deftly hoisting you upwards with no visible effort. You clutched the back of his neck, wrapping your legs around his hips to maintain your balance as he lifted you, turning on his heel and carting you towards the desk. He quickly used a free hand to sweep aside the papers, flinging them to the floor in a confetti; he put you down hastily, keeping you close, the cold surface of the varnished wood biting at your bare skin.

He gave you a transitory respite, carefully checking your face before he went any further; likely ensuring you weren’t crying this time, that he hadn’t crossed an unspoken boundary. Whatever look you gave him in return was outside of your control or perception – but it was an invitation, evidently.

He dove down to kiss you again, but fleetingly – his savage lips trailed down from yours, biting their way along your jaw, down your neck, across your collarbone. You leaned back slightly on the desk to allow his avid venture, his ravenous mouth biting and suckling wherever it landed; drowning momentarily in the softness of your breast, cupping it with his wide hand to push the pillowy flesh against his face.

That wasn’t his final destination, though. His mouth only brushed over your nipple, sloppily kissing down your tensing stomach as he lowered himself to one knee, clutching your waist with both hands on his journey downward to hold you still. You felt your heart in your throat, in utter disbelief; you could only suck down jagged breaths as his lips grazed against your lower belly, just above your hip, teasing the elastic hem of your underwear. He gingerly kissed your mound through the thin cotton, controlling hands holding your hips by the bone.

Too rapacious to taunt you for long, he tugged sharply at the hips of your panties, leaning back so he could pull them down your thighs, over your knees, off your ankles. Your foot rested gently on his collarbone as he paused in apparent admiration, your exposed, spread pussy mere inches from his face; his breath despite its heat was cold against your wet, feverish skin. You felt embarrassed at his close inspection, his unashamed reverence – but his murky gaze broke away from your intimacy, instead meeting your eye. He wore an expression of unassailable pride, though cloaked in an avaricious hunger; he stared at you cruelly from under his brow, daring you to deny him.

Hitching your legs over his arms so that they rested on his shoulders, he clutched the side of your thigh with his mammoth hand while he pushed his lips into the inside of your leg, high enough, close enough, to make you quiver in desperate anticipation.

Piercing eyes still locked on yours, peering up from your eager flesh, his husky voice murmured deeply into your skin.

“Is this what you wanted?”

He jibed, almost a growl, as though teasing you for your recent behaviour – scolding you for acting out instead of asking for it, causing a scene instead of using your words like a grown-up.

Another kiss, higher, closer, teeth grazing the supple meat of your inner thigh, coarse beard prickling against the burning skin of the edge of your cunt.

You couldn’t think of the right answer, if there were such a thing, to his question – your head was by turn empty and running a million miles a minute. Really, you didn’t even know the answer.

Was it what you wanted?  This entire time? Has it been what you wanted since the last time, in his barrack in Urzikstan? Since the gala? Or, even, since you met him?

Your answer left your wet throat before you had the sense to question it, or rationalise it.

“Yes.”

You breathed, a whisper, barely, almost a squeak. You weren’t certain that it was the truth, either – but it was what you wanted now, so it was honest in some sense.

With firm hands he adeptly tugged your hips so you perched precariously on the very edge of the desk, allowing him ease of access to you.

He cruelly denied you still, placing maliciously soft kisses against the slit of your pussy, torturing you with only a light pressure while you willed him to dive deeper. An ardent whimper fled your chest, quiet and pleading.

Whatever carnivore he was doing his level best to restrain escaped its prison at your sheepish sound; his monstrous hands dug deep into the flesh of your hips, maw lunging forward and pointed tongue parting your slick folds like he was searching for water. It dipped into you only briefly, a momentary taste of the dripping syrup he seemed to take pride in inducing from you – before he used it to glide up to your clit where it was nestled. With ravenous lips he suctioned it into his mouth, devouring you; dextrously chafing your sensitive bud with a flat tongue, maintaining a vacuum that made a dangerously loud and needy moan escape your throat.

He only hastened his torment in response, drinking you like he might die of thirst, breathing heavily through his nose so as not to allow you even a second of relief from the unbearable suction. Feverish claws clasped at the top of his head, running through his short hair and scratching at his scalp, holding his head where you wanted it. Your head hung back off your shoulders, briefly staring at the panelled ceiling before your eyes unwittingly fluttered shut, doing your best to swallow the choked cries that threatened to make the whole army base aware of your depravity.

Your constricting legs inadvertently tried to push him away, your body overwhelmed and desperate for a break from his ruthless consumption, almost too oversensitive to be pleasurable – but not quite. He restrained you tightly, though, not allowing you to flee from him for even a second; his firm hands controlled your hips with an alarming strength, head moving with you as though predicting the direction of your attempts at escape, mouth not separating from you once.

One hand retreated from your side, but to quickly prevent your bucking his constraining arm slithered over your lower stomach, clutching the far hip and using his elbow to hold you down to the desk. His free thumb, then, crept to your cunt under his chin. Despite how slick your skin was, drenched in both your clear sap and his saliva; the clenching muscles of your vagina were squeezed so tightly he had to push his thumb into you with effort, almost popping as it broke past your resistant entrance.

That seemed to weaken his resolve, the tightness of your muscles clamping around him rhythmically, in tune with the burgeoning, forcible orgasm that threatened to crash over you like a tidal wave; he released a ragged, resigned exhalation into your skin. You felt yourself beginning to drown in it, that swirling ocean. The floor, the desk, the room sunk in it, slipping away from you as your eyes rolled into the back of your head, only him keeping you afloat.

But he stopped, then, thumb begrudgingly slipping out from inside you, suddenly releasing his merciless suction and separating his wet mouth from your yearning pussy. You groaned in dispute, cut short, a sharp rush of air escaping your overwrought lungs.

“Not yet.” He grunted hoarsely, barely audible.

Brows twisted in pleading frustration, you looked down at him, meeting his frightening glare as he pushed himself to stand; beard glistening with the wetness of you, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“What?” You whined breathily, panting as you watched him tower upright, looming over you in licentious authority.

“I’m not having you come yet.”

His injunction was authoritarian, uttered darkly, his rumbling voice so hoarse it sounded animalistic; a growl, a threat. He stood between your legs, still, you watched in quiet, anticipating obedience as his livid hands tore at his belt. Ferociously unbuckling it, as though it would fight against him – he tugged open the button of his trousers, ripping down the fly and unsheathing his rigid cock from his straining boxers; menacing, it dropped heavy out of the elastic waistband, the solid shaft landing against your ravening cunt with a hard, wet slap.

You winced slightly at the sore impact, and his humanity seemed to return to him momentarily; softening face inches from yours, his attentive blue eyes scanned your features for reluctance.

“Tell me no.” He urged throatily, “tell me no, and I’ll stop.”

A shaky breath seeped through your lips, your delirious gaze flitting between his eyes, lashes fluttering as you processed his promise.

“I don’t want you to stop, Captain.” You uttered weakly, entreating.

His careful eyes darkened quickly at your bashful plea, watching your lips form the syllables of his rank like you were stroking him with it. His dominant hands returned to your hips, then, clutching at the bone and lifting your pelvis so it was angled right, just where he wanted it.

His clouded glare didn’t leave yours, his fingers dipping into your saturated pussy as though scooping the viscous fluid that dribbled from you; you watched, beguiled, as he rubbed your juices up the thick shaft of his cock, coating the head in it, briefly unable to stop himself from fucking his fist, huffing carnally, while he was lubricated by your watery come.

With a tug of your legs that were coiled around his hips, you grounded him, impatient; his sinister gaze met yours again, watching your wanton expression as he obliged you and dragged the soft head of his cock down your slit, the cruel pressure against your agitated clit making your body twitch. He restrained your spasm with his free hand your waist, keeping your pelvis still, as the tip of his length nestled between your lips, pressing against your clenching entrance.

Gripping himself by the stiff base, he pushed past your tight opening with his full weight; stretching it tautly around the girth of his cock as he stuffed you with it. You let out a pained squeak as it abruptly filled you, ramming against your cervix with a pressure that made you flinch.

The sharp soreness briefly frightened you – you had been deprived of the sensation of that angry thickness inside of you, ever since…

You didn’t let your mind go back there, not for a second; your eyelids shot open, desperate gaze sticking hurriedly to your Captain, his riled and yet gentle expression bringing you back to him, rugged but soft hands holding your hips as he impaled you on the length of him. You clutched the fabric of his jersey tight over his chest, gripping his arms, his shoulders; keeping him real, corporeal, there with you. He let out a strained grunt as he pulled you down onto him, as deep as your insides would allow him to go, to the hilt; he held you there, forcing you to squirm.

Your delicate hands held his warm neck, leaning forward as you pulled his head down to kiss him; mouth open and tongue desperate to taste him again, to feel his hot breath against your face, the soft scratch of his beard on your chin. He returned your kiss, tender, compassionate – a stark juxtaposition to his ruthless incursion; rutting into you powerfully but methodically, slow but hard, deep enough to be painful.

But the hurt was translated by your aroused nerves into a bestial pleasure, using your goading legs to pull him further into you, you felt his cock push against your aching organs. It raked against your sodden walls on its way out, a slight sting as it dragged along your taut opening – before filled you again, abrupt, sharp; it forced a sweet cry from your fevered chest into his mouth. He grinned arrogantly against your lips, a ragged, breathy chuckle taunted you in response.

You separated from him, then, lying back over the surface of the desk; you arched your back, angling your hips so that his length beat your walls more viciously, wrapping your legs around his waist and clutching at the edge of the desk above your head with straining claws. Exposed to him now, on display, his thrusting only increased in vehemence, speed, depth; carnivorous hands digging into the meat of your hips as if you might slip away from him, forcing you down on him with each rut.  

Eager for release, your fingers glided down your stomach, navigating diffidently to your clit; you drew wet circles over it, letting out a soft whine as you pleasured yourself with the rhythm of his accelerating thrusts.

“Shit.”

He groaned huskily at the sight of you fucking yourself on his cock, his face twisted into an exasperated rapture, forcing himself to slow down slightly so as not to push himself over the edge too quickly.        

He stopped you, hastily; a stern hand tightly ensnaring your wrist and tearing your fingers from you. He pulled your arm upward, pinning it firmly to the wooden surface underneath you, holding your hand by your head. He leaned over you, then, making you watch as he held his free hand to his lips, spitting lecherously into his fingertips; they found your clit without needing to look, stroking the oversensitive spot inexorably, the pressure cruel and unrelenting. His head hung from his shoulders, mouth landing against the hot skin of your shoulder, placing gentle kisses along your collarbone as he ruined you.

The union of the two sensations – his cock, hard as stone, fucking into your stomach, and merciless fingertips tormenting your swollen clit; it surged within you, frayed nerves electrocuting you as your inevitable orgasm loomed, its delay rendering it incensed and sorely overpowering.

He must have felt the muscles of your walls clamping down on the length of him as it dawned on you, the change in the music of your sounds; aching whines growing louder, crawling from your labouring throat.

“You gonna come on me, are ya? Beautiful thing?”

He growled into your skin, only increasing the severity of his torture, relentless in his goal to finish you.

Your delirious tongue was unable to form a word in response, only releasing a high-pitched and arduous cry as your unforgiving orgasm collided with you, waves of carnal heat pulsing from the base of you, the muscles of your bullied pussy clenching tightly around his avid cock.

“That’s it.”

He grinned against your neck as he kissed you there, moving with you, allowing no escape.

“Good girl.”

With no apparent intention of slowing down to offer you a reprieve, he instead began speeding up, forcing you to squirm and shriek in dispute at the overstimulation. Your desperate, animal fingers clawed at his wrist, struggling to tear his stiff hand away from your cunt – but he relented, eventually, falling victim to his own pleasure as he shifted his focus to fucking you harder, deeper.

He scooped an arm under your back, lifting you just slightly from the surface of the desk as he hovered over you; the other hand holding the bone of your hip tightly, keeping it steady while he rammed you. You listened in rapture to his grunts of ecstasy, gentle hands clutching the back of his neck, nails grazing his hot skin as you coaxed him to chase his own release.

You pressed soft lips into his bearded cheek, comforting, reassuring him; and that seemed to do the trick, bringing him too close.

“Fuck.”

He groaned hoarsely in begrudging pleasure as he paused, for just a hesitant second, before reluctantly tugging his cock out of you and slamming the wet shaft of it it against your mound.

You panted heavily, holding your forehead against his, relishing in the sensation of his hot come shooting over your stomach, painting you; it dribbled down your sides, down the creases of your hips, dangerously close to your cunt. He winced against you, twitching involuntarily as he pushed the last of his semen out of the head, drooling onto your febrile skin.

You kissed him, again; he tenderly pressed his lips against yours in return as he took the moment to catch his breath. His mouth left yours after a moment and landed in the crook of your neck, his heaving body hung over you, propped up by his elbows on the desk under you. You felt him kiss under your ear, his warm breath and prickling beard sending a shiver down the nape of your neck.

You wanted to say something, anything – but there were no words you could think of to offer him. Gratitude? An apology? Your brain was fried, fucked into pliable mush.

Instead you lay in silence, embracing him for as long as it would last, doing your best not to consider the consequences that lay ahead of you as a result of such an unbelievably foolish lapse in judgement.

He’d been your captain for only a few minutes, and you had fucked him already.

And yet you wished the moment could last infinitely; savouring his gentle lips as they planted drowsy kisses on your neck, tired hands caressing your waist in what felt like wordless praise, a silent gratitude.

Despite the reservations, the guilt, the doubts that stormed around you, deafening; your thoughts encircled only one thing, one source of comfort.

He was your Captain again.

[connorsui]

More than just a Brat

Rafayel x reader

Synopsis: In a rare moment of vulnerability, Rafayel drops his bratty facade and leans on you for comfort, revealing the softer side he usually keeps hidden.

Genre/warnings: fluff, Hurt/Comfort, rafayels ego, his attitude, being mean half of the time, warnings? ..nah just rafayel

Note: just got done doing rafayels route and he's such a comedic man ...I love him

w.c: 1,232

Rafayel leaned against the ornate balcony railing, arms crossed as the evening breeze stirred his lavender hair. The garden below shimmered in the moonlight, casting long shadows across the cobblestone path. You stood nearby, fiddling with your bracelet, pretending not to notice how his blue eyes, tinged with pink undertones, kept darting toward you.

“You’ll break it if you keep messing with it like that,” he muttered, voice tinged with mock annoyance. His signature smirk flickered at the edge of his lips, though his tone betrayed concern.

“Oh, didn’t realize you were so invested in my jewelry,” you teased back, glancing at him with a playful smile.

He rolled his eyes, scoffing. “Hardly. I just don’t want to hear you complain when it falls apart.”

You chuckled softly, stepping closer. Over the months, you had grown accustomed to his bratty attitude. His snarky comments and sarcastic quips had become something of a second language between you two. Rafayel rarely expressed his emotions directly, instead choosing to deflect with teasing remarks or mock disdain. But you had learned to read him—his soft glances, the way his gaze lingered when he thought you weren’t looking, or how he always managed to stay within arm’s reach.

Tonight, there was something different. The usual playful edge to his words was there, but the way he shifted his weight from one foot to the other gave him away. He was anxious. It wasn’t obvious, not to anyone who didn’t know him as well as you did, but you could see the tension in his posture, the way his fingers drummed restlessly against the railing.

“Right,” you said, standing beside him at the railing. “Wouldn’t want to be a bother.”

He tilted his head slightly, the faintest of smiles tugging at his lips. “You already are.”

Despite the words, his tone was softer than usual, the sharpness dulled. His eyes followed the stars above for a moment, and you could see the way his bravado slipped, just a little. It was subtle, but you had come to notice the small tells—the brief flicker of vulnerability behind his playful mask.

“You know,” you began, leaning just a little closer, “for someone who says they don’t care, you sure go out of your way to stick around.”

He narrowed his eyes but didn’t pull away. “I’m only sticking around because I need someone competent to look out for me.”

You grinned, knowing better. “Sure, Rafayel. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

His gaze softened, the faint blush on his cheeks betraying the snark in his words. For all his brattiness, you had seen through the act long ago. You understood that this was how he showed he cared, wrapped up in layers of ego and arrogance, but still there, in the way he always wanted you close.

The night deepened around you, the cool air carrying the scent of flowers and earth. The grand estate behind you seemed distant, the sounds of music and laughter fading into the background. Here, on the balcony, it was just the two of you—a peaceful moment away from the constant buzz of attention that Rafayel usually thrived on. You glanced over at him again, catching the way his eyes flickered over the garden below, but this time there was no smugness, no hint of his usual arrogance. He seemed… pensive.

“Do you ever get tired of it?” you asked suddenly, breaking the silence. “The act?”

His gaze snapped to you, surprise flashing across his features before he masked it with a huff. “What act?”

“The bravado. The teasing. Always pretending like nothing bothers you.”

He frowned, the lines of his face tightening for a moment before he shrugged, looking away. “Why? Is it bothering you now?”

“No,” you replied softly, “but it’s okay if you’re tired of it. You don’t have to put on a show all the time.”

He didn’t answer at first, just kept staring out into the night. The silence stretched between you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It felt like the calm before something important, something real. Finally, Rafayel let out a quiet sigh, the sound barely audible over the breeze.

“I guess… sometimes it gets exhausting,” he admitted, his voice so low you almost didn’t hear it. “But it’s all I know how to do.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden honesty. Rafayel rarely let his guard down like this. You reached out, gently placing your hand over his. “You don’t have to pretend with me, Rafayel. I know you better than that.”

He stiffened at the contact at first, his eyes dropping to your intertwined hands. For a moment, you thought he would pull away, but instead, he just stayed there, his posture tense but unmoving. You could feel the conflict in him, the way he wrestled with letting himself be vulnerable.

Before either of you could say anything more, you gave in to the urge that had been tugging at you all night. Leaning in, you pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your lips. His eyes widened at the unexpected gesture, and for a second, you wondered if you had gone too far.

But then, something in him seemed to shift. His shoulders relaxed, and the usual tension that clung to him melted away, replaced by something softer, more open. He blinked, the blush on his cheeks deepening as he turned his head slightly to look at you.

“You’re such a sap,” he muttered, but there was no real bite to his words. His eyes were soft, his usual smirk replaced by something more genuine.

“You like it,” you teased, brushing a strand of lavender hair from his face.

“Yeah,” he admitted, so quietly you almost didn’t hear him. “Maybe I do.”

The two of you stood there for a long moment, the night wrapping around you like a blanket. Eventually, Rafayel let out a long, slow breath, leaning in just a little closer until his head rested gently against your shoulder. It was a rare display of vulnerability, one he wouldn’t allow anyone else to see. But with you, it felt safe. Right.

You shifted slightly, allowing him to lean into your chest as you wrapped an arm around his shoulders, pulling him closer. Rafayel didn’t resist. Instead, he buried his face against you, his lavender hair brushing against your chin as his breathing steadied, his usual bravado completely absent.

As the minutes ticked by, you felt the tension ease from his body, his breathing slowing as the weight of the evening seemed to finally lift from him. It wasn’t often that Rafayel allowed himself to be this open, this honest. But in the warmth of your embrace, with the stars above and the soft night air around you, he let himself be just Rafayel—not the bratty prince, not the sarcastic flirt, but the man who had come to care for you more than he would ever admit out loud.

“Thank you ...” he muttered, his voice muffled but sincere.

You smiled, your fingers gently brushing through his hair. "I adore you ..."

For the first time since you’d known him, he didn’t pull away from the affection, instead sinking deeper into the embrace. And in that quiet moment, there were no snarky remarks, no bratty comebacks—just the two of you, close and content in the silence.

I really love him now ✨️

✧──────✧₊∘∘₊✧──────✧₊∘∘₊✧──────✧

[hanasnx]

MINORS DNI 18+

“You did what?” HAYDEN CHRISTENSEN questions in amused disbelief, picking himself up off the bed a centimeter when his abdomen flexed from his powerful scoff.

Nestled into his side, a thick arm wound around you, you’re playfully incredulous when you animate inquiring gestures at him, frowning over his obvious skepticism. “Why would I lie about that?”

“No, baby, it’s not that you would lie, I just-“ He squeezes you tighter, and jostles you gently. Once he glances at your pout, he softens his delivery, “I’m saying, it’s hard to wrap my head around. I never thought that a fan could… you know,” he trails off, gesticulating vaguely to finish his sentence by drawing attention to your naked and tangled bodies underneath the covers.

You squeak a noise of offense, sitting up and out of his embrace clutching the sheets to your bare chest. He doesn’t deserve to see them right now. “Oh, my god.” you exclaim, and when you swing your legs out to land your feet on the cold floor, you draw the sheet with you.

“Now wait, c’mon, I didn’t mean that. Come back, you’re taking the warm with you.” he scrambles to find an excuse to keep you close, but you’re already walking away as he’s reaching for you.

“I’m going to find the picture. I know I have it somewhere.” you insist, more to yourself than him as he settles back into bed. The way your hips sway catch the thin material between your ass, and he rolls his tongue between his lips as he watches. You bend down over a box next to your bedroom desk, sifting through its contents hastily until you move onto the next one. Hayden adjusts in his seat, picking at his halfie that’s perking up at the memory of what you look like under that sheet, underneath him. “Ugh, it was right here!”

“If you don’t have it, sweetheart, don’t worry, I believe you. Come back to bed,” he coaxes, eyes hooded as he keeps them glued to you. You reach behind you, wagging a shaming finger at him to which he chuckles at.

“No, no. I’ll find it.” you scold him for his attempts to derail you from your quest, striding to the other side to check a drawer. “Ah-ha!” you interject victoriously, smug in your success as you flick the photo out of its place.

“Is that it?” he asks, craning his neck to see past you, but he sounds nonchalant, as if he’s still skeptical of your claim.

“You are gonna eat those fuckin’ words, baby,” you muse as you march right back to him, the paper flipping in air from your rush. “Take a look at this.”

You shove the photo into his view, and gingerly he takes it, his thumb at the very edge of the white line so as to not soil the quality with his fingerprints. Quietly, he observes it through the bottoms of his eyes, tipping his head back, demonstrating his aging sight as he takes a gander at it much like an old man might. Uneasily, you glance between them. “Oh.” he finally says with knowing. “You changed your hair.” he notes, tilting his head at the picture of you and him. Years ago, you’d gone to a con with the sole purpose of meeting Hayden to take a photo with him. The day you bought that photo op ticket was one of your happiest, replaced as soon as you first laid eyes on him in that booth.

“See? You believe me now.” you tell him cockily, popping your hip out.

“I remember you.” he muses in a tune, scratching at the scruff off his cheek with a pensive parted smile. “You had the cutest little ass—“

Promptly, you go to pluck the picture from his grasp. “Okay, that’s enough.” but he’s much too quick for you, jerking it away to continue ogling it.

Keeping it from you, his voice raises in volume and glee as you continue to fail to retrieve it from him. “No, no, it’s coming back to me. You tripped on the way in. Sweet little thing. Couldn’t even say anything to me, you were so nervous. Held eye contact like a champ though,”

You reach fully over him, stretching out over his lap as you struggle to grab it from him. “Hayden! Give it back!”

“Your little hand was shaking when you offered it to me. Asking for that pose. Still the same naughty girl.”

[nvuy]

im like itching for a boothill x single parent romance. LIKE WHAT IF they moved in next to boothill and everyones like "naww dont go near that guy hes scary and shit" but when kid sees boothill they get so intrigued by boothill they try to get close to him every time they see and hes just... scared? or paranoid, so he doesnt let them close. and then one time kid was still asking questions to boothill and stuff, parent was rushing looking for them, they see them, and then goes like "omf sir im so sorry my kid bothered you" and then boothill is like "nah its ok id do anyt- no what i mean we just met its cool btw lmao"

yk that one scene in a goofy movie where max get laughed at on the bleachers and then roxanne comes and picks him up and asks if he’s alright and then max starts babbling absolute gibberish yep

“So, how strong are you, mister?”

Boothill’s fingers are pressed against the girl’s tiny tiny hands. So small and little and squishy, and he seriously contemplated squishing her until she popped. His palm is cold against hers, and she giggles at the difference in size.

“Hmm…” He leans back on his heels in his squatting position in the front garden. He taps his chin in thought. “Don’t gotta clue. Anythin’ you need me to pick up?”

The girl gasps and there’s stars in her eyes. “Can you pick me up?” She stretches out her arms towards him.

He cracks a grin at her and ruffles her hair. “I dunno. You might be a bit heavy.” He’s teasing her, of course, but she pouts.

“At least try.”

“Alright, little lady.” He hooks his arms underneath hers and hoists her up easily, hands locked at her ribs. “How’s that? Good enough for ya?”

She hums thoughtfully, a cheeky smile on her face as she, too, taps her chin. “Now you gotta carry me for the entire day.”

It was his turn to pout. “N’aw. That’s no fair.”

“There you are!” There’s a rustle of footsteps and the jangling of keys to his left that made him stiffen for a moment, before your familiar face comes into view. Your eyes flit from him to your daughter. “I’ve been calling you for lunch.”

Oh, great Heavens.

“Hi, gorg– uh…” The ranger stumbles over his tongue and zips his lips shut when a small smile stretches into your lips. “We were– I was just– uh…”

Your daughter looks upset when Boothill gently places her back down in the grass.

“Just horsin’ ‘round,” he finishes. “I was just passin’ by, y’see? And your lil’ princess chased me down.”

You clear your throat, staring down at your shoes for a moment and trying to hide the heat rising from your neck to your face.

“I’m sorry about her,” you say to him. “She’s, um… hard to control.”

“That’s a good thing,” he whispers down to your daughter. “Means you got a free spirit.” He pokes her in the side and she giggles.

You give him another look and his eyes snap to the left, and a casual tune leaves his lips in the form of a whistle.

You offer a hand to the girl. “I made pasta.”

Your daughter practically barrels into your side, almost knocking you over with how her small arms wrap around your hips—she used to only be able to reach your knees. God, time flies.

Your eyes flit to the ranger once more. “Um… I made a lot so… if you’re hungry…” Your eyes trail down to his stomach before you swallow. “Do you get hungry?”

He studies your face for a moment with a pensive look.

Then, Boothill snorts. “Nah, sugar.”

Your face is burning. “Right. Well, you’re welcome to come in, anyway.”

“Oh, please have lunch with us!” your daughter all but begs. Her hands have now interlocked in front of her in a pleading gesture, and she’s offering him her most intense puppy eyes. “I can show you my room.”

He’s immediately swayed. “Well, it’s hard to say no to a cute thing like you.” He reaches down and pinches her cheek.

He watches you blink, perhaps taken aback for a moment.

He thinks you’re so beautiful, even if the apron you’re wearing is covered in sauce stains.

He almost starts cheering when you visibly perk up. “You’ll join us?”

“’Course! I’d do anythin’ for y–” He stops himself by digging his teeth into his tongue. “I mean… if ya insist.”

He can tell you’re biting the inside of your cheeks to keep yourself from smiling too wide. You pucker your lips and look elsewhere, face dark with blood.

Your daughter is strangely silent. He notices she’s enamoured with a bright blue butterfly floating along one of the bushes nearby.

“Cool.” You can’t think of anything else to really say. You rock on your heels absentmindedly. “I’d like that.”

His smile grows impossibly wider. “Would ya now?” He taps your nose once before he bends down to greet your daughter again. “Lead the way, little lady.”

“One sec,” you mumble, digging in your pockets.

You fumble for your ring of keys before you throw them quite badly at the cyborg. He manages to catch them well enough, fingers frozen over the steel.

Huh?

“It’s, um… the purple key. For the front door.”

Sure enough, one of the keys was coated in a deep purple.

Your daughter has already begun sprinting towards the front door. You’re half keeping a close eye on her through your peripherals, but your gaze wanders from her to watch him closely.

“I have a spare so… you can have it,” you continue slowly. Was this… too forward?

Boothill eyes you for a moment. A hand moves to his hips.

Then, in a flash, he pulls the purple key off of the ring it’s attached to and gently tosses it back at you. You struggle to catch them, but you manage with shaky hands and stuff them back into your pocket.

“‘Ppreciate it, pretty thing. You know just how to make a man swoon.”

He blows you a kiss with the steel to his lips and then tips his hat. He catches up with your daughter in no time, sweeping her off her feet and letting her slot the key in the lock to open the door.

You realise when he’s staring at you, one hand holding your own front door open expectantly, that you’re standing out in your front garden gawking at him like an idiot.

You quickly follow him inside, and he closes the door behind you. He’s quick to swing an arm around your waist when you guide him into the kitchen.

[ickadori]

WHY IS HE ALWAYS CROSSING HIS ARMS AND PUTTING HIS HANDS ON HIS HIPS HES BEGGING TO BE A HUSBAND ATP

You find him doing it more often than not these days - sulking, that is.

He’s adamant that he’s not, that he’s just in a pensive state as he…ponders, but the slight downturn of his mouth and the narrowing of his eyes say otherwise.

The King of Curses, sulking.

The first time you had seen it had been when he was set to go on some excursion while you had been sick in bed. He usually took you along with him when a trip was going to particularly long, but Uraume had advised against it, raising the concern of your health.

~

“I fear their condition may worsen if left exposed to the elements, my Lord.” Uraume keeps their head bowed as they speak, and you cough into your elbow as you struggle to sit up in bed.

“I-I’ll be fine, Uraume. I’m well enough to go.” Two sets of gazes move to you, and your lips tightly press together as you fight to hold back yet another coughing fit. Sukuna narrows his eyes, and in the next second you’re sneezing, the coughing following right after.

“You’ll stay here with Uraume by your side - I’ll go alone.” His tone is final, and you don’t bother fighting against his decision, instead letting Uraume place a wet rag against your hot forehead, the cloth quickly turning near icy thanks to their technique.

“I’m sorry, Ryomen.” You wheeze, and he tsks, one set of arms moving to cross over his chest while the other settle on his hips. Your brows furrow when the mouth fixed on his stomach seems to downturn, and your eyes dart to where Uraume is standing slack-jawed. “Is he…?” …pouting?

His eyebrows pull in as he looks off to the side, upper lip raising just a bit in a show of dissatisfaction.

Uraume snaps out of their stupor, their eyes moving to yours as they give a subtle shake of their head.

“He is!” You blurt, and Uraume splutters when Sukuna gives the both of you an annoyed look.

“What was that?”

“You’re pouting!”

“Oh, it seems their fever has finally brought on their delusions. Please, pay their words no heed. Rest will serve them well.” Uraume pushes you flat black against the bed with inhuman strength, and you protest as they drag the blankets up and over your head. “We’ll be anxiously awaiting your return, my Lord.”