#Time has stopped and only silence remains...°•*⁀➷ not an edit

[hon3y-y]

Roomie!sukuna; part 4

read the other parts here! : part 1 part 2 part 3

cw : smutttt & fluff<3, oblivious!reader, pervy!sukuna, sex toys, oral (m&f), p in v, dubcon(?), breeding kink, overstim, s*x tapes, somno(¿not really but maybe?), dumbification, big d*ck!sukuna, sub!reader, dom!sukuna, etc etc

*not edited*

wc ~ 6.5k

enjoy<3

Sukuna has been on lockdown since the incident with Gojo. He hasn’t spoken to you longer than five minutes in passing, always having “something” to do. It’s driving you crazy, and as much as you want to barge in and get him to speak, you noticed that trying to force proximity only made things worse and attempted to give him the space he wanted.

But you miss your best friend, the best roommate you could possibly ask for, and the silence between you started to make you feel physically ill. The guilt was eating you up inside, and you were scared that by breaking this boundary, you might have ruined everything. It felt different this time; the house felt extremely cold, unlike its usual warm and welcoming atmosphere. So, after Friday rolled around, you decided enough was enough.

You let out a breath before raising your fist to knock on his door, patiently waiting for an answer. “ryo..? it’s me.." You wanted to roll your eyes at your own words. I mean, who else could it be? You two would have bigger problems if random people were knocking on your bedroom door.

Before you could beat yourself up about it, Sukuna’s door flew open, revealing himself shirtless with a pair of grey sweats hanging loosely off his waist. He looked beyond good; that extra time spent in the gym was showing and made you want to drool. “what?”

You look up at him, feeling frustrated, confused, and a little horny by how his nonchalant attitude worked so well on him. “Ryo, I’m sorry.” Sukuna tilted his head in mock confusion.

“for?”

You let out a grunt; even when you try to be the bigger person, he always has to make it extra difficult, huh? You crossed your arms over your chest, the movement making his eyes zero in on your cleavage on perfect display through your tank top. Maybe if he does this long enough, you’ll flash him to make him feel better. Sukuna fought a smirk as he adjusted his eyesight back at your head, his face remaining stoic.

“I’m apologizing for how everything went with Gojo. I didn’t realize how much you two didn’t get along, and... Ryo, it wasn’t my intention to make you uncomfortable.”

“And yet, you brought him home?” he quirks his brow, hand reaching to grab one of his shirts and slip it on.

You let out another noise of frustration: “I thought it was a joke between you two! I mean, Gojo is really not that bad. He's sweet when you—“ Sukuna rolled his eyes, the hardening of his body language made you stop short. “That’s not important—I'm sorry, Kuna’. You should always feel comfortable in your own home, and I don't want you to think I don't value that.” You looked at him with sincerity, your hands dropping from their defensive positioning.

He stayed silent, his tongue pressing against his cheek while he thought. Sukuna scoffs, looking forward and away from you. “You’re a dumbass.”

His words made you smile, jumping up to hug him. Ryo wrapped his arms around you, a small grin on his lips when you let out a squeal. You look and sound so cute, it’d be impossible for him to stay mad. (Plus, he got to feel your soft, plushy boobs touching him which made his mouth water)

“I got our favorite snacks and have a whole list of scary movies for us to binge. no gojo included too?” You spoke, pulling away to look at him. “oh really?” He hums, his hand moving to push back some hair that covered your face. You nod, "I’ll go and get everything in the cute candy bowls we have!”

As you walk away, Sukuna leans on his door frame to watch the way your plump behind poked out of your shorts, eyes zeroing in to the exposed flesh. What a pretty little thing you are...

He pushes himself off the door and into the kitchen, standing behind you before leaning down to whisper in your ear, “You look great in those shorts, by the way.”

Before you can speak, he’s backing away and into the living room while you stand wide-eyed. it doesn’t take much for you to brush it off, sukuna is a flirt and does it to everyone, simply chalking up the comment as Ryo being a tease, nothing more. When you get inside, you notice Sukuna is man-spreading, nearly taking up most of the couch with his long legs.

You let out a huff. “Ryo, move your leg so I can sit.“

Ryomen hums, leaning further back. “What’s the magic word, princess?”

His words make you glare: “I’m not five sukuna.”

He scoffs, poking your side. “hey! I thought you wanted my forgiveness. This is just going to make me more mad.”

You bow your head, sucking your teeth in plain annoyance. “Please,” you mumble, your small voice barely being heard.

Sukuna smirks, enjoying this way more than he’s supposed to. “I’m sorry, I can’t hear you. y’need to say it louder, princess.”

You sneer, looking at him silently as if to ask if he was being serious or fucking with you, and after his face not changing once, it's safe to say he wasn’t. you clear your throat, “Please move.”

He grins, moving his leg to let you sit, which you do, but not without mumbling under your breath, setting the candy down so that you didn’t have to worry about it falling when you playfully shoved him. “You’re an ass.” Both of you laughed, with Sukuna pushing you back.

Sukuna sighs, and you notice the reluctance in his eyes before he speaks anyway, “I missed you.”

At his confession, you coo’d teasingly. “Aww, Sukuna has a soft spot!” poking his face, making him roll his eyes, and nip at your finger. although, if he’s being honest, he is anything but soft.

but you don’t need to know that. yet.

Sukuna picks a movie that has the best rating, hoping it’s enough to scare you into his arms (and it always is). You’re cuddled up to him, eating a nerd gummy cluster when you let out a high-pitched scream and cover your eyes. “What the fuck was that!?”

He lets out a chuckle, rubbing his hand down your arm to relax you. “Calm down—it wasn’t even that gory.“

“His head was just chopped off.”

“I’ve seen worse.” You glance at him with irritation before looking back at the movie. “Oh, sorry, I forgot I was watching a scary movie with Captain ‘I watched Gore at Five.’”

Sukuna didn’t need to respond, feeling you tighten around him as the movie got progressively scarier. To be completely honest, these movies were the least interesting part of the night. The way you clung to him was far more entertaining. you spent most of the time making observations about how ‘stupid’ the characters were, even joking to ease the tension, only to either jump or make some weird guttural sound that you attempted to hide with a cough or clearing on your throat. Thankfully, the movie started to play its end credits before you were scared into a premature heart attack, literally letting out a sigh of relief as the names rolled in.

Ryo stood up to bring everything inside, a bit disappointed that it was over because he was enjoying the way you relied on him for comfort. Just as he turned to exit, he was halted by you gently tugging on his arm. “Maybe we can play a game or something?”

“Are you... scared?” he chuckled.

“what!? No, I’m not—“ You let out a scream when the ending credits had a jump scare that was loud; your defense so high that you nearly punched him when he grabbed you. Sukuna stared at you with a blank expression. “Okay, it was a little scary.”

After what felt like hours of sukuna laughing, teasing, and poking fun at your fears, the two of you sat on the couch as a comedy show played in the background—anything to distract you from the thought of guts, blood, and murder. Sukuna suggested a few drinks would help you relax, so now the both of you sat on the couch, slightly tipsy, while playing a game.

you both originally tried to play monopoly, but realized how long it would take and gave up. Then you tried to play Trouble but realized half the game pieces were missing (courtesy of Sukuna’s baby brother Yuji, who decided to hide the pieces instead of play with them). and after remembering that you left both of your favorite card games at your friend's house, you opted for a more verbal one.

“Truth or dare?” he asked, eating one of his candies.

“truth”

Sukuna nodded, thinking for a second, ���Have you had a recent wet dream, and if so, tell me who it was with and what happened?” He smirked, popping in a jolly rancher. “Good one, right?”

You rolled your eyes at him and retracted your words, "I pick dare.”

“Give me a lap dance.”

You let out a deep sigh. “You’re such a perv, you know that?” Sukuna nods, chewing his candy. “So, what’s it gonna be? Should I be playing some music?“

You shook your head. you debated what to do for a moment, measuring out what would cause you more embarrassment and made a decision. “I had a wet dream like..two months ago.” You refuse to look at him, instead taking a sip from the drinks he prepared for you two.

He nods, motioning for you to keep going. “I asked for a lot more than that.”

“i..don’t remember.”

He groans, “Cmon, just say it. We gotta play the game right.”

“It was about... Satoru—” Sukuna wants to stop the game, suddenly very uninterested in everything coming out of your mouth. In fact, he felt extremely tired and definitely needed to get some rest for whatever he had planned for tomorrow (nothing). “and…you.” That makes him perk up, feeling all the alcohol disappear from his body, like your words sobered him up.

“What about me?” a cocky smirk on his lips.

You take a big gulp from your glass, setting down the now-empty cup. “It was weird.” You started to explain the dream in the fastest way possible, talking about how Satoru had given you a remote vibrator and instructed you to wear it around the house. Well, Sukuna happened to be there, and after finding out, “you know...”

“I don’t know,” he replied quickly, invested in the story.

“It just got a little...rated R. and you were on the phone with toru and…yeah.. i mean, it’s not like those dreams even mean anything.” you tried to brush it off unsuccessfully.

Sukuna was rock hard, staring at you in awe. When you finished telling the story, you put your hands over your face, feeling uneasy. “Do you have one?”

“one what?” You peaked between your fingers.

“a remote vibrator?”

“That’s not part of the question.” Sukuna nods, letting it go (even though he’s never wanted an answer more in his life). “Your turn, truth or dare?”

“dare.”

The moment the words slipped from his tongue, you began to smirk, causing Sukuna to narrow his eyes, wondering what you could possibly be planning—

“Give me a lap dance.”

Ryo scoffed, shaking his head in a firm ‘no’ motion. “absolutely not, truth.”

“Tell me why you hate Satoru." Wow, well played. a double-edged sword. Why did he hate Satoru? If he were honest with himself, he didn’t have a completely good reason other than that he fucks you. Calling him annoying wasn’t completely true, and he knew you wouldn’t buy it.

What can he say anyway? ‘I hate him because while he fucks you, I'm forced to hump my fist like an out-of-control hormonal teenager and he’s living my dream. not to mention he gets all your attention while i’m left to feel like an intruder in my own home even though I had you before him’??? He’d sound like a fucking loser, and there’s no way in hell that you wouldn’t hold that shit over his head. With a sigh, he stands up, “you gonna choose the song or what?”

He can see the giddiness on your face as you immediately pull your phone out, “turn on the speaker, Kuna'” you scroll through your music, “What about this one?” You turn your phone for him to see. the song of choice? wine pon you by Doja.

Sukuna groans, “Can't you do the song that was in that movie with the male stripper?”

“pony? no. It’s been overdone.” you deadpan. He lets out a sigh, shaking his head while you grab a folding chair and place it down. “You better do it right.”

Sukuna would laugh at your comment if it wasn’t for the fact it was directed at him. While you start the music, he begins to sensually try and remove his shirt making you giggle. His body immediately goes rigid, tips of his ears turning red. “Alright, i’m not doing this if you’re gonna laugh at me the whole time—“

“i’ll stop! keep going!” You immediately cover your mouth. He lowers his sweats a bit, showing off more of his happy trail and glances up at you with an arrogant smirk. “Like it, hm?” You roll your eyes but stay quiet.

He starts off by bringing your hands up to caress him while he grinds against you, the whole thing is both attractive and funny because it’s him of all people. You can’t deny that he actually makes it look really good, especially as he kneels in front of you, leaning back on one arm while his hand drags down his torso teasingly.

He doesn’t make it through the whole song, sadly chickening out after the first chorus is over while you cheer him on, clapping. “Wait, do it again so I can record!” He laughs sarcastically before shutting off the stereo. “Fun's over.”

Once the two of you are back on the couch, he speaks up, “Truth or dare?” Just as you go to say truth, he scowls, “Don’t pick truth again, you chose it all game. What are you, 12?”

You let out a puff of air. “It’s truth or dare! not dare or dare.”

"Okay, and you picked truth all game so it’s been revoked.”

“That’s not how it works.”

“Yeah, it does.” Before you can protest, he’s already talking, “I dare you to let me go through your phone for five minutes. zero limits.”

“And what if I don't let you?” You narrow your eyes, crossing your arms.

He shrugs, “Then you lose. I mean, you lose most of the games we play anyway, so i guess it’s not new to you, hm?”

You want to argue and yell that it’s not true, but it kind of is… See, in the years you and Sukuna have lived together, you were forcibly changed from a sore loser to a quietly sulky one as to not embarrass yourself by the amount of times you and him have gone head to head and you come out the loser. You swear he cheats at most of them (he does), but there’s no evidence, and having a full-blown breakdown over board games is a little under your age range. But you technically can win this; it’s just five minutes?

You grab your phone, unlocking it to set a timer, and throw it on his lap, “Anything you find does not leave this room, you understand?” He ignores you, immediately picking it up and clicking the photos app (like a perv🙄)There’s a bunch of random photos, some screenshots of your home screen that you constantly forget to delete, and some weird selfies that make you grimace, “ew, ryo! Stop looking at it..”

He’s not really listening, though, admiring how even when you’re doing weird and stupid shit you’re just so adorable. If you weren’t intently looking over his shoulder, he would have sent them to himself (he’s so obsessed, he’d probably print them out and make a scrapbook like a little freak). It’s a side of you not shown publicly, and it makes his stomach feel warm and tingly. After about a minute of you non-stop complaining about his fascination with your stupid photos, he exits the app to open your messages.

You watch over his shoulder, cringing as he clicks on your recent chat with your newest fling, Hiromi. the whole chat full of flirty messages and light sexting, along with some photos of you in the purple lingerie set he bought you. “Should I send these to myself too?” Sukuna teases, glancing at the endearing pout you wore at his comment. He scrolled down, clicking on random chats, some more filthy than others but nothing too extreme.

He was about to click off the app when he noticed ‘toru💙’ and scoffed, “what is he? your little boyfriend?” tapping the chat to read through his messages. He wants to groan at how cute Gojo attempts to text you, using the 🥺 emoji after almost every message and using nicknames like ‘baby’ and ‘cutie’, it makes sukuna wanna barf.

While Ryo makes a remark about every “stupid” (his words) comment Satoru makes, you refuse to look, knowing the disappointment that will be very apparent in his face. You decide the ceiling is much more entertaining, resting your head on the back of the couch. see, if you were paying attention, maybe you would’ve seen him click on the shared photos icon, scrolling through until a certain thumbnail caught his eye.

It looked like him sleeping on the couch, but was too blurry to actually tell, so he decided it would be better to watch it, pressing play.

It’s very quiet as you pan the camera to where he softly snores on the couch, turning the camera back to yourself while motioning ‘shh’ as you sit on the couch across from him. You sit up, your legs spread as the camera catches a peek into your tiny shorts to show off your pretty white panties, moving the clothing to the side to show your glistening folds and what looks to be a pink tail peeking from your pussy..?

You bring the camera back up, having it far enough to capture his sleeping frame and your face, giggling quietly before your eyes flutter and a tiny whimper leaves your puffy lips, “oh—fuck!”

You were spaced out until you heard the noise, head immediately snapping up to look at what he was watching. Your stomach drops as you look at yourself literally being caught red-fucking-handed, and before you can snatch the phone away, Sukuna is standing up and turning away so you can’t. “Sukuna! Give it back, now!”

He ignores you, again, laughing at the video the longer it plays. “Oh wow, my roomie is a little porn star~” His eyes zero in to how your eyes cross, guessing that the vibrator went a little too fast and made you see stars. how cute. “And right in front of me? while i’m helpless and sleeping?” He shakes his head, glancing behind himself and at you in mock disbelief.

You’re beyond frustrated, tears of shame gathering in your eyes, “Sukuna! it’s not like that—“

“Then explain,” He turns back around to watch the video, looking at how you roll up your baggy t-shirt to expose your pretty tits. You nervously glanced behind you at his sleeping form before facing the camera again, “i hope he doesn’t wake up~” you pant, tilting the camera to focus on how you play with your swollen clit. “cause’ it looks like my pervy roommate was getting off on the fact i was unaware. hey, didn’t you say that this was just a dream? because this looks very real to me, princess.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, cursing. “i just—i told Gojo about the dream first and he wanted me to act it out but I knew I couldn’t actually get you to do it and so it was the second-best option! I’m sorry, sukuna!” your words jumble together as a lump forms in your throat, You didn’t even recognize how hard you were crying until it was physically becoming hard to breathe. “i’m—sorry!” You hiccup, arms covering your face in humiliation.

At the sound of your sobs, Sukuna turns around and realizes he might have let his amusement get out of hand, quickly shutting your phone and letting it drop on the couch. “w-why are you crying?” You don’t answer, if anything, it makes you sob harder and turn away from his strong gaze. Without hesitation, Ryo begins to rub your back, cooing in your ear, “it’s okay, just breathe”

You don’t believe it; this man just found out you’re a perverted freak, and he’s the one comforting you? You turn to look at him, tears still pooling in your eyes, “What? Why—aren’t you mad?”

Sukuna shrugs, “Should I be?”

“I—I mean, yeah? it’s justifiable…” You feel your stomach sink with every second of silence that passes.

“Why would I be mad?” You feel stumped. Is he trying to make you feel more humiliated? Is this a game? trying to get you to confess more and more to make you feel worse than you already do? “I mean, I guess I am a little. Why didn’t you wake me up anyway?”

His words make you freeze, confusion must be clear on your face because Sukuna continues, “not only did you not let me see it in person, but to not send the video either? That’s just cruel.” He’s smirking again, his signature, ‘up to no good’ look that makes you feel small back on his face. “I guess you’ll have to repay me, huh?”

You gulp, looking up at him. “repay you? how?" His smirk grows into a grin, so evil and menacing but so fucking attractive. “By giving me a live show, my little porn star~”

He instructed you to get dressed into the lingerie set previously shown in the photos you sent Hiromi. You’re not incredibly self-conscious, but as his eyes follow you when you walk into the living room, telling you to turn around and bend over to “give him a proper look," you feel a slight increase of nerves, hoping he enjoys your act of submission.

and he does. the way you nervously play with your fingers, breath hitching when you feel him creep behind you to look at how the lace of your panties cups your pussy. He’s been hard since he saw the video, but his need for you grows with every instruction you follow. so cute and compliant, wanting to do anything to make up for being so naughty. It makes him feel something he’s never felt before.

You’re gripping the back of the loveseat when you feel his fingers trace the slit of your pussy through the lace, pressing a little harder at where your hole is, chuckling when you push back against him. “Does that feel good?” You nod, trying not to speak to not embarrass yourself. He didn’t like that, making you yelp when he suddenly smacked your left ass cheek with a good amount of force, turning to look at him in shock. “Use your voice.”

“yes ryo…”

He hummed, peeling your panties to the side. You were so wet, Sukuna’s eyes were glued to the little strings of arousal that stuck to his fingers whenever he pulled them away, “What a nasty little pussy you have—oh look! She winked at me” You want to shove your head into a wall, feeling your body heat up at the way he talked. so shameless.

“Why don’t you go get me that vibrator, princess.” He gives you a kiss on your ass cheek, the same one he spanked, before pulling away. You obey, returning to the living room again, this time with the egg shaped toy. He makes you sit down, spreading your thighs as he teases you with it, dragging it up and down your slit to get it wet. Your hips gently rock against the sensation, getting choked up as he suddenly pushes it in and pulls your panties back into place.

He makes you kneel on the floor in front of him, already having downloaded and connected the device to his phone. Your eyes are still puffy, and you look up at him with such guilt. He can’t help but lean down to capture your lips, making out with you until you’re panting with your lips all swollen. When he pulls away, he decides to turn the vibration onto a low setting, enjoying the way your eyes become droopy and soft puffs of air leave your mouth. “You wanna suck my cock, pretty girl?”

You rub your thighs together, eyes finally looking down at the thick print he left in his sweats. You look up at him, nodding. "Yes, please” he leans back, getting comfortable, “then go ahead.”

You feel nervous as your hands begin to pull at the strings of his pants, tugging to pull them down. His boxers are tight, giving you an even better glance at just how big he truly was. Before your regular hookups started, you always fantasized about how big Sukuna was. Hearing girl after girl scream his name until their throats went sore and watching them limp out of the apartment the next day was kind of telling, but you were starting to think that you underestimated just how big he was.

With every ounce of courage you could muster, you began to peel his underwear off, your eyes widening when his long cock came out in all its glory. It was huge. not just in length, but in girth, and it was pretty. He kept himself clean, hair trimmed but not shaved, and his pretty tip oozed milky pre-cum, lightly dripping down his dick. “gon’ keep starin’ or what?”

Sukuna indulged in the look on your face as you stared at him, it gave him an ego boost when you tried to wrap your hand around his cock just to realize you couldn’t fully cover it. “t’s big right?” You didn’t answer, knowing he already knew what your response would be, and instead leaned forward to spit on it, your thumb moving to spread the liquid on his tip. He let out a breathy moan, cock twitching when you licked his vein hesitantly, “that’s it, good girl”

You attempted to take as much of him in your mouth as you could, ignoring the way your throat protested. Sukuna’s hands tangled in your hair, jaw loosening, while he watched the way you bobbed your head, looking up at him with teary eyes. spit seeped from your mouth, making it messy and noisy as the sound of your little gags filled the living room, “Oh, fuck yeah—take it all”

He began to fuck your mouth, pace picking up until he was roughly thrusting, eyes rolling back. You focused on ignoring your gag reflex until you suddenly felt a strong vibration in your cunt, immediately pulling away as you let out a cry. You had drool dripping down your chin, and your moans came out hoarse from his brutal thrusts, “Kuna'—too much!”

scoffing, he grabbed your head again, “keep going.”

you huffed, putting him back in your mouth when the vibrations increased again. you moaned around his cock, your head feeling empty as all you could do it suck on his tip haphazardly, pulling away to pant helplessly. you rested your head on his thigh, hand squeezing his length. “can’t do it, Ryo”

Your hips rut onto nothing, pathetically looking up at him as the toy brutally massaged your g-spot. You looked so angelic, messy with tears, spit, and precum all over you. Sukuna coo’d, hand reaching down to caress your cheek, “s’ too much?” You nodded, tongue lolling out as you began to feel the buildup of an orgasm, whining as your other hand gripped his. Your mind was going numb, sight getting splotchy.

Your hold on his hand tightened when your body began to squirm uncontrollably, a cry leaving your lips before your vision blacked out momentarily. You woke up feeling like you were in a puddle, Sukuna laughing as you looked down in confusion, “guess you weren’t lying, princess.”

You choked when you realized you had squirted on the floor, feeling embarrassed by just how easy he made overwhelming you. Before you could let the shame consume you, Ryomen was pulling you up and onto the couch. “Wanna try again?”

He tugged on the toy, playing with the different settings, until you became a babbling mess. He jerked his cock off lazily, getting off to the pleas of his name on repeat. his thumb reached down to play with your clit, your plush thighs immediately closing as your head shook back and forth, “n-no, hurts!” he pried your thighs open, spanking your cunt making you whine.

“Nuh uh, hold your legs open,” You struggle to follow his orders, shaky hands gripping your thighs to present yourself to him. He let a glob of spit fall out of his mouth and onto your already drenched pussy, spreading it with his fingers. He made you cum two times before he finally allowed himself to take out the tiny egg, throwing it carelessly across the room because now it was the least of his worries.

Leaning down, he kissed your swollen bud, a mewl escaping your lips when he brought it into his mouth and sucked. You swear he was making you see stars, Sukuna growled when he tasted your sweet nectar meet his awaiting tongue, hand reaching up to move your bra and pinch your nipple. The pleasure he gave you was immense, overstimulating not only your poor body but your mind. “s’kuna! wait—“

He shoved his fingers in your mouth, quieting your sobs as his cruel tongue played with your cunt. Everything he did was so vulgar, treating you like some whore, even letting little whispers of “my pretty slut” slip from his lips whenever you would buck into his mouth. “You wanna ride my face, pretty? that what you want?”

You shook your head, pulling away from his fingers, “Later—close l-like this!” Your words made him feel giddy, putting more emphasis into every movement of his tongue. later implied this would happen again and Sukuna was more than ecstatic to make this a tradition.

You let go of your thighs, your hands gripping his hair to push him closer. You were so close, practically tasting it. Two fingers slowly pushed into you, followed by another, scissoring you open and rubbing against that sensitive part of you that made your body heat up. You let out a wail, tugging on his hair harder when you felt yourself cum, basically riding his face until you went limp. The orgasm so strong you felt light-headed, ears ringing, barely noticing Sukuna pulling away to show off his wet grin.

He loved how fucked out you looked, barely conscious and twitching. Without thinking twice, he reached down and ripped the fabric that was semi-covering your chest. It took you a second to register what happened, looking down at how the lilac fabric was now in multiple pieces and frowned. “h-hiromi got me that..”

Sukuna nodded, rolling his eyes, “So?”

You couldn’t even argue with him, brain fuzzy and most of your short sentences came out slurred anyway. Sukuna took your silence as a win, leaning down to lick and suck at your tits, leaving hickies all over the surface. You hummed, mouth opening as you felt the tip of his cock tease your entrance, slowly pushing into you. Your shaky hand pushed against his stomach, “Ryo! t’s too big!”

but he just shook his head, moving to kiss you softly while his hand moved yours away to let him push in, lacing your fingers together by your head. It burned, the pain almost too much. However, Sukuna slowed his movement, letting his free hand go down to rub your clit. “It's okay, baby, jus’ lemme in..” He went back to kissing you, continuing to thrust into you until he bottomed out.

When he pulled away, he watched how your face contorted and your eyebrows furrowed together when you felt the double stimulation. When you began to babble, hips pushing into his, he started to thrust, picking up speed with every second. His hand still held yours, the moment feeling incredibly intimate.

He was losing his mind. Your tightness felt unlike the pocket pussy he used to fuck. No, this was completely different. He liked holding your hand, feeling you grip onto his with such need or maybe it was the way you gazed into his eyes like he was the only man on earth… Either way, there was a warm feeling in his stomach and a need to prove himself. His movements were smooth as he thrusted into your sore cunt, enjoying the squeals you let out when it got too much, ignoring how you begged him to slow down or you’d cum. He felt like he was on fire, sweat dripping from his brow. He wanted this all the time, seven days a week.

He wanted you.

“Oh, fuck—I'm gonna put a baby in you—you like that? want to make a little family?” He sounded arrogant, like he had already made the decision for you. and maybe it was because of how fucked out you were, but his words didn’t seem to bad..if anything, they made you squeeze him tighter and nod. “Yes! Please, Kuna! want it—so bad”

“oh yeah? gonna cream in this pretty pussy—fill you up nicely,” you agreed, legs locking around him. “Make you the prettiest mommy—oh fuck!” Skin on skin along with the soft ‘plap’ from your dripping cunt echoed in the room, so loud you would probably get noise complaints, but that didn’t matter.

All Sukuna could think about was breeding you, knowing that you would have to get rid of your little fuck buddies if he put a little spawn inside you. He could picture everything: the proposal, marriage, little children running around the house he’ll buy you two. And the best part: it’ll be free from Satoru.

He knew you were close when he felt your walls flutter, pleads getting higher before they got stuck in your throat as your eyes rolled back. He kept thrusting, working you through your orgasm before he finally released, pushing himself as deep as he could. He kissed you again, savoring the taste of your mouth and how, with every breath you let out, he sucked in.

He let you rest as he got up to clean. You would have offered to help if it wasn’t for your brain fog and limbs that felt like jelly. You can’t even remember how you got into your room—only the way he curled against you, placing delicate kisses all over your collarbone and neck, the sound of your giggles making his heart swell. He couldn’t help but watch you as you drifted off to sleep, hoping that in the morning you wouldn’t make an excuse for why this couldn’t go farther.

The thought made him anxious, preventing him from closing his eyes because, in truth, if this was the end, he wanted to prolong it. He took in every detail of your face, listening to the sound of your patterned breathing and the feeling of your soft skin in his hands. His eyes grew heavy eventually, closing before he had the chance to fight it.

You woke up sore the next morning, feeling a muscular arm wrapped tightly around you. You didn’t move, trying to plan out how to approach this situation. On one hand, the sex was amazing and you’ve wanted him for years. and on the other, this could easily be nothing and confessing that would be useless. You were beyond frustrated and had a slight migraine, but refused to disturb him by getting up and having to face the conversation prematurely.

So you waited.

Minutes passed like hours; the longer time went by, the more anxious you grew. This felt so different than your regular hookups—at least if things got complicated with one of them, you could just leave. but this was different. he’s different.

Sukuna slept quietly next to you, arm wrapped around you protectively. He shuffled slightly, signaling he was waking up. The realization made your heart beat faster, second guessing everything you'd prepared in your head until the sound of his raspy morning voice broke the silence, “Good morning…”

“Morning,” your reply was quick, your back still facing him. He hums in acknowledgment, body shifting closer to you to firmly mold against your back. he moves into the crock of your neck to inhale how sweet you smell before pressing soft kisses onto the skin, the feeling ticklish and would have been enjoyable if it wasn’t for your racing head. “sukuna?”

“mmhm?” He hums against your skin, sucking small markings onto the surface. You pull away to look at him, making sure to hold the blanket over your exposed chest, like it mattered. You had so much to say and yet didn’t know where to start.

at the feeling of you pushing away, his eyes open, curious as to why you created the distance (and mild irritation because he liked how you felt against him). The arm he had around you moved to hold up his head, eyebrows raising. he studies the look on your face, noticing the tenseness in your movements. “What’s on your mind, princess?”

You debated how to approach this, but you were truly stumped. You’ve had plenty of hookups, but this isn’t the same; you didn’t really care for them. “What did last night mean?”

He was silent for a moment before a smirk graced his lips, hand reaching out to brush a stand of hair away before making its way to delicately cup your chin. “So straightforward, huh?” He pulls you against him, arm wrapping around you to keep you flush against his chest. He watches you intently, looking for any reaction, “What do you want it to mean?”

You can’t deny it catches you off guard, your breath hitching in your throat before you shrug, “I don’t know... I guess if you just want it to be friendly—“

His jaw tightens for a moment before a scoff leaves his mouth. His hand travels to your hips, fingers gently tracing it before gripping the soft flesh, “You only see me as a friend?”

“no…”

Your response puts a sly grin on Ryo’s face. “Then why don’t we cut the bullshit,” He gets impossibly closer, lips brushing yours teasingly. “Because we both know we’re not friends…”

You can’t stop the stupid smile that takes over your face, “Does that mean that you’re my—“

He doesn’t let you finish that sentence, a possessive glint flickering in his eyes as he cuts you off. “I’m gonna stop you there, love…” pushing you to lay on your back while he leans down over you. he moves closer, his mouth hovering next to your ear, his warm breath fanning across your skin “…because I’m going to make it very clear who you belong to.”

a/n: and it’s done🙏 although this is the last in the series, i still have some drafts/asks that i may get to at some point but i wanted to give you guys some type of ending :) was gonna post this yesterday but didn’t like the original ending i had so i had to redo it. also, did y’all notice the jungkook easter egg👀

tags (ignore)

@smolbeanzzz @mwtsxri @call-memissbrightside @iluvjjkmennn @evieluka @celestep004 @ermatfhh @lenalondon985 @peregrine-nation @1dk-anym0r3 @noblogname-exe @theobsidianempress @silverserpentsofhogwarts @mr-mafias-wife @idkccdfnfz @thejujvtsupost @bbnbhm

[wakebymoonsleepbysun]

Untitled Doey X Reader Ch 1

Update: Now on ao3, updates will be posted there (and linked via tumblr) -> https://archiveofourown.org/works/63346465/chapters/162287860

So uh. Decided to do this. I'll put it up on ao3 eventually (with slightly more editing maybe), probably sometime after I get chapter 2 written. And after I figure out a title.

Summary: After the destruction of the Playtime Co factory, Doey finds what little remains of himself falling through the cave systems and into a river, where he's brought practically to your door.

----

Doey had been so sure he’d been killed.

He’s died three times after all. It’s a familiar feeling.

Darkness. Numbness. A chilling cold that reaches through his body and wraps around his very consciousness, pulling him down…down…down……

Surely this time he won’t be pulled back. Who’s left to even try? The Doctor’s dead, Doey’s family at Safe Haven are all dead…whatever few remain alive in the factory’s underbelly are probably close behind, if Poppy has anything to say about it.

Doey’s not sure how much time passes between that thought and the explosion. A minute? An hour? A week? A year?

He’s not formed enough to see, nor to hear. But he feels the depths of the factory, of the very caves themselves, shudder and then quake as a fierce explosion rips through the labs. Fire and smoke rush through the lab, then the prison, then Playcare, and finally the factory proper, leaving a trail of destruction in their wake.

Not everything is burned. Much of the lower levels are made of steel and rock, after all. The heat that does pass over the puddle of dough that had once been Doey is intense, and would probably leave humans and plush toys singed, but it only serves to dry Doey out ever so slightly. Not enough to make much difference though. He’s still too weak and liquified to pull himself together, assuming he could even care to try such a thing.

Silence settles over the factory and the caverns below. Once again Doey is not sure how much time passes before the peace, if it can be called that, is broken.

Something, some support or load bearing wall, finally gives way somewhere in depths, starting a chain reaction, and the whole wretched place begins collapsing in on itself, just as Poppy had wanted. What the fire had spared the collapse does not, and the floor below Doey slants, causing him to slide along it as gravity takes hold.

He doesn’t even try to stop himself from spilling down through the caverns, the bits of dough that still contain hints of who he used to be rolling and tumbling down the crevices. Even the unpleasant sensation of sliding into a frigid underground river can’t motivate him to try and re-form his body.

Doey fades in and out of consciousness, each time wondering if he’s fading in and out of existence. The water eventually warms, and Doey’s aware of occasional glimpses of light as the river carries him out of the underground.

After awhile, the rushing river fades into a shallow, trickling creek. Doey’s dough bumps numbly along the smooth pebbles of the creek bed for a time until getting caught on a fallen log.

He can almost muster the strength to be surprised that he’s made it out of the factory. Almost. But he can’t imagine he’s meant to survive much longer.

So he waits. Waits to sink just a little bit further into the cold, to sink far enough that he won’t be pulled back ever again.

Time continues to pass. Several days, maybe even several weeks. He still can’t bring himself to stay conscious long enough to mark time, but it goes from dark to light and back again more times than he can count.

He lets the days pass, feeling the creek wash over him. He begins to hear again, just a bit. It’s muted from where he is beneath the water, but he can still make out some noises. So he contents himself with listening to the babbling of the creek, the chirping of birds, and the wind through the leaves. He thinks he’s in some kind of forest. How far from the factory he is, how far away from anything he is, he can only guess.

Maybe this is what death is. A drifting, vague awareness…barely aware of his own body, his own senses, but just feeling the world pass by around him.

It’s not terrible. Certainly not the worst thing he’s been through.

Doey has just enough time to adjust to his new existence when he hears something he hasn’t heard in a long, long time.

Voices.

*

Hiking through nature is always the first thing people seem to want to recommend to you when they sense you’re dealing with some kind of struggle. Especially those who realize you live on a few acres of mostly forested land.

To be fair, they aren’t entirely wrong…though admittedly you do find it a bit tedious to be recommended the same thing over and over when it’s already been a habit of yours for a few years.

Especially when you hadn’t asked.

But what are you to do when your main source of stress actively--physically--follows you on said hikes?

Ethan Barlowe, who owns the acreage just to the west of yours. You’re not sure how long he’s owned it, but it’s at least a few years more than your family’s owned your plot of land.

He’s roughly middle-aged, a bit older than your parents would have been, you think. He’s taller than you and decently fit, usually wearing some combination of flannel and denim. His face has the slightly weathered look of one who’s spent most of their life outdoors.

“They can even divide up the plot so you can keep your house right where it is,” he’s saying. “You don’t even have to move!”

A sales pitch you’ve heard dozens of times before…and it’s no more compelling today than it had been six months ago.

“Ethan, I said no,” you say for what feels like the millionth time. 

“Oh come on! It’s not good for a kid your age to be living alone, without even any neighbors,” he protests.

You give him a deadpan look. Do you point out that, at twenty-four, you’re not exactly a “kid” anymore? Or tell him he’s currently doing a terrible job of selling you on the idea of neighbors in general?

“Look, I’m sure your dad would have rather the house itself stayed with you, even if the land doesn’t.”

That’s a new one.

You stop so abruptly he almost crashes into you. “I think I knew him better than you, Ethan,” you say tightly.

“In some ways, but--”

“In every way!” you shout, actually causing his eyes to widen for a brief second as he takes a step back.

It’s that shout that attracts Doey’s attention. He’s so used to intervening in fights in the Playcare as Matthew, then in Safe Haven as Doey, that it doesn’t even occur to him to do differently now. He immediately begins re-forming his body, listening closely to the conversation as he does.

You suck in a shaky breath. “Get off my property. Don’t ever come here again,” you say coldly.

Ethan stares at you in stunned silence for a moment before scoffing and shaking his head. “You can’t do that. Your dad and I had an agreement about the pond--”

“Yeah, and that’s done,” you say tersely. “Now leave, or I’ll be calling the cops.”

Ethan scoffs. “Right, because you have such a great track record with them,” he sneers.

Doey’s body reforms, and he realizes with a surge of dread that there’s not nearly as much left of him as he’d been assuming.

He’s barely six inches tall!

He’s not sure what he’s going to do now…although, in retrospect, he’s also not sure what he would have done before. You and Ethan would have been too shocked by the nine-hundred pound dough creature for Doey to have done anything in the way of mediating or intervention.

…Though it definitely would have ended the argument.

You and Ethan are a few feet away, on some kind of dirt path. The type that seems to be formed from repeated hikes rather than a deliberate attempt at making a pathway. The path runs alongside the creek, and Doey currently stands hidden in some tall grass and reeds that grow at the edges of the water.

The surrounding area is dominated by the rusty browns of late autumn, the yellows and oranges have faded away as the leaves begin to fall.

Doey’d been down in the factory for so long he’d nearly forgotten that seasons even exist.

“Th-That doesn’t matter!” you protest, though the uncertainty in your tone is clear.

“Doesn’t it? You really think they’ll believe some hooligan kid over me? I got a clean slate, kid,” Ethan smirks, stepping towards you.

Your eyes widen at his menacing tone, and now it’s your turn to step back.

Doey can’t help but glower at the implied threat. He generally tries to not pick sides, but if he were to pick a side, it certainly wouldn’t be Ethan’s.

Ethan grabs your wrist, pulling you towards himself as he glares down at you, and you’re suddenly very aware that you’re out in the woods alone. The only nearby houses are yours and Ethan’s, and you left your cellphone at home.

It’s all Doey can do to keep silent as he tries to come up with a plan. If he were his proper size, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself rushing forward and putting himself between you and Ethan.

“Now listen, kid. There’s no way you’re making enough to keep this place. You think you’re fine to coast along on that little nest egg your dad left, but it’ll be gone before you know it. Trust me. I know how the world works. I’m doing you a favor.”

“L-Let go…” you finally manage to utter a meek protest.

Ethan’s gaze hardens, his grip only tightening when you try to pull away.

Doey’s eyes narrow as he resists the urge to let a low, angry growl at how this man’s treating you. If he thought running at the man only to be effortlessly kicked back into the creek would somehow help you, he’d certainly do it, but…he’s not convinced such a gesture would help.

In a split second, the solution comes to him. Well, a solution, anyway.

He steps back into the tall grass, hiding himself.

“Hey, what was that?” he calls out. He pitches his voice up slightly, hoping it sounds convincing as a second person, and answers, “Dunno, sounded like yelling?”

Ethan blanches and quickly drops your hand, taking a few hasty steps back.

Doey grins. The plan’s working! Switching back to his normal voice, he calls out, “Hey, everyone okay over there?”

“Perfectly fine!” Ethan quickly calls out. He clears his throat awkwardly, his eyes darting to you. His brow lowers in a warning glare. “Think about it, kid,” he says quietly.

With that, he turns on his heel and leaves, heading down the dirt path while you stare after him.

Doey pumps his fist in a silent cheer. That went perfectly! Better than he thought it would, in fact. He’d been hoping Ethan would simply cool it with the intimidation if he’d thought there could be witnesses. Him leaving entirely had been but a distant hope.

Once Ethan rounds the corner and disappears from view among the trees, your gaze snaps towards the voices. They’d sounded close…so close you’re surprised you don’t see any sign of the ones who’d spoken.

“Hello?” you call out, walking towards the creek.

Doey’s smile vanishes and he tenses. He hadn’t considered the possibility that you or Ethan would try to find the source of the voices.

“Who’s there?” you call. You walk forward, the edge of the shallow creek lapping at your boots as you stand only inches from Doey’s hiding spot. “N-Not that it’s…a big deal, but…whoever you are, you…you do know this is private property?” you call out timidly, only to wince at how meek you sound. You’re not exactly feeling confident about protecting your land from intruders at the moment…

Doey flinches. Shoot. Maybe tricking you into thinking there were two more people wandering your property without your knowledge or permission hadn’t been the greatest idea.

“Um, we um, won’t be staying long!” he calls out hastily.

You frown. Why did they sound so much more nervous now? Are they up to something? Or just fretting over their (presumably accidental) trespassing?

And why did their voice sound so close…and so low to the ground? Sound can carry oddly in the forest sometimes, but usually people sound further than they are, not closer…

“You’re not…lost or something, are you…?” you ask.

Something about the simple question tugs at his heart--or whatever mass of clay in his chest serves as such.

Because, he realizes, he is lost. In every sense of the word. More than he’s ever been in his entire life.

He lifts his gaze to you, watching as you continue to glance around for the source of the voice, your brow knit in worry. Worry for yourself, at the prospect of unknown strangers wandering around on your property? Or worry for said strangers, lost in the woods?

Doey could show himself and ease both worries, but that might just cause a whole new set of problems. Not for Doey, of course…unless you have some freezing gas on you, it isn’t as if you can really hurt him. So whatever your reaction, he’ll be no worse off than he already is.

He doesn’t want to frighten you…Many children in the factory, and even adults sometimes, had been frightened of him, especially at first glance. While his height is about average as far as Bigger Bodies go, he’s one of the more stoutly build ones, and his lack of fluff and fur make him a bit less approachable than many of the other Bigger Bodies.

There’s a reason Doey the Doughman was usually portrayed as tiny in the commercials.

…Actually, that’s about the height he is now. So maybe the sight of him won’t be that startling to you after all.

“H-Hello?” you call out, pulling Doey from his thoughts as he realizes he’s been silent for several moments.

“Yeah! I-I’m here!” he says quickly.

“Where?” you ask, still glancing around, clearly looking for someone closer to your own height.

Well. Time to see if he’s going to be punted into the creek. “D-Down here.”

You glance down, seeing the tall grass part. A small blue figure peeks out. You don’t for a minute assume this little thing is the owner of the deep, resonant voice you’d been hearing. You don’t think the figure itself has any sort of voice…it just looks like a little toy made of colored dough. It looks familiar, but you can’t quite place it.

You crouch down for a closer look and Doey scoots back nervously. He’s…really not used to being towered over like this. But he forces a small, awkward smile, lifting a hand in the wave. “H-Hiya!”

You hadn’t expected the figure to move so fluidly. Even his face and eyes change shape as he speaks, and there’s a slight wobble to his round belly and big arms as he moves that a mere remote-controlled toy wouldn’t have.

He’s REAL.

The abrupt realization causes you to squeak in surprise, stumbling back. Your boot catches on a rock and you fall sideways into the creek. As you try to catch yourself, your hand hits the pebbly creek bed, causing a bolt of pain in your wrist.

The creek’s only about four inches deep, but falling onto your side and then thrashing about as you try to scramble away from the creature has left you completely soaked.

Doey winces. Evidently the sight of him is still shocking, even at this size.

But…he supposes you’d’ve never seen anything like him. Unless maybe you’d gone on a tour of the Playtime Co factory as a kid, but even then…grownups almost always dismissed the living toys as some kind of animatronics, sophisticated puppetry, or other such illusion.

Did anyone outside of the factory even realize that living toys had been in existence for…decades now?

“S-Sorry, pal…didn’t mean to scare ya,” he says, holding up his hands. He slowly approaches you, much the way he would have a frightened child in Playcare…despite you being well over ten times his size. Not to mention an adult.

“Wh-What…a-are you?” you manage to stammer out. Your eyes are locked onto him as he moves towards you, but manage to resist the urge to scramble back any further.

“The name’s Doey!” he says, puffing his chest out slightly. He reaches up to remove his hat, only to find it missing. Of course, there’s no way it would have stayed with him on his involuntary journey. Pity…he liked that hat.

But the problem is easily remedied.

He forms a new hat in his hand, this one the same light blue clay as his upper body instead of the darker blue plastic of his old accessory. Hat in hand, he brightens and takes a bow. “Doey the Doughman!” he finishes, placing the clay hat atop his head.

Doey grins up at you, watching your look of fear fade to curiosity. He can almost see the tension--some of it, at least--leave your shoulders as you relax ever so slightly. You clutch your injured wrist to your chest, canting your head as you regard him.

His kind tone and jovial nature seem to be winning you over, just as they’ve won over so many orphans and factory visitors (and even a few staff) before.

“Doey the Doughman…?” you repeat. You suddenly double take, blinking rapidly as you finally place both the name and his appearance. “A-As in…Doey-Dough?”

“Yep! That’s me!” he says proudly. “And what’s your name?” he asks in the gentle yet exaggeratedly eager tone of an adult trying to get an answer from a very shy child.

“Um.”  You’re still reeling from being in the presence of some kind of…talking clay creature, so it actually takes a moment to process and answer the question. But, after a moment, you manage to speak your own name, mostly without fumbling. Mostly.

“That’s a nice name!” he says kindly, his eyes closing into happy crescents as beams up at you. His smile fades slightly, his expression growing concerned. “But that looked like a nasty fall. You alright?” he asks gently.

“Y-Yeah, I um…just tweaked my wrist a bit…” you say distantly.

“Can I see?”

You hesitate. He’s so small…not to mention being made of sculpting clay. It’s hard to imagine such a creature is even capable of doing you harm, and he’s certainly not acting like he wants to.

You’re just about to extend your arm to him when he lets out an embarrassed laugh, shaking his head. “Oh, but you’d probably wanna get out of that creek first, huh?”

Despite your shock, you manage a small laugh at the quip. Not only because you’d managed to forget you were even sitting in a creek, but…well, Doey’s laugh is more than a little infectious.

“R-Right…” you manage. You pull yourself out the creek, taking a few steps to find one of the larger, flat rocks beside the creek to sit on. You don’t take your eyes off Doey for even a second. Not because you think he’d do anything, but…this whole thing feels so surreal, you can’t help but wonder if he’d disappear entirely if he left your line of sight.

You’re debating if you should offer him a hand up, but to your surprise he stretches his arms high above his head (nearly a whole two feet) and grabs onto the edge of the rock, pulling himself up effortlessly.

“Now, let’s have a look, huh?” he asks, holding out his hands.

“I-I think it’s just a sprain…and not even a very bad one…” you say, holding out your wrist to let him examine it.

“Well that’s good!” he says earnestly, taking your wrist in his hands. Holding a human wrist that’s almost as big around as him is a bit jarring, but he doesn’t let that show as he checks over your injury.

You’re surprised that his hands actually give off a bit of warmth. Not much, but more than you’d expect from clay that’s been sitting out in the autumn chill. It also has a bit more give than you’d expected. Not quite as soft as human hands, but just slightly squishy, similar to putty or clay that’s been worked for awhile.

He holds your wrist in one hand, using the other to carefully move your hand up and down, watching you closely for any signs of pain.

“S-So um, where’s the other one?” you finally ask.

He glances up at you blankly. “Other? Oh!” He laughs, shaking his head. “Just me,” he says. “Figured one witness might not be enough to drive the guy off, but two probably would be.” He releases your wrist, giving your hand a light pat. “You’re all set! Just be careful with it for a couple days.”

You’d been too surprised at just the existence of this creature that you hadn’t had time to ponder the reasoning for what he’d been doing. But as you do, you cant your head in confusion. “Why’d you want to drive him off?”

Doey seems surprised at the question, mimicking your head tilt as he looks up at you. “Because he was bothering you.” He pauses, wondering if perhaps he’d misread the situation. “...Wasn’t he?”

You grip your sore wrist, lightly rubbing at it. “Well…yeah, but…you just…decided to help me? A stranger? For no reason?”

Once again he meets your confusion with his own. “It’s not for no reason…I don’t like seeing people get picked on…”

“But isn’t it dangerous for you? What if he’d seen you?”

He blinks, momentarily surprised at your concern, but then grins up at you playfully. “Worried about me? A stranger?”

You pause a moment, then give a slightly sheepish laugh. “Heh…point taken…”

“Besides…I’m pretty durable,” he says, placing a hand on each side of his head and briefly squishing it like a bouncy ball.

You don’t find the action as amusing as Doey’d hoped you would. You blanch slightly, giving a slight shake of your head that looks more like a shudder. “This…This is impossible…” you say in a small voice.

His grin falters a bit. Maybe he shouldn’t be surprised that the wonder and whimsy of a living toy is easy to accept as a kid in a toy factory…less so as an adult out in the woods.

“Where did you come from? And why are you just…out in the woods like this?” you ask. Despite the situation, there’s a note of concern in your voice at the thought of the little guy out here alone. Even if he does insist he’s quite durable.

Some fragments of Kevin and Jack stir unpleasantly at the questioning, but Doey manages to quickly still them. He’s not sure how much he should tell you…how much he could even stand to tell you. But he’s not partial to lying, and some amount of explanation would probably put you at ease.

The slight pause before he speaks is barely noticeable. “I’m from the Playtime Co factory, of course!” he announces cheerfully.

You frown. “The one that was demolished?”

His face falls. “...Demolished?”

Not demolished! Lies. Destroyed. By mean Poppy, mean Doctor, mean employee…HURTS. HURTS US.

Doey shudders, staggering back and wrapping his arms around himself. “We’re okay…you’re okay…” he mumbles to himself. To all the pieces of himself.

His pained expression pulls at your heart, pushing aside the impossibility of the situation. You suddenly realize that whatever journey he’d taken from the now-demolished factory to way out here was probably not a pleasant one.

“I-I’m sorry!” you say quickly. You reach forward, cupping a hand beside him to steady him, though not touching him. “I…I shouldn’t pry…you don’t have to tell me if…it’s painful…”

To your surprise, he slumps against your hand, a dejected look on his face. He’d seemed so bright and cheerful a moment ago…you guess you’d bumped up against quite the wound to have his mood do such a turn.

Well…you can certainly relate to that.

Doey’s not even looking at you as he stays slouched against your hand, hugging himself and occasionally muttering things you can’t quite hear.

He’d managed to slip into his old role of protector and caretaker when he’d stepped in to help you. Calming you down and easing your apprehension had been much like his time before the Hour of Joy, when he’d play with the kids of Playcare. He’d always been good at making kids feel safe…and he’d been relieved to see those techniques could work on you, even if you’re an adult.

He could almost pretend it was the old days. The setting had changed a bit…and you may not be a child, but you still needed protection from bullies and comfort for only minor, very manageable injuries.

Nothing perilous.

Nothing life threatening.

He could still be the protector, the caretaker…just as he had back when the crown had been lighter.

“Um…Doey?” you prompt gently, pulling him out of his spiral and causing him to blink up at you in confusion.

He pulls away from your hand, his own hands fidgeting awkwardly as a halfhearted smile returns to his face. “Yes?”

“You don’t have to answer if you’d rather not, but…is…is there somewhere you’re going? Somewhere I can help you get to?”

Doey’s eyes widen slightly as he’s caught off guard at the question. He laughs, waving a hand. “Oh, no no, pal, you…you don’t gotta do anything for me!”

“You didn’t have to do anything for me,” you counter. “Besides, maybe it’s…none of my business, but…the woods doesn’t seem like a great place for a little guy like you…” As you speak, a poorly-timed (or well-timed, perhaps) gust of wind cuts through the trees, making your already chilled, wet clothes positively frigid. You shiver, puffing warm air on your hands and rubbing them together. “And I think it’s going to be cold tonight…they say it’ll snow this weekend…”

Doey’s not technically capable of changing color, but you swear the blue clay of his face gets a couple shades paler as a look of pure dread crosses his face. “Well I’m…I’m not…heading anywhere…” he finally says.

“Then…would you like to come with me?” you ask, holding out your hand again.

“With you? To where?”

You laugh awkwardly. Maybe you could have phrased your offer a bit more directly. “My house,” you say.

Doey sputters in surprise, at a loss for words. “Y-Your…house?” he finally manages. “I…you’d…take me in? Just like that?”

“You did help me,” you say. “And I wouldn’t feel right leaving you out here all alone…” you add, your expression softening.

His hands fidget nervously as he glances at your open palm beside him. “If it’s…really not too much trouble…” he says, resting his hand atop one of your fingers.

You smile, shaking your head. “It’s really not,” you say kindly.

He hesitates once more, then finally climbs onto your hand. “Th-Thank you…” he says softly…almost somberly, in fact.

You slowly lift your hand, cupping your free hand near him protectively. You carefully slide off the rock and begin the walk home. 

Doey’s a bit of an enigma--in more ways than one. You should be reeling from his mere existence. Maybe you’re just in shock or something, and the staggering reality of a living clay toy will hit you like a brick wall later on.

You suppose you’ll just have to hope it’s a bit gentler than that.

But what’s mainly on your mind at the moment is his behavior. He’d seemed so at ease when you’d first encountered him. Almost more concerned about you than himself. But mentioning the demolition of the factory had shattered that.

You reach the same conclusion you had earlier--whatever circumstances had led a lone, sapient toy to be lost in the woods--so lost and alone he can’t even suggest a place for you to take him--can’t be good.

You keep the hand he’s seated in close to your body, cupping the other hand near it to keep him from falling. Not that you’re walking anywhere near quick enough for that to be a real concern. He’s actually a little surprised at just how carefully you hold him, even after being told he can’t be hurt.

“So um,” he begins hesitantly, wanting to fill the silence. “Does that guy bother you…often?”

“Ethan?” you ask. “It uh…depends on your definition of ‘often’, I guess, but more often than I’d like. He’s my neighbor. He’s been coming by during my walks to try to talk me into selling my land…I guess I’ll just have to change what time I go for walks.”

You’ve already tried that three times now. The first time had brought you a couple weeks of peace. The second had brought one week. The third had brought even less.

“He wants to buy your land?”

You shake your head. “Not exactly. He has some…housing developer or something that he’s in touch with. He wants us both to sell our properties together for a subdivision. I guess they’ll pay more if they know they can get both properties? I don’t…really know all the details,” you admit. “I haven’t been interested in finding out. I just know that I want to keep this place.”

“Is there anyone you can ask for help? A parent or a counselor, maybe?”

You quirk a brow at the “counselor” suggestion…but if he was in the factory, maybe he’s just more used to talking to children? He probably just doesn’t know what options adults out in the real world have at their disposal.

“Well, I don’t have a counselor, and both my parents passed away,” you say simply.

“Oh…you’re an orphan?” he asks, looking up at you sadly, gently resting a hand against one of your fingers in what you assume must be meant as a comforting gesture.

“Er, not exactly? Dad only died a few years ago…I was an adult,” you clarify. “People usually only say ‘orphan’ if you’re still a kid.”

“Do they? I…I hadn’t realized…” he admits thoughtfully. “Still, though…” he adds, looking up at you worriedly, an unspoken question hanging in the air.

It’s the same unspoken question that always seems to hang after you tell people your parents are dead. A question you usually brush off with some platitude about being fine and just trying to live a life that would make them proud before steering the conversation away.

But���Doey’s sadness seems so genuine. Not that you think other people fake it per se, but a lot of them seem more awkward about the potential landmines they might step on or just at a loss for words, but…Doey seems like he’s actually more concerned about you rather than any sort of social etiquette.

He’s probably worked with orphans before, you realize. There was some sort of adoption program or orphanage associated with Playtime Co. You don’t know all the details, but maybe Doey had worked with those kids?

You smile sadly. “I’m alright. They’re at peace. And I’m um…getting there,” you say. Usually you just say you are at peace, but something about his earnest sympathy invites honesty. “I just um…try to do right by their memories, y’know?” you add.

Doey’s smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “They’d be very proud of you. You’re very brave, you know,” he says. It’s a line he’d repeated hundreds of times to hundreds of orphans in the Playcare, and then in Safe Haven. And he’s meant it every time, including now.

You, though, are not used to being spoken to so warmly, so soothingly about the matter. Even your grief counselor had been…well, not cold but…she’d had a job to do, you suppose, so her tone and manner had seemed more…distant, than the way Doey’s been speaking to you.

It catches you off guard, to put it mildly.

You glance away, clearing your throat and pretending to scratch at a spot on your cheek so you could wipe away a stray tear without Doey noticing. “R-Right, th-thanks…” you mumble hoarsely.

It’s been years since you’ve gone to pieces in front of anyone, and you’re not going to break that streak now.

Doey frowns at your reaction. It hadn’t been quite the one he’d hoped for.

You force a smile at him, not wanting him to think you’re upset with him. “Sorry. It’s just…been a busy day. I’m a bit…um…tense right now, I guess,” you say in a flimsy attempt waving off your reaction.

“You don’t gotta apologize, pal!” he says easily, patting your hand.

You emerge from the forest and begin crossing the small patch of grass that surrounds your house, serving as the lawn. You tilt your head towards your home and Doey follows your gaze.

“We’re just about here,” you say.

Doey peeks over your fingers, following your gaze towards the house. It’s one story tall, and…well, it’s hard for Doey to guess much more of that. He thinks it’s slightly bigger than Matthew’s old home but slightly smaller than Jack’s, but between his new size and how hazy those old memories are, even that rough guess is hard to put much stock in.

You enter through a small side door that opens into a mudroom. You kick off your boots and step onto the kitchen. “Do you mind waiting here while I change? I can show you around a bit more once I get into some dry clothes,” you say.

“Of course!” he says easily.

You make as if to set him on the counter, only to pause. “Um, would you rather be on the counter or the floor?” you ask.

He looks amused at the question, chuckling. “Eh, you can just toss me wherever,” he says playfully, waving a hand.

You laugh, shaking your head as you set him carefully on the countertop. “I’m not going to toss you, Doey!”

Once again, something in him warms as you take far more care with him than you need to.

“I’ll be back in a minute,” you say, heading to your room on the other side of the house. You lift your hand in a small wave, which Doey returns with his usual large grin.

Once you’re gone, he glances around the kitchen. It doesn’t look much different from any of the kitchens Matthew, Jack, and Kevin had glimpsed in their time before coming to Playcare. Off-white laminate countertops and floors, brown wooden cabinets, flowery wallpaper that’s peeling in a couple places, and the usual assortment of appliances.

You change quickly, not wanting to leave Doey alone for too long. You’re still pulling on your hoodie when you re-enter the kitchen. “Are you cold at all?” you ask. “Do you need like…a blanket or anything? Something to eat?” You pause. “Erm, do you eat?”

Doey’s expression goes slack for a moment and you’re not sure what to make of the reaction, but clearly the question has struck something in him.

“I um! YES--NO!!” He cuts himself off so abruptly it almost sounds like he’s being silenced by someone else. “YES--SOMETIMES!!” He clutches at his head, clenching his eyes shut. After a moment he seems to relax, running his hands down his face to reveal an utterly exhausted expression. Somehow it even looks like he has bags under his eyes.

“Hey, it’s alright…just relax…” you say gently. You reach out to put a hand against him, only to pull back without touching him. You’re not sure if being patted by a hand nearly as long as him would really help with the whole relaxing thing.

“S-Sorry…” he mumbles, looking away shamefully at his outburst. “I um. I…I forgot how hungry I am. I…I usually just…try not to think about it.”

“So you do eat…” you say. “And it sounds like you haven’t in awhile…?”

“I…don’t have to. I’ve gone months without eating. It doesn’t seem to matter. The hunger is…it’s just a feeling. I can tune it out most of the time,” he says, not meeting your eye as he wrings his hands.

You pull back in surprise. “Doey, I’m…I’m not going to make you go hungry!” you protest, aghast.

“But…it’s just…food’s not free, right?” he asks hesitantly, finally lifting his gaze to you.

“Well, no…” you admit. “But it’s not gold bars and diamonds, either.” You smile gently. “Besides, you’re six inches tall…I doubt you eat more than I do,” you say lightly.

He gives a sheepish smile and nervous laugh, which you chalk up to general nervousness. “Heh…right…”

“I was about to make dinner…I usually make enough for a couple meals, so it’d be no trouble to fix you a plate. Whatever you don’t finish can be breakfast tomorrow. Anything in particular you like?”

Doey briefly pulls a face as if he’s literally biting his tongue to keep from speaking…though you’re not sure if he actually has a tongue. “Um. Wh-Whatever you’re eating is fine. Doesn’t have to be anything special, I…I can eat just about anything…”

He hasn’t liked any of the “food” he’s had in years. Not since Hoppy found that last box of candy up in Playcare…and even then, it had expired years before she’d found it. But easing the hunger, even for a moment, had always been such a relief that he’d actually started to forget that flavor is even a factor in food.

You rest against the counter, debating whether to press the issue. After a moment you decide not to. “Mac and cheese?” you offer.

He gives a sigh of longing that sounds halfway like a sob. “Y-Yes. That…that sounds wonderful.”

“Then mac and cheese it is,” you say warmly.

You begin the prep work, letting the conversation lapse as you wonder at your strange new guest. You’ve barely scratched the surface of who and what he is, but it still breaks your heart how reluctant he is to accept any sort of hospitality from you…especially with how readily he’d stepped in to help with Ethan.

It’s possible he just naturally has a very giving and self-sufficient personality, but you can’t help but wonder if someone, or several someones, in his past had made him feel just…undeserving.

The boxed mac and cheese you make is a family-sized meal, so even scooping out two full portions for yourself and Doey leaves plenty for tomorrow’s leftovers.

Doey’s eyes widen at the sight of the full bowl. He tries to utter a protest--you don’t need to give him that much, that just half a bowl would be more than enough, but fragments of Kevin and Jack bubble to the surface, silencing him as their hunger roars within him.

You take the bowls to the table before returning for the silverware. You’re not completely oblivious to Doey’s inner turmoil, but you don’t even come close to guessing the extent of it, assuming he’s just a bit shy about accepting your hospitality.

As you’re reaching for forks, you pause. The forks are longer than Doey himself…would he be able to use one? You open the other drawer, grabbing the smallest measuring spoon you have. It’s still a bit big--but trying to eat mac and cheese with a garden trowel is still easier than eating it with a pitchfork, you suppose.

You set the silverware on the table and return to the counter to get Doey. Before you can, however, he leaps from the countertop, causing you to let out a wordless cry of protest, scrambling to catch him.

He lands with a splat, his lower body flattening against the floor. But before you can even wonder if such an act is painful, he bounces back up, his lower body rounding back out so quickly his feet actually leave the floor for a second.

Doey gives a sheepish giggle at your fretful look. “Eheh…sorry pal, didn’t mean to scare you.” He winks, waggling a finger at you playfully. “I did tell you I’m durable, though,” he reminds you in a slightly teasing tone.

You feel your cheeks warming with embarrassment. “R-Right…it’s um…just a bit jarring to see, is all…”

“Well, I’ll be sure to warn ya next time then,” he chuckles.

You hold out a hand, assuming he’ll still need help getting onto the table. He laughs again, shaking his head as he walks past you. “You don’t need to carry me around either, much as I appreciate the offer,” he says.

Not that he’d minded being held, but…well, it’s probably not something you’d choose to do if you were aware of just how mobile Doey is, even at his smaller size.

You get to your feet as he walks past you. “Oh um, alright…” you say, figuring he knows what he’s talking about.

And indeed he does, for he stretches his arms upward, gripping the side of the table. He then lifts himself so quickly that his momentum carries him over the edge. He rolls as he lands, ending up sitting atop the table facing you. He grins widely, giving you a thumbs up.

“Heh,” you laugh weakly, returning the thumbs up before taking your seat. He’s more physically adept than you’d initially assumed…maybe his time in the forest hadn’t been as harrowing as you’d thought.

Doey manages to keep the more impulsive fragments within him in check. It’s incredibly difficult to pick up the little measuring spoon and eat with anything resembling decorum, but Doey manages to convince Jack and even Kevin that good manners will get them more meals. You’re not going to want to keep making him food if he splatters it all over the table and walls, or even if he just grosses you out with poor mealtime etiquette.

Jack is pretty easily swayed by this argument, as it matches up with his childhood memories from home. Kevin is less convinced--he wants to take all he can before you change your mind, but he’s overruled, and even he can’t completely discount how readily you offered the meal even knowing Doey doesn’t technically need it.

Still, while his manners are far more polite than not, he doesn’t even come close to hiding how much he’s relishing the meal. Each bite causes him to emit a happy little hum at the delicious flavor--oh how he’s missed flavor--and occasionally do a little bounce or kick his feet as he savors the taste.

You try not to react at first, not wanting to make him self-conscious, but eventually a small giggle escapes you, causing him to flinch sheepishly, giving you an apologetic smile.

“S-Sorry, it’s…it’s just very good!” he says with an awkward giggle.

“No sorries!” you say quickly, waving a hand. “I’ve just never had anyone enjoy my cooking nearly that much. If anything, it’s flattering!” you assure him lightly.

Well, that’s a relief, though Doey’s still not convinced flattery would be the first thing on your mind if he allowed himself to eat as greedily as he wants to.

He only eats a little more than half his portion. Not quite enough to fully quiet his long hunger, but enough to appease the fragments of Kevin and Jack. He doesn’t want to appear greedy, and despite your earlier comments, he can’t help but feel he’ll quickly wear out his welcome if he eats as much as a human, especially at his small size.

It’s still a far better meal than he’s had in over a decade, though.

“Mmm…that hit the spot,” he sighs contentedly, laying back on the table. His belly is noticeably distended, to a degree that would be concerning for a human. You debate asking him about it, but decide against it. He seems happy and content, and despite how jovial and even playful he seems a lot of the time, you’ve also seen how quickly that can turn.

Again, you can relate.

“Thank you, by the way,” he says in a more somber tone as he lays back, staring up at the kitchen ceiling. “F-For dinner, and…e-everything…”

“Thank you for helping with Ethan.”

He gives a vague hum of affirmation. “Didn’t do much…Should help with…the dishes…” he mumbles.

You quickly stash the leftovers in the fridge and return to the table. “Doey? Are you alright?” you ask, letting a bit of urgency slip into your tone.

His eyes are closed, his hands folded atop his belly. “Hmm?” he mumbles tiredly.

“You’re…um, you’re just falling asleep, right? Do you…need anything?”

“Mm-mm,” he mumbles. “Just sleepy. Haven’t really…slept in awhile…”

Your brow knits at the statement. Does he mean that literally? Or just that he hasn’t had a good night’s sleep in awhile? Or is sleep “optional” for him the same way food seems to be?

“Well, why don’t we get you somewhere more comfortable, then?” you offer.

He doesn’t answer, but you faintly hear the sound of the slow, steady breathing of someone fast asleep.

You don’t want to leave him on the table. You’re not sure how much ergonomics matter to a little dough man, but…surely a bed would be more comfortable? If only mentally.

You gently scoop him up, cradling him in both hands. He stirs slightly, but gives no indication he’s really awake or aware of what you’re doing.

He feels slightly heavier than he did before. Or maybe your mind is playing tricks on you, and you just expect him to feel heavier after that meal.

You carry him to the rarely-used guest room, gently setting him down on one of the pillows. You pull the blanket up slightly, covering him up to his waist. Covered enough that if he gets cold at night he can find the blanket and tuck himself in more, but not so covered that he’s liable to get lost in the (to him) huge blanket. 

You lean against the wall beside the bed, watching him for a moment. You can barely believe he’s even real. Part of you thinks you’ll just wake up tomorrow and realize it was all some silly dream.

But…you hope not.

“Goodnight, Doey,” you say softly, finally heading out of the room, turning off the light on your way out.

You wonder if taking him in like this, letting yourself get attached, is really a good idea. You don’t know much about who he is, and you probably know even less about what he is. You don’t know what he might want or need, or what he might do. What he could do.

Then again…he’s a six inch toy made of dough. How much trouble could he really cause?

[ronearoundblindly]

Lease

best-friend!roommate!reader x Steve Rogers

*This was a totally random and spontaneous idea. Not edited. Light language (so we can get *the joke*), pining, light angst, hurt/comfort, and fluff. This work is for all ages! WC ~2k

Sam Wilson introduces you. Both your parents were veterans and active at the VA, so you practically grew up there.

At first, you’re reserved, a little formal, but very nice. Oddly enough, Steve just likes that you don’t hound him with questions about his military service and how it was different based on the decade, etc. You are just…around to listen.

He finds himself filling any (comfortable) silence between you with stories. Stupid things. Things that don’t have to do with the VA or his past or even his present, which is entirely work as Captain America.

Steve gets to a point where he is itching to live off of Avengers Campus, but he doesn’t want to live alone.

One day he finds you hunched over a laptop and grumbling, “why is everything so fucking expensive?”

A sentiment which, of course, he frowns at.

“Sorry,” you shrug, a look of sincere apology on your distraught face. “I didn’t realize it, but apparently, I’m poor with my measly three-thousand-dollar-a-month budget for an apartment. Now I have to find a roommate, and—“ you start wagging a finger at him sarcastically “—I don’t know if you’ve noticed there’re some real weirdos out there. It’ll take me longer to find a safe, stable roomie than it takes to—“

“I can move in with you.”

Steve almost gasps at how fast the words fly out of his mouth.

“Well, not ‘move in’ to your current place. I mean. I can—I would be willing to live with you. Sorry! That sounds bad. You’re not bad. I meant…you know, anytime you want to chime in and stop me would be helpful.”

You remain silent and smirking.

“Right. Okay. So…think about it? Or not, that’s fine.”

“Let’s talk figures, Rogers. The square-footage just doubled, and I need to rework the budget.”

Moving in is shockingly uneventful. You’re easy to get along with, when not suddenly up on your high horse about something, and Steve is easy to get along with under the same circumstances. You push his militant rigidity to the brink on purpose, but never too far.

Things sit out in the wrong place, but it’s never dirty. Stuff doesn’t always get returned promptly, but if he asks, you’re on it.

There are two bathrooms, thank mercy.

He has random and odd hours. You work nine to five, mostly. It’s the perfect level of independence without loneliness for Steve.

Sam and Natasha stop by regularly or ask you both out for drinks or to fun, new places.

One time, when Nat is ribbing Steve to go talk to a cute girl ordering at the bar, he panics and takes your hand in his on the tabletop.

“How can I do that when my date is right here?” he grits playfully through his pearly white teeth. “Leave it alone.”

Each word is punctuated by a shift forward and a slight tilt of his head.

Natasha is unamused and instantly grabs your other hand (which was holding your drink) to pull you toward the dance floor.

It’s awkward for multiple reasons. You’d pay a whole month’s rent to know what Sam and Steve talked about after you left.

Sam takes a different approach, luring—or attempting to lure—Steve into setting up just one dating profile online.

“You don’t have to put photos,” Sam assures, “and you can stick with your first name only. I swear to you, man, this’ll be good for you. Get you out there more. Help me out here, Tagalong!”

He turns to you for support. To be fair, you did quite literally tag along with your parents for years to the VA, and it stuck. Why it sticks as a grown-ass adult? You’ll never know. You just don’t mind Sam Wilson saying it because he means well and never uses it in public.

“Uh, nooooo.”

Sam’s face falls. “What?”

You look at Steve and grimace, clicking your tongue. “He’s not ready for that,” you conclude.

Steve jumps out of the chair, arms wide with victory.

“THAT’S WHAT I’VE BEEN SAYING!”

“I know you told her to say that,” Sam shouts back.

“Did not,” Steve barks.

“He did not.” You lean against your bedroom doorframe. “I just think it’s obvious.”

That makes Steve deflate a little. “Wait, but…I’m not that bad.”

“Oh gosh,” you fake with a huge smile, “look at the time! Gotta be off to bed…”

The men keep fighting albeit muffled from your side of the wall. The only part you can make out before giving them privacy is Sam, whining, “but you actually like bubble baths and walks on the beach, dude. You’re gonna be money on there.”

“Hey, why do you not, ya know, date?”

You look up from your breakfast, stunned because that came out of nowhere. You’ve lived together over six months now, and Steve hasn’t asked for one iota of personal—well, romantically personal—information.

Twiddling your fork around, you think.

“I always imagine what my parents would think of him, any guy I’ve ever considered being with longterm, and…I was just never proud to say ‘here, here’s the one,’ I guess.”

Your parents have been gone for years. You value their opinion anyway.

“Mhm,” Steve hums, “the one?”

You take a bite of food, straightening your back, tossing a dismissive hand in the air. “Yeah, if you believe in that sort of thing.”

He’s quiet for a while.

“So you’re waiting for the right partner?” Steve finally mutters, and he watches your noncommittal gesturing intently.

That was a ‘yes.’

Natasha knows. Sam knows. Steve suspects but won’t admit to anything. You are kind and unreadable.

You’ve always been kind, so there’s no discernible difference to signal you have feelings for him in return. He can’t bring himself to be anything less than a gentleman at home and makes absolutely no moves to find out.

He stays out in the living room a lot more, all hours, hoping you’ll mention staying in for a movie, praying you’ll be tired enough to fall asleep on his lap on the couch.

He’s in way too deep.

What Steve suspects is that it would be too awkward to start anything while living together, but he doesn’t want to leave you in the lurch for rent or a roommate. He also desperately doesn’t want to move out. The status quo is comfortable.

He loves being comfortable with you.

The stress of not telling you, while needing to make some sort of arrangements should telling you blow up in his face, starts to wear on him.

Steve is a pro at compartmentalizing his life, so it’s when he’s stuck at the apartment without any missions, a handful of meetings, and a team that all have lives for two long months that he cracks…in the least attractive way.

He’s messed up his sleep schedule with worry and playing innocent, and out of the not-so-blue, a horrible, vivid nightmare hits him. Steve isn’t even on the mattress anymore by the time he figures out there wasn’t carpet like this in Germany and the desk chair he grips is not a motorcycle.

“Rogers,” he hears. “Rogers, can you look at me?”

The dark room is somehow hollow and stifling all at once. His head turns slower than his brain tells it to.

Steve blinks.

“Do you know where you are?”

“Hey, sweets,” he husks from a dry throat. “What…”

“Can you tell me where this is?” You step closer and pry one of his hands off the mesh to cradle in yours. “Where are we, Rogers?”

“Home.” He swallows. “Our home.”

Your smile doesn’t reach your eyes, but you nod like he’s done well.

“Okay, Steve, I’m going to get you some water. If you want—“ your fingers smooth over the back of his hand, nudging the other to release the chair “—you can sit on the bed.”

You don’t leave. You don’t even get up from the floor.

He doesn’t notice he’s clutching your hands, shaking slightly until long seconds go by.

“Yeah. Okay.” Steve lets go, otherwise unmoving, contemplating how he ever thought the semi-rough industrial carpet felt the same as mud.

You carefully hand him the water and rub his back, using your nails to trace invisible patterns. He can’t remember what he was so scared of a minute ago. He only knows he’s sweating that empty kind of confused.

“What’s that supposed to do?” he asks absently.

You shrug. “Eh. Back scratches just feel good.”

Steve’s mind remains blank as he sips his water.

: We need to renew the lease soon. Like this week.

Steve has stalled as long as humanly possible; he is officially not being a gentleman now. He is a coward.

: Talk about it when I get home?

: Could you at least tell me if this is a hard NO on staying here or just some concerns/questions? : I don’t get why you’re being like this.

Steve gets it, but he hates it.

: I’ll be back tonight. Should I pick up food?

: ffs : Fine. Whatever you want.

Steve also hates when you’re mad at him…which has been happening more and more.

He’s been distant, he refuses to let Sam or Nat come around for fear they’ll play match-maker and ruin the whole thing, and he is about to ruin the whole thing anyway.

Because he is not smooth. Because he is not prepared. Because he’s built up this perfect and amazing, sweep-you-off-your-feet moment.

And he bungles it.

“Out with it,” you command, haughtily yanking your portion of food from the countertop beside him, heading for the dinette.

“I want to be with you,” he blurts.

“Thank god,” you sigh, settling in your spot. “So we’ll go down to the office and sign in the morning. I don’t want there to be an issue if you’re off to wherever for who-the-hell-knows how long on the date the thing expires.”

“No, I…” but Steve’s voice is too quiet.

“There’s only a tiny window where they’re open before I have to head to work, so let me physically sign first, right? Then I gotta go.”

“Sure,” he slurs.

“Steve?” You turn to see him staring down at his food. He’s still across the room. “Are you okay?”

“I said I—I meant that—“ he huffs out his breath and taps his fist on the counter “—I meant that I’m an idiot,” he finishes softly.

Approaching with that beautiful, open-hearted kindness that haunts his days and soothes his night, you cross to him, scratching his back just the way he’s grown to crave.

“Think you might be hangry,” you chuckle.

He cannot do this. Steve is hanging on by a thread until the graze of your hand slides down his forearm to take his plate, and he spins.

He’s thought about kissing you so many times, he mapped out the angles he’d have to hold himself at, how far he needs to lean to get to you, the care to take wrangling in his strength and sheer excitement.

Steve Rogers is good at planning, at least, this part.

Gentle pecks of his plush lips to yours leave gaps in contact that let you whimper, and he fears you stopping him. He presses, wrapping his arms around you and molding your bodies together. The linoleum of the kitchen floor makes sticky sounds beneath your shuffling feet, squeaking once you hit the adjacent wall.

The force of that knocks your frozen arms into his chest, and painfully, Steve relents to step away, but not far. He bites his bottom lip and tastes the balm from yours, his head tilted in shame but fiery eyes watching you from beneath long lashes.

“Oh,” you breathe out. “Oh…you meant…”

Steve’s tongue darts out hungrily.

“Yeah.”

[Main Masterlist; Light Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

They're soooo cute!!!!!!

[winterzsurprise]

Change My Mind [4]

Pairing: BTS x reader

SUMMARY: As a make-up artist, you were expected to glamorize your clients with brushes and products that cost a week-worth of food, not to befriend them outside of work, let alone have them save you from dates yet here you are five years later as one of their closest confidants.

Being a stylist of the world's biggest boyband is no easy feat, someone is doing flips, someone can't stay still and one's asleep but its fine, you can work around their chaos but then one day, you find out they're all your soulmates, a whole different can of chaos you don't think you can handle.

Tags: Soulmates AU, Friends to Lovers, Eventual Smut, Not Beta Read, Slow Build, Polyamory, Attempts at Humor

Words: 7.2k

nothing much to say this time but this is not beta read, my friend who was supposed to read it is unfortunately unavailable, idk if the argument makes sense in the end cause I personally run from confrontations so idk how to write good arguments so yeah.

ANYWAYS, Happy reading!!

EDIT 03/05/25: changed a few dialogues and added a few things

<<<Prev || MASTERLIST || Next>>>

___________

In all of your years working for Bangtan, as one of their staff and the youngest stylist, you've been included in every life events and celebrations there is. Birthdays, first wins, comebacks, everything there is even something as important as family dinners. You've never skipped or forgot a single member's birthday, period.

But as Guwon stands before you, a plane ticket to Jeju in hand with the departure scheduled tomorrow and returning just a day short before the tour, you find yourself at a crossroad. It’s Jungkook's birthday tomorrow and Jimin has planned a small party tonight at their dorms before the formal celebration at the company the next day.

While you've been trying to rectify the awkward air between you and the maknae since his confession by starting conversations, the maknae only replied to you with silence before promptly vanishing in two seconds flat.

But despite the strain in your relationship, you could never think of not attending his birthday. You'd never thought to be petty enough to return his energy. His present was already wrapped in a pretty bow under your bed for a week now for Christ's sake!

“I-I can't… It's one of their birthday’s tomorrow.”

“Oh.” His smile falls. “Can't you just give your gift today? Surely they can party for one night without you.”

It was a genuine question, logical and true but for some reason, his tone raised concerns within you. You swear to the highest heavens you could hear a bit of irritation hidden beneath dejection.

You winced. “I can't, I'm really sorry… I-I can pay you back what you've spent for the trip. I'm really sorry, I just never missed any of their birthdays. I swear I'll make it up to you next time!”

Guwon's shine dulled the further you went on and your heart twinged with guilt. In another universe where some humans gained animalistic features, he'd have dog ears pressed to his skull, staring at you with wide and glistening eyes.

You waved off the image immediately, disturbed.

“It's also my fault for not asking for your schedule. The tour is next week and then you'd be away from me for months so I kind of… panicked. I'm sorry.”

He should've known better than not to do research on your bosses, a voice at the back of your head scoffed and you waved the thought away as you put a hand over his. 

“I should've notified you as well. Tell me if those are refundable or not, I'll pay you back.”

He waves you off. “Cute but I've been raised well to know not to ask a lady to pay for my mistake, so don't worry that pretty head of yours about not being able to go.”

The date continued and thankfully, no dead air remained and conversation eased out of the both of you. Guwon sorted out his reservations early on, he'd stopped eating every once in a while to pick up his phone to either receive a call or respond to an email.

With how often he answered the chimes of his phone and how long it took for him to finally put it down, you figured he must've prepared a lot for the week and it made you feel more guilty every time he did it.

Today, he brought you both to an indoor park he rented for an hour for a picnic. It was on the outskirts of Seoul and he also cooked most of the food placed between you both, his mother however, was responsible for the side dishes.

Speaking of mothers, yours called earlier to congratulate you on whatever it was she was adamant on keeping secret but you already knew what it was and you were glad Jungkook’s mother gave birth on such a perfect day almost 21 years ago.

Guwon was planning to propose to you during the trip.

It left a bitter taste in your tongue. Sure you had expected to be married to him at some point but you barely knew the man outside of his colorful stories, and knew none of his actual behavior in his home. You haven't even visited his house yet for a vibe check so why is he rushing too fast?

Despite the guilt in your heart, relief is more palpable knowing you'd have more time to figure out if you truly want Guwon in your life.

Your phone vibrated in your pocket and you took a glance at it.

           [17:29] Jinnie: I'll pick you up at your apartment by 6.            [17:29] Jinnie: please be prepared😊

Seeing the t̶h̶r̶e̶a̶t̶e̶n̶i̶n̶g̶ friendly smile attached at the end of his message, you're suddenly reminded of the present. You hadn't told any of them of your date today, something that had drawn out longer than you thought it would. You frowned, fingers drumming on the side of your phone as you pondered on what to reply.

You had promised to help with the food yet here you are, out of town and on a picnic date inside a garden observatory.

“Who is it?” Guwon asks, seeing the frown on your face. Your mind immediately picks up the odd tone he has.

“Their oldest, Jin. We're supposed to cook together before the rest comes home.”

He furrowed his eyebrows. “I thought the birthday was tomorrow?”

“Oh, we're planning a small party before it, just his closest friends.”

Guwon nodded, eyes distant and thoughtful as he took a bite of his sandwich before continuing. “What time are you expected?”

“Their eldest said he'll pick me up at six.”

He looked at his watch and frowned deeper. “It's already 5:30. Maybe I can drive you to their dorm instead?”

You immediately shook your head. Remembering the promise you had with Jin and Jungkook. The maknae had recently begun to look at your direction again yesterday after Hoseok had talked to him, inviting Guwon would ruin the smallest progress you’ve had. 

Not to mention, you can't reveal their dorm location even if he is to be your husband. Company rules and you've signed an NDA.

“Company rules, can't reveal their location.”

“If we're going to be a couple soon, I'm going to need to know more about these guys you're hanging around. I don't trust them.” He says as he turns to the picnic basket to take another sandwich out, unable to see the twitch in your eye. 

“Well, you have to learn how to, they’re my bosses and my best friends.”

“I’m having a hard time believing that. I mean,” He scoffed. “Did you notice how they look at me whenever I’m around? That rapper—Yun–Yoonmi stared at me like I’m an insect he stepped on.”

Anger boils deep within your soul and you’re sure it's visibly contorting your face at this point but the man didn’t notice it and continued chewing on his food.

“Besides, their location is pretty well known already, no? Just a couple searches away, why be so secretive about it?”

You refrain yourself from frowning and it takes all of the energy within you to not react as wildly as you would’ve. It was amazing how the illusion of something good could shatter with only a few words and you set down the sandwich in your hand, your appetite fizzling away.

There's something terribly humbling upon realization that the man you're talking to is indeed, a man.

Noticing the shift in the air, he set down his cup of coffee with a slight raise to his brows.

“Why are you looking at me like that? It's true though, I just think it's pointless to try to hide it when some people already know, so what's the use of trying to hide their dorm?”

Where's Jimin and Taehyung at times like this?

You dreaded the conversation you're about to bring up to your mother once she calls, and could hear her scolding you for having such high standards. But Guwon being indifferent to the possibility of being stalked, and your boys’ privacy being breached immediately raise red glaring flags over his head. 

A lawyer himself who shrugged at the threat of crimes, the joke just writes itself.

“Don't look at me like that, I'm just… trying to understand why you didn't want me to interact with them after our second date. It makes a man overthink, you know?”

Whatever thread you were holding onto, a sliver of hope that you might've misheard or misunderstood him, decayed within you and you picked up your phone to stuff into your bag.

You had hoped, wished, that after your deep talk on the night Seokjin had scolded your ass to the nines he'd understand your dynamic better with the boys or at least try. You could already hear Yoongi's drawl out ‘I told you so’ as you packed up, even imagine him bringing up Namjoon’s statistical analysis and how I should've listened to it.

“If you're implying what I think you are implying then I don't think we should meet each other anymore.”

Tossing the food back into the basket carelessly, you slung your bag over your shoulder and stand, only for his hand to shoot out to grab your wrist in an iron grip.

“Wait, I-I'm sorry! I just got… jealous, that's all.”

Even with the apologetic look displayed clearly on his face and the fear swimming with them, nothing could bring back to life the trust you had on the man and you pushed his hand away.

“I can't stay with someone who can't understand why those boys are important to me, sorry Guwon but we're over. Don't ever contact me again.”

“You can't possibly be breaking up with me because I said what I felt? Over them? Really?!”

You don't even recognize the man sitting opposite you.

He knew, he saw how close you are with them and even sat through the stories you told him during your dates. Guwon knew you cherished every single boy in the group yet he disregarded it all because of jealousy? If that isn't a warning, then you might be blind.

“It's like I never even knew you at all.”

He scoffed. “Same with you. Can't believe I actually believed your words telling me you were friends but I saw how those boys treated you! No male friends should be that comfortable touching and hugging you like that without a reason!”

Sure your relationship with your bosses is unusual but it was built from hardship and loneliness from being taken away from home and surrendering their time for a glimpse of fame in a field where they're at a huge disadvantage. It was special in ways not many could fathom because in their head, what reason would there be for a man to befriend a girl other than having the intention to fuck them?

It was the mindset of the old and “wise” and it had infuriated you to the nines.

For him to reveal himself as one of those old cogs when he expressed himself as a gentleman and be convinced by his act of kindness, even the word disappointing could express how greatly upset you are.

“Bet you've slept with all of them at least once, hell, I don't even know why your mother bothered when you're already busy whoring yourself for seven men.”

Anger flooded your veins, it was hot and rampaging under your skin. Before your mind could even register your actions, your hand had already moved, making contact with his cheek in one swift motion. The slap echoed like a clap of thunder in the silence of the observatory.

Even after seeing the angry red mark beginning to mar his skin, your anger remained.

“Goodbye Guwon, I hope we never see each other again.”

Walking away was easier said than done.

You got picked up by Guwon earlier and since you've run far enough from the indoor garden, away from your supposed ticket back home, you're now waiting for an uber at a small library sequestered between towering and loudly designed buildings. You had half a mind to ask your friends that lived nearby for a ride but decided against it.

They might be busy with their own family. 

Unlike you.

As you sit there waiting for your ride to come, your mind takes you to your mother and her genuine glee at the thought of you getting married. Ever since your second date, she had been sending you photographs of weddings for inspirations, links to event places and tailors, and flower shops where you could have your bouquet arranged. She was beyond ecstatic, if she heard what had happened, she would be devastated. 

A loud, exasperated sigh left your lips, the volume catching the attention of the bookkeeper who was quick to shush you.

As you waited longer with only the deafening silence of the library to accompany you, doubt began to form at the back of your head. 

Was breaking up with Guwon really the right choice? 

An angry, louder voice screamed at you for doubling down on your decision. You knew your boys longer than you knew him, if the trip had gone through, Guwon would've proposed to you despite the short time you've known each other. Something you didn't want. Not to mention, he would've gone through the idea while contemplating on your loyalty.

So yes, it was the right decision!

But you were to be married.

Your mother was so happy to have finally matched you with a guy you attended three dates with. The thought made your heart clench, she was excited to see you on the altar and has most likely spread it around your town with pride. She was about to have three married children.

Gods, you don't want to imagine the conversation later on, she'd be distraught.

Your phone buzzed and you dreaded looking at the screen to see your mother's name. Luckily, it was Jin instead.

           [18:01] Jinnie: where are you?            [18:01] Jinnie: knocked on your door but the neighbor said you were out.            [18:02] Jinnie: you're late😒            [18:02] Jinnie: I'm going to have them deduct your pay this month for making me wait            [18:03] You: I'm sorry your highness for disappointing you, please forgive this servant of yours🤧            [18:03] You: was on a date            [18:03] You: not that it matters anymore, I broke up with Guwon            [18:04] You: does it even count as a break up? I mean, we weren't official, he didn't ask me to be his girlfriend yet.

You paused, face souring as you realized what you've just typed. 

Guwon hadn't asked for your hand officially even after three dates, he had the chance on your second date during the stroll but he didn't. Despite this, he went and asked your parents for their blessings when he hadn't even asked you first.

           [18:04] You: wow I just remembered that            [18:04] You: then he had the audacity to propose to me!

There's a pause in between his usually instant replies and you had an inkling he's already spreading the gossip around the group somehow.

           [18:08] Jinnie: wow there's a LOT to unpack there            [18:08] Jinnie: but worry not            [18:08] Jinnie: I'll have Jimin get us the strongest drink there is for later            [18:09] Jinnie: we'll drink that sorrow away and you're going to tell me what the hell you meant by proposing while not being official             [18:10] You: I don't think I should tell you that…            [18:10] You: considering… ya know            [18:11] You: also don't you guys have an early schedule tomorrow?🤨            [18:12] Jinnie: bold of u to assume I don't want hear how massive of a failure he is            [18:12] Jinnie: nothing better than hearing your enemy’s downfall😌            [18:13] Jinnie: also what do you mean ‘you guys’???             [18:13] Jinnie: you're literally our make-up artist!

You huffed out a laugh at the message but before you could type up a reply, the notification from your uber app popped out to inform you about your driver now waiting outside the library and you walked out.

           [18:23] You: and just because I'm your make-up artist, doesn't mean I should let you all get away with this            [18:23] You: and I won't even drink much :pp            [18:24] Jinnie: if I ever see you stumbling around the house, you owe me 100000            [18:25] You: WOW            [18:25] You: AREN'T YOU RICH ALREADY????            [18:25] Jinnie: money is money😌            [18:26] Jinnie: just get ur ass over here already before I add more zeros to the bet

_______

The smell of Jin’s cooking, both spicy and something savory, welcomed you first before the sound of sizzles did. At the sound of the door closing, Jin appears round the corner with an apron hung from his neck and a tong stained with red bean paste in the other.

Despite the disappointed look he's going for, reminiscent of a mother who caught her daughter coming home past curfew, the relief you feel upon seeing his handsome face after earlier was palpable and the knots in your stomach loosened.

“I should have your pay deducted for showing up late.”

You winced. “Sorry boss, can I appeal for a heartbreak discount on that?”

“Only if you give me a hug and cry on my shoulder.” 

He opened his arms wide, plush lips widening into a smile when you approached to wrap your arms around his torso. The fabric of his sweatshirt was soft and the scent of new laundry overtook his usual scent of freshly baked cakes and gentle vanilla perfume, it almost made you boneless in his hold. Moreso when he started stroking your head while the other ran up and down your back with his palm, fingers still wrapped around the tongs.

He didn't pull away despite the awkward position with him bending down and practically melting against your smaller form. In your years of being friends, you could never recall Seokjin being the first to pull away from a hug and once more, you're grateful for that.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“I’ll do it while cooking, we might burn whatever you're cooking if I told you all about it here.”

He shook his head, his rubbing motions on your back turning into gentle pats. “We can just order it online if it does, I even bet that they'll still eat it even if it was. Hoba was relentless today.”

His nails raked through your scalp and you resisted the urge to shiver. 

“He was being an ass towards you guys. Then when I defended you all, he accused me of sleeping around.”

His first instinct was to curse the man down to his ancestors who bred with each other until he was born, but stopped himself when he realized what he's about to say and cleared his throat.

His arms coiled tighter around you, you leaned into him further.

“Normally I would say ‘I told you so’ but I know Yoongi has it covered later. So I'll just say—"

"Don't you dare. Jin don’t you dare finish that sentence."

"I did prophesize this outcome, did I not?" he said in the most antiquated Korean ever.

He let out a cry when your hand slapped his arm but it quickly dissolved into a fit of squeaky laughter and he pushed your head back under his chin before you could even continue hitting him. Hand continuing their petting as you let out an annoyed groan.

“My mom was so excited! God. I hate that bastard for disappointing me and her. She was sending me links to wedding planners and dressmakers because apparently he was supposed to take me to Jeju tomorrow and propose.”

He stills in your arms, the hand in your hair stopping its motion as his breath hitched in his chest. It took him a moment before he recollected himself and continued to pat your head, pressing a kiss on top of your crown.

“I'm sure auntie will understand, I know that she would've wanted you to find a good man like she did.”

A voice at the back of your head told you he was referring to himself but you threw the thought away as soon as it went.

“Personally, I would've taken the ticket and ditch him.” He laughed and you hit his arm with a barely concealed grin. “All I'm saying is that free things should be used and if it's gifted then better! You get to decide how to use it so refund it!”

“I don't think it's that easy.”

“Just say Kim Seokjin of BTS asked for a refund and they'll immediately accept it. You know how powerful our name is now.”

Pulling away, you playfully rolled your eyes at him, earning you one last laugh as you walked to the kitchen where the sizzles of the food being fried on the pan had long been muted. Jin followed you with an onslaught of words spilling from his lips, justifying and detailing how he would've done in your place as you placed your bag down on the island counter before reaching for the spare apron.

Hearing his rants filling the silence made it easier to relax, it made forgetting how upset you were at Guwon a walk in the park.

It was familiar and his voice, despite his fiery indignation, was oddly comforting.

Soon enough, your conversation halts and you both position yourself over the counter, following his orders mindlessly; which is mostly dicing the vegetables and the slabs of meat he marinated last night in soy sauce and spices. 

You found the repetitive motions of chopping soothing and silently thanked the man now hovering over the saucepan, gently stirring the seaweed soup. 

As if sensing your eyes boring holes on the back of his head, his ears reddened and he looked over his shoulder to meet your gaze.

“W-what is it? Wh-why are you looking at me like that?”

“Just admiring how huge your shoulders are and… just how reliable it looks.” 

You recalled how dearly he cared for his group despite the exhaustion from practicing singing and dancing the whole day. Despite being the youngest in his family, Jin took on the mantle of the oldest brother in the group easily and selflessly provided for his members alongside Yoongi and Namjoon. 

If it were anybody, you were sure the boys would've been sick or had long given up, especially when the company was about to file bankruptcy in their earlier years.

From the bone shattering dances, exhausting practices and routines stretching from dawn till dusk, you were thankful Seokjin was there to catch the others when they fall.

It was a hard task nobody would've assumed since selfishness is a built-in trait of a human yet Seokjin proved you wrong when he stayed up every night despite the muscle cramps and exhaustion weighing his bones to cook for his members, taking the role of the eldest like it was a second nature despite being the youngest in his family.

He barked out a half-hearted laugh as his red ears brightened from the compliment. “I already know that of course!”

“Thank you for everything, Jin.”

His face crumpled when he laughed bashfully, the bright hue in his ears crawling to dusk his cheeks as well. It didn't take long before he recovered and like clockwork, in reaction to being flustered by compliments, he got defensive and raised the saucer threateningly at you.

“Ya! If you're planning to compliment me, at least be original! I'm done hearing about how wide my shoulders are from ARMY and how reliant I am from the others! We've been together for years, do better and be original with your compliments!”

It was a joke, obviously.

But staring at the older man childishly brandishing his cooking utensil like a bludgeoning weapon, you couldn't help but ponder about what truly pulled you into him only to realize that you've never truly dove deeper than surface level details. 

It was disappointing to find out how shallow you've been when expressing your appreciation for the man.

Like he said, you've always pointed out how reliable he is but never have you pointed out the small things such as the warm food he claimed have been extras and the hot soups sectioned off for you on cold days. He was the youngest in his family yet he took the mantle of the oldest as if it was meant to be, he had taught the maknaes and had stirred them away from diving off of the deepest end of their minds despite being susceptible to them as well.

He was the first to approach you on the first day despite being the member who mostly kept to himself, asking you if you wanted to celebrate their Rookie of the Year win with them instead of the rowdy staff behind you. 

The first one to build a bridge leading to this deep companionship you had with the rest of the members, have you really never thanked him for that?

“You're so caring and humble despite your background and where you are right now. If it was anybody else, they would've left the boys to fend for themselves once they were able to,  yet you didn't stop cooking for them, for us. I don't think I have ever met a man so down to earth and as loving as you are,” You paused. “Well, except Jimin but if you want something more original I'd say I love your hands even when you think they're weird because they—”

You didn't even realize Jin crossed the distance between you both until his hands clasped around your lips, silencing you completely.

Unlike earlier with only his ears blushing, his cheeks now glowed red, the flushed skin spreading down to his neck, continuing past the collar of his dark blue pajamas. When your eyes meet, you find his glistening with unshed tears no doubt touched by your hastily put together declaration of your appreciation for him. 

When it was clear you wouldn't continue your rant, his arms fell to your shoulders and pulled you into a tight embrace. 

His violent heartbeats thudding against his chest was the first thing you've heard before you registered the stuttered exhales and his gentle saccharine scent filling your senses, clouding your brain completely. For a moment, it was just you and him in the kitchen, hugging a little longer than friends should be.

But then again, since when have you guys ever drawn the line on how platonic touches should last?

“God… You gotta stop doing that.”

“I'm just following what you told me like a good junior and I think I did exceedingly well on it. Does that guarantee a deduction on my pay deduction?”

There's an odd, invisible weight that lifted off of you, something you didn't even realize you were carrying. But there's also a tinge of guilt pinching the edges of your heart.

Jin was the first to approach you, and the first to confess four years ago. He was all shy looks and sweet smiles, his sweet words accompanied by a bouquet of flowers that must've cost him more than he could've gotten from being an idol of a new group. 

When Jin loves, he gives his all and doesn't think twice to give half of himself as well. In a way, he and Yoongi were alike, just with different approaches.

He was open and unapologetic while Yoongi was subtle and often silent.

His laugh twinkled in your ears but it dwindled later on, as if he remembered something towards the end of his mirth. “You're driving me crazy, how am I supposed to move on when you're this lovely?”

Hearing him confirm your suspicion about his crush—is it even called that at this point?—relieved you from an unknown anxiety most likely sparked by Jungkook's words a few nights ago. Why are you even relieved hearing him still liking you when all you've done is hurt him?

“You're such an idiot, you know that?”

“Love makes you do the stupidest thing but I don't think I've ever regretted ever falling for you.”

He pulls away, a gentler, softer smile now tugging his lips up.

“God, you made me sappy! My god, my soup!” 

Even without the warmth of his embrace, you could feel it radiate in the small space of the kitchen. You continued your work as Jin fuzzed about the seaweed soup behind you, bathing in the domesticity of it all.

Your phone vibrates loudly in your bag on the island counter. Wiping your hand on your apron, you opened it to see Jimin’s messages.

           [18:56] Mimi: seokjin hyung told me to buy the strongest alcohol             [18:57] Mimi: any idea why he’s being weird?            [18:57] You: I’ll tell jin that you called him weird            [18:57] You: but yes            [18:57] You: I’ll tell you all later why            [18:58] Mimi: 🤨            [18:58] Mimi: not if I get you drunk in the first ten minutes            [18:58] You: I’d like to see you try, pretty boy

Your phone vibrated again. Namjoon had texted you, seeing the preview you rolled your eyes.

           [18:59] Joonie: Seokjin hyung didn’t say but I already figured it out            [18:59] Joonie: You'd hear enough from Yoongi hyung later but            [18:58] Joonie: I told you so            [18:58] You: I hope you trip and fall on shit🥰            [18:59] Joonie: Love you too, noona😁            [18:59] You: blocked🚫

“I'm not seeing enough chopping, young lady. Get back to your station!” Jin jokingly scolds. With a laugh, you return to your spot.

By the time some of the boys arrived—except Jimin, Jungkook and Taehyung, no doubt pre-gaming somewhere—it was already ten and some of the dishes were plated, ready to be eaten in the dining room. If it wasn't for both your and Jin's advanced thinking to ready the bowl of rice and their plates beforehand, they would have starved to death as Yoongi dramatically puts it before blaming Hoseok for draining them out the whole day.

The man in question just laughed in response before shrugging and rebuking their ‘accusations’, saying it wasn't even that hard. To this, Yoongi grumbled under his breath and Namjoon rolled his eyes.

A few minutes later, the maknaes entered, cheeks all flushed except for Jimin who was holding up a bag full of canned alcohol as if it was game from an all-day hunt.

You thanked Jimin silently for drinking the birthday boy tipsy enough to make the dinner energetic instead of the awkwardness you thought it'd be due to what happened a few days ago. There's fleeting eyes you've caught in between jokes he made, either pouring with adoration or longing, you tried to not to pay it much mind.

But of course, the alcohol pouring could only go for so long before you're all lounging in the living room to talk about anything that comes to mind. It was half an hour short from the clock tickling to twelve, signifying Jungkook's actual birthday.

The conversation started off tame with Taehyung questioning the animals who sleep standing to something more elaborate with Yoongi asking everyone's opinion about some decrypt conspiracy theory surrounding the rich of the west. It was all fun and games when Taehyung, lost in his own mind running with the most random thought, sluggishly pointed at you and asked:

“Wh-why aren't you checking your phone? G-Guwon hyung haven't been texting you yet?”

Many heads turned to you who was practically boneless in between a tipsy Hoseok and a still sober Yoongi. You didn't even need to look to know the look of concern Jin was throwing your way.

But everything was hazy, your head throbbing from the alcohol. The words slipped past your lips before you could think about it.

“We parted ways… He accused me of sleeping around when I said I didn't want to go on a trip with him tomorrow ‘cause I didn't want to skip Jungkookie's birthday.”

Hoseok patted your shoulder and Yoongi nodded, face indifferent as usual. Despite the reaction of the boys on both sides, not everyone in the circle held the same opinion it seems.

“You didn't have to decline it, noona. You-you’ve been with us for years, missing one wouldn't hurt me much.”

Jungkook's voice was softer as if he had sobered up from the revelation and you waved him away.

“What are you saying? I couldn't leave when we weren't alright.” You glimpsed at Jin before continuing. “Besides, he was planning to propose and I'm glad he couldn't anymore.”

In your drunken mind, the information didn't carry much weight but the pin drop silence following your words did, you guessed that it must've been. However, it didn't last long when Taehyung jumped up to his feet and punched the air as if Korea just scored the final score in FIFA.

The boys look at him with wide eyes, shocked by his reaction. Jimin recovers and tries to tug him down but a drunk Taehyung is determined, with a will stronger than a monk's resilience and patience, no one could stop him from doing what he wanted.

And that was bumping his glass on your forehead, a little harder than it should've been if he was sober and you reel back, a hand over your forehead.

“Noona! you're free again! Do you know what that means?!”

“Ok that's enough for you tonight. Let's get you to bed.” Jimin says, chuckling awkwardly as he stands behind his best friend, wrapping his arms around his waist before dragging him away.

“Why? Can't I just congratulate noona from recognizing something was off instead of ignoring it like most do? Noona,” He turned to you, bottom lip jutted out. “It's not bad that I'm celebrating right?”

Seokjin’s laugh was nervous when he rose to usher the man away as well. “Alright, let's all calm down so we don't accidentally say something while drunk.”

“Fuck yeah! I-I don’t even know why I even believed his lies, he’s a lawyer for fucks sake!”

“Not that it ever stopped you before. I still don't understand why you couldn't have married one of us instead.” Jungkook cuts in, suddenly irritated.

Somehow, the tension in the room grew tenfold and everyone sits up, alert and ready to interfere if their youngest decides to let the alcohol take control of him. Your brain clears once it registered the annoyance in his voice, heart dropping to the soles of your feet.

“Jungkook—”

“I just think it's a bullshit excuse and you know it. You told that to Jin-hyung four years ago and have repeated it ever since. We’re all adults now, we can handle a little rejection and who’s to say we can’t date when we’re the only idol running the company. You say it's because you don’t want to choose but aren’t you just instilling false hope in us?” 

He stood as he grew more agitated but Jin pushed him down, eyes stern as he stared down at their youngest. Seeing the conflict brew between them, the growing guilt built by years of spending time with them reawakened.

It tied your stomach in a knot and felt like a building had dropped onto your heart.

As if sensing your emotions, Yoongi’s hand found your shoulder to give it a squeeze.

“You’re not thinking straight so stop it,” Jin excuses as he turns to you with an apologetic smile. “He’s just drunk, he doesn’t—”

“I know what I’m saying and I think you’re being too biased here hyung!”

“Jungkook…” Hoseok calls from next to you, voice low, a warning.

“You too! Why aren’t you pointing out how she’s just playing with us? Why are you only calling me out?”

“Because you’re being a stupid drunk right now, Jungkook. Stand down.” Yoongi ordered, voice firm and warning. His arms are crossed as he stared their youngest down but the maknae wasn’t intimidated by it, if anything, the fire in the older man’s eyes only fueled the anger boiling within him.

In years you’ve watched over them, never once has Yoongi scolded their youngest past playful reprimands in Run BTS contents, leaving the lecturing to their oldest and leader. For him to call him out and seeing them grow agitated by each other’s presence, dread loomed over you with your nightmares threatening to come true. 

This isn’t how tonight’s party was supposed to go.

It was supposed to be all about Jungkook, to praise and celebrate his life yet everyone is scolding him.

“Isn’t there anyone who’d agree with me at how absurd all of this is?!” His head snapped at Namjoon who’s watching with a careful eye. “Hyung, surely you can also see it!”

Throughout the exchange, Namjoon had sat back and watched the interaction from the sidelines instead of interfering on the first hint of a fight breaking out. Even when the situation becomes a little aggressive, he stays silent but you don’t doubt that he’d be the first to stand if the disagreement becomes volatile and inching towards physical.

That's what he always has done, observed and let the high rise of emotions eventually tides down to a calm on their own. He's a leader, he's supposed to be fair and to do so, he must first understand both sides before taking action. He also trusts his own team to temper their own ire after years of being together.

But now that he's forced to join the argument, he sighed and stood. Seokjin stepped away as Namjoon approached their youngest with both hands placed on his shoulders to sit him back down. 

Obediently, Jungkook follows.

“While I do see where you’re coming from, I think it's a bit unfair that you’re blaming her for being scared.” Jungkook opens his mouth but a firm shake of Namjoon’s head shuts him up. “Don’t start again. There’s a power imbalance here kid. If her choosing someone could cause a problem, we’d get off scot free but not her. In the eyes of the company, she’s disposable—”

“But she’s not.”

“She is. In their eyes at least. By having her around causing problems for us, she’s nothing but a thorn in their side that they should remove. If she had dated one of us and eventually broke up, it would cause an awkwardness and riff between guys especially if it ended on a bad note and BigHit won't stand for it. You know how important this job is for her, right?”

They stared at each other for a long while, both unrelenting in silence. You all waited with bated breath, Namjoon was the only one who could diffuse the situation and if he fails, then who else could possibly calm the maknae down?

Turning to the clock, you bit your lip at the time.

It was nearing Jungkook's actual birthday, three minutes short before both hands ticked to twelve.

Which meant it would have to start during the denouement of an argument. The thought planting discomfort in your stomach. Such a happy celebration shouldn't be welcomed like this.

In the midst of raised voices and pointing fingers, Taehyung has completely sobered up from where he sat between Jimin’s thighs, staring beady eyed at the situation in his friend’s arms. Sensing your gaze, he turned to you with a sheepish, apologetic smile when Jungkook's heavy sigh broke through the silence.

His head fell to his chest as Namjoon removed his hands from his shoulders yet his eyes remained on their youngest’s hunched form.

“You get what we're trying to say now, do you?”

“Y-yeah…”

“Anything you want to say, gguk?” Namjoon was talking to him like he was a kindergarten teacher and you both were kids who fought on the sandbox for the shovel, warm and understanding but the disappointment in his tone is clear as day.

Jungkook doesn't reply but he shoots up to his feet, surprising Hoseok next to you, with eyes still trained on the floor.

When he did look up to meet your gaze, it was brief and cut off by a deep bow. You reached your hands out, trying to stop him from doing so but Yoongi took one of your hands and pinned them down between his and your thighs.

Jungkook never had to bow for you and it felt wrong seeing him bent down to apologize.

“I-I’m sorry noona, I-–” He trails off.

In his speechlessness in a room full of people who—while understanding where he comes from—stood behind you, he clams up and then in a flash, he’s gone, bolting from the living room and skipping up the stairs. The sound of his heavy footfalls echoing like the clock ticking down to his birthday.

The argument has been dissolved, yet it left a bitter taste on your tongue, it made you feel queasy having everyone back you up without reprimanding you as well. It was true, what Jungkook said. 

Weren't you practically leading them on by not choosing anyone? No matter how unintentional it must be, if he thinks that way then maybe everyone else in the group does, just silently.

You turned to the clock again. A minute closer to the next day.

Frustration made you want to pull your hair out but the long, lithe fingers that have entangled with yours in the middle of it all, forbade you from doing so. As if he could hear the internal debate between logic and emotions, Yoongi gave you a comforting squeeze.

But it didn't feel right, you shouldn't be sitting on your ass while Jungkook blamed himself for expressing his own opinion, sure it was a bit aggressive but you understood his frustration.

“Jungkook!” You called out, rising to your feet to follow him when Yoongi tightened his hold on your wrist and shook his head.

“He needs time to process, leave him be.”

Yet despite this, you shrugged his hold off and followed the youngest’s heavy footfalls upstairs and presumably into his room. You caught onto him in the hallway, with the door to his room opened and half of his body already inside.

“Jungkook, let us talk.”

“I-I don't want to see you right now, noona please.”

The desperation to correct the wrongs gives you a short burst of energy and you catch his wrist.

“Jungkook please, I—”

You heard the joyful chime of the clock downstairs before you heard the sweet jingles of bells.

Then you felt it.

Electric jolts shoot up from your connected hands, waking every cell and your mind awake and you almost keel over from the wave of relieving warmth washing over your body. There’s now a low hum accompanying the bells chiming in the background, the soft harmony between them sending shivers down your spine. 

You've thought of first meetings like those scenes in Hollywood movies where a kaleidoscope of colors explodes behind your eyelids, like fireworks celebrating the precious moment where the protagonists finally meet and fireworks shoot up to the sky. They talked of a brief moment of reprieve from reality, the world slowing down and feeling the most calmed you've ever been with your soulmate in hand.

Like your soul finally recognizing its pair and suddenly, everyone became a blur in the background.

Yet when you stared back at Jungkook's mirrored astonishment, your stomach bottomed out.

Because no way in hell, after all this time, you're soulmates.

TAGLIST: @wildestdreamsblog @canarystwin @prettywheenicry @jmnscutie @sassy-snassy @misuguru @11thenightwemet11 @yoongibaybee @rinkud

[freyaphoria]

Dark Side (Part II)

a/n: Hello after a long time :) Reader finally made the move everyone was waiting for

tw: smut!, knife play, blood, oral(f. receiving) yan!hongjoong, kissing :3, i will edit here later

wc: 3.8k

taglist: @aim-blossom @bambisd0ll @oddracha @peqchplvto @coconutchan @hwxbibi

Not proofread!!!

<- part 1

Another long and dreary day dragged on, one where you felt stuck inside the house, trying to avoid Seonghwa for what seemed like an eternity. For days now, you had managed to keep your distance from him, the two of you only crossing paths during meals. You had settled into a routine where silence filled the spaces between you, and today, that was about to be interrupted.

As you wandered through the house, you stumbled upon Seonghwa emerging from the bathroom, and your heart dropped at the sight. His body was marked with bruises and cuts, evidence that Hongjoong had chosen to punish him the night before. It all suddenly clicked in your mind — yesterday, Hongjoong had kept his distance from you, likely focused on dealing with Seonghwa. But why would he punish him? Nothing exciting has happened lately and no one has broken the rules - except for the secret incident between you and Seonghwa.

Right, Hongjoong should have found out about that. But you didn’t know why he didn’t come to punish you as well, maybe he found Seonghwa’s punishment enough.

Seonghwa hurried into his room the moment he saw you, almost as if he wanted to hide away from you. The minutes ticked by, and with lunchtime approaching, you found it strange that he hadn’t begun to make anything to eat. Puzzled by his silence, you decided to head to the kitchen for a snack. As you reached for something to munch on, the atmosphere shifted sharply. Seonghwa burst out of his room, looking furious, his face twisted in anger. He stormed into the kitchen, and without a word, yanked a knife from the drawer right in front of you. The loud snap of the drawer slamming shut made you jump, and at that moment, your reflection in the shiny blade caught your eye. You could see the fear etched on your face, a reaction to the suddenness of his actions. The tension in the air was thick, leaving you feeling uncertain about what would happen next. His eyes were completely blank, like two dull mirrors reflecting nothing but emptiness, and you had never seen him look so cold and unfeeling before. A chill ran down your spine as you realized how angry he seemed, and for a moment, fear gripped you tightly. It felt as if he might actually stab you with the knife he was holding because of something you had said or done that had clearly upset him.

“Hwa, what are you doing?” you managed to say, your voice trembling. You instinctively stepped back as he began to walk toward you, the knife firmly in his grip. It was pointed directly at you, though he wasn't raising it aggressively; it almost felt like the knife was simply gliding toward you, its sharp tip aimed in your direction. He approached with an expressionless face, and as he drew closer, you instinctively raised your hands in the air, trying to signal him to stop. “Hwa, I’m sorry. Please forgive me, I will never trying to run away.” you blurted out, your voice trembling slightly.

He tilted his head slightly to the right, looking at you with a hint of confusion. “What are you talking about?” he asked, his brows furrowing slightly. It was the first time in two long days that you had heard his soothing voice, which was soft yet deep. The tension hung in the air as you hesitated before speaking again. “Aren’t you going to stab me?” you managed to say, your hands still shaking from nerves. He shook his head, a slight smile creeping onto his lips. “Why would I stab you? I’m not that crazy.” You remained glued to your seat, eyes locked on the knife as he continued to walk past you on your right. Without another word, he headed upstairs, leaving you feeling a swirl of emotions in the silence that followed.

Of course he wouldn’t stab you. How could you even think that? The Seonghwa you knew was not the type of person who would ever hurt you. Yes, he hurt you, but it was your fault. But then why did he have a knife? What could he possibly need a knife for at a time like this?

The only reason you could think of for him to go into his room with a large knife, especially when he was in such a bad mood-

Instinctively, you ran up the stairs, your heart racing, and you began pounding on his door. “Seonghwa! What are you doing? Open the door!” you called out, your voice filled with worry. But there was no answer. Panic started to set in as you hammered at the door even harder. You tried to twist the doorknob, but it was locked tight, making your frustration grow. In a rush of adrenaline, you threw your weight against the door, nearly stumbling forward when Seonghwa finally opened it. He caught you just in time, and you found your balance while looking up at him. His expression was a mix of confusion and irritation. “What are you doing?! Why are you trying to break my door?” he asked, clearly surprised. You took a moment to catch your breath, letting your eyes wander down his arms and then scanning him from head to toe.

“What were you doing with the knife?” you asked, your voice laced with concern. Seonghwa let out a sarcastic breath, clearly annoyed by your question. As he stepped aside and let you see into his room, you noticed a huge Lego set sitting there that Hongjoong had given him earlier. “I couldn’t open the box, so I used a knife. What, did you think I was going to commit suicide or something?” he replied, rolling his eyes. It was a really big box, and now it made sense that he would need a knife to get it open. You felt a wave of relief wash over you, realizing that your worries might have been a bit over the top, but it didn’t stop your heart from racing just moments before. You nodded your head slightly, feeling a mix of frustration and confusion. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not going to commit suicide just because Hongjoong beat me up a little. He’s done that before. He beat me up too when I slept with you, and honestly, I didn’t care. You should remember that you’re mine as much as you’re his. That means I can do whatever I want with you, and he can’t interfere.”

Seonghwa turned his attention back to the Lego set on the table, opening the box and letting the pieces spill out. “What do you mean I’m yours as much as I am Hongjoong’s? I am not his.”

Seonghwa glanced up at you, “Whether you like it or not, you're his, I am his, we both belong to him.” he said casually, focusing on the colorful bricks now scattered around. “But if I belong to you as much as I belong to him, why was he so angry "that" day?” you pressed, trying to piece everything together.

“Because he wanted to be the first to touch you,” Seonghwa explained, his fingers deftly sorting through the Lego bags. “I promised him I wouldn’t touch you until he said it was okay. But I broke my promise and went ahead, which is why he got so mad.” Now, it started to make sense to you. This was all about Hongjoong’s twisted need for control, a sort of corruption kink that made everything so much more complicated.

“Angel, I’m really sorry I hurt you,” Seonghwa said, turning to face you earnestly. “I got really angry for a moment and just blew up at you. When I saw you running outside, I thought I would lose you forever. I know it’s going to be hard for you to forgive me, but I-”

You silenced him with a kiss. The wound on his lower lip that was about to close, opened up and you both tasted blood in your mouths. Seonghwa was shocked and didn't know what to do at first, and after a while, he returned your kiss. When his hands reached your waist, you pulled him closer to you, tangling your hands in his long hair. You had missed him so much these past two days, which was why your emotions were so intense right now. Your teeth chattered together and a thin moan escaped your throat as you tasted the blood more intensely. When you separated yourself from him and looked at his lip, you saw that the blood was flowing more and was about to drip from his lip. You wanted to taste it, so you stuck your tongue out and licked his lower plump lip. The iron-like taste of blood had awakened all the signals in your body and you wanted more. It was obvious that he was holding himself back, his body was tense and his kisses were light, as if they could leave your lips at any moment and disappear forever.

You pushed him back and he sat on the bed. His cheeks were red, his lips were swollen and there were a few traces of blood on his chin. His hair was messy from running your hands through it and he looked so beautiful like this. At that moment you understood Hongjoong’s obsession with Seonghwa. The only thing you and Hongjoong had in common was that you both found Seonghwa desirable and attractive, beautiful.

You climbed onto his lap and looked down at his face. If you hadn't met in this hell and hadn't formed a victim bond with each other, what would it be like if you met normally? Would you go on lego dates like you do at home? Would you talk about your day in a cute little cafe while admiring each other? You would hate Hongjoong for the rest of your life for taking these beautiful opportunities away from you.

Seonghwa’s hands slowly caressed your waist as he looked at your face. Someone as beautiful as you doesn’t deserve to be in this pit, he thought. He too would hate himself for the rest of his life for telling Hongjoong to kidnap you instead of killing you. You grabbed the sides of his face with both hands and pulled his head closer to yours, and you took a closer look at the bruises on his face. It was all because of you, Hongjoong hadn’t shown any mercy and had painted the most beautiful and godly face you had ever seen in your life in purple and red.

You felt him start to harden as you settled into his lap a little more until you were fully seated. Even with such little intimacy, he was getting hard, how cute. "Angel-" Just as you were about to kiss him on the lips one last time and lift his shirt by grabbing both sides to take it off, he stopped you. “We shouldn't do this." You heard him but you pretended not to hear him. Yes, you had to do it, you felt like something was left unfinished and now you were going to complete it.

You freed your hands from his hands that were stopping you, grabbed his shirt again, and this time you took it off in one move. His body was covered in bruises and scrapes. It didn't look too bad, but it looked like it would hurt. "Hwa, please." You pleaded with him as the lust that was growing inside you grew stronger and stronger.

Unable to hold back any longer, he took you off his lap and laid you down on the bed. You helped him and placed yourself comfortably on the bed. You rubbed your legs together to feel some friction as your hands roamed over his naked upper body. When he took off your tank top in one move, you weren’t wearing a bra, and the cold air made you shiver. You were getting wetter and you tried to take off your shorts to remove your panties that were stuck to your pussy with your wetness as Seonghwa leaned towards you and kissed a line from your collarbone to your tits. With one hand, you were able to take off your shorts while Seonghwa was on top of you, but your panties were still on.

"Wait I have a better idea." He pulled his warm and wet kisses from your neck and got up from the bed and went to his desk. You shivered as the warmth of his body disappeared, trying to understand what he was doing until you saw the knife in his hand. Just as you were about to ask him what he was going to do, he got on top of you again and started dragging the knife over your body. You knew he wouldn't hurt you, but your heart was still pounding with excitement and curiosity.

He first moved the sharp blade around your neck, then your collarbones, and the places he kissed. You squirmed as he moved the knife over your body. The cold metal blade was cooling your hot body that was filled with adrenaline, making you shiver. “Are you okay with this?" His big round eyes were looking at you with curiosity and desire. He wouldn't do anything you didn't want him to do. "Yeah Hwa I'm sure, please so something” You couldn't control yourself anymore, you wanted your throbbing pussy to be filled with his long, thick cock that completed you like a puzzle piece. With your approval, the knife moved harder over your left tit, creating a slight cut. The subtle sensation of pain had made your nipples harden and erect. When you moaned in subtle pain, pleasure felt like an electric shock shot from Seonghwa’s cock to his brain.

Your gently flowing blood reflected off the sunlight and was on display for Seonghwa to taste. When he leaned down and ran his tongue over your tit and tasted your blood, he completely let himself go as if his entire brain had shut down. The thought of “Hongjoong” was erased from his mind at that moment, he didn’t care if he caught him, he didn’t care if he was beaten for hours again. At that moment it was just you.

As Seonghwa finished tasting your blood and ran the knife over your body again, your eyes caught the large bruise on his stomach, or rather the bruise that was starting to turn black. It looked like it would hurt if you touched it. “Doesn't your body hurt?" He was a little upset that you reminded him of Hongjoong again, but he didn’t show it. “It hurts, but I like pain, so it doesn't bother me." He moved the knife across your other breast and down to your belly. "You're a freak." You chuckled. “The person who called me a freak is currently soaking wet from having a knife dragged across her body. Who's more of a freak in this situation?" He was right, you were embarrassingly wet right now, but he was also embarrassingly hard. You were both equal. “I think both of us. Now can you fuck me without teasing me any more?" He chuckled at you and ran the handle of the knife along your panties, the place you wanted him to touch most. The handle of the knife was shining with your wetness because your wetness had made your panties completely wet. Your hands were on his shoulders, tugging at him as if you wanted him to do. He stopped teasing you and cut your panties with a knife, revealing your pussy dripping with wetness. You were a little embarrassed by his sudden move, so you closed your legs and tried to hide yourself.

"Why are you trying to hide yourself? You're the one who just said fuck me. Now open your legs before I force them open, Angel." You slowly opened your legs and Seonghwa took the cut piece of fabric from under you and threw it on the floor. He was making small cuts on your thighs, small cuts that weren’t too deep. He licked every last drop of blood from each of them and lifted your chin with the sharp end of the knife so that you could look him in the eye. There was a lust and depth in his eyes that you had never seen before.

He pulled the knife from your jaw and brought it to a place you couldn’t see, you couldn’t see what he was doing. You moaned loudly the moment you felt the handle of the knife against your folds. It wasn’t the first time he had seen you, but it was the first time you had been intimate together alone at home, and there was no reason for either of you to be quiet or hold back.

You hadn't expected to feel the knife in your folds, you were so lost in his eyes that you were surprised by something hard and cold you suddenly felt. While the blunt handle was running along your folds, spreading your wetness everywhere, Seonghwa’s hand, which was holding the sharp part of the knife, was cut a little and blood started to flow from the blade to your pussy. Your brains were foggy as you both moaned in pleasure. The more his blood mixed with your wetness, the more Seonghwa wanted to taste you. He was holding himself back so much that he could come in his pants at any moment. He pulled the knife and leaned down, sticking his tongue into you. The warm and wet you, combined with the iron taste of his own blood, triggered all the taste buds on his tongue. The feeling of his long, thick tongue licking your pussy along a long line sent shivers down your spine. Wanting more, you wanted to lift your hips and move closer to him, but he held you down and pressed you back into the bed.

"Don't be impatient Angel." His hot breath made you shiver as he spoke. You tangled your hands in his hair, wrapping strands around your hands as you writhed and whimpered. His hair was very long and the perfect length for you to hold. As he was still losing between your legs, you noticed the knife lying next to the bed, covered in your wetness.

You reached out and grabbed the knife, and the action caught Seonghwa’s attention. “Careful, it's sharp." He pulled back to speak, even though he didn’t want to take his tongue off your warm pussy for even a second. Even in this situation, thinking about you made your heart, which was already beating rapidly from pleasure, beat even more. He leaned down one last time and kissed your thighs with great desire before moving to your lips. The moment he approached you, you brought the knife closer to his neck and looked at him playfully, not holding it too close to his neck because you were afraid of accidentally hurting him. He chuckled at you and took the knife from your hand. “I’m the only one here who can play with a knife, you don’t even know how to hold one.” Just as you were about to protest, he silenced you with a wet kiss. You moaned and wrapped your legs around his waist when you tasted yourself in his mouth. He was kissing you so professionally, it was like he did this every day.

You tried to reach for his sweatpants with your hands. He realized what you wanted and pulled back. “Angel, do you really want this?” His eyelids were halfway down as his tone of voice got deeper. His cheeks and lips were flushed, his hair was messy, was out of breath and looked so beautiful, so breathtaking like this, you could freeze in this moment for the rest of your life. “Seonghwa, if you wait a little longer, Hongjoong will come home. So hurry up."

With your approval, he immediately took off his sweatpants and boxers. His already hard cock came out freely as there was no obstacle to hold it back. You reached out to feel him in your hand. As his fingers were running along your entrance, you both turned your heads in panic when you heard a sudden voice coming from the doorway.

”Park fucking Seonghwa, I'll give you 5 seconds to put your fucking dick back where it belongs and wait for me on your knees in our room.” As you were pulling away from each other, Seonghwa grabbed the blanket that had been rolled up next to his bed and threw it over you, and you hurriedly covered yourself but Hongjoong stopped your hands that were clumsily trying to hide yourselves.

“You’ve overstepped your limits this time. I was patient enough with you, but that's not how you train a slut.” When he suddenly pulled the blanket off you, you were left completely exposed. "Hong-" "Shut your fucking mouth. Seonghwa, are you still here?" When Seonghwa got scared and walked away from the room, you and Hongjoong were left alone. As Hongjoong continued to look at you like you had just done the worst thing in the world, you did something neither of you expected: you grabbed his collar and pulled him towards you. Either you did this in the heat of the moment or Hongjoong fed you a drug without you realizing it, you didn’t know but Hongjoong felt very attractive at that moment. When your lips met his, it didn’t matter if you were kissing Hongjoong to calm him down or if you were actually doing it to kiss him. But you were sure that you had calmed him down, from the blush on his cheeks as you pulled away from his lips.

[s0ftpixels]

˗ˏˋ art deco ࿐ྂ "you're not mean, you're just born to be seen"

summary: kokonoi hajime unwillingly has front-row seats to sano "mikey" manjiro's descent into darkness and now he unknowingly watches the start of a new obsession with something a lot prettier that owns one too many mini skirts

pairing(s): kanto!mikey x f!reader

notes: told through koko's eyes and the beginning of yandere!mikey and pre-bonten. heart divider by cafekitsune

warnings: canon typical violence, mentions of weapons, mentions of murder, implied mental health issues, slight bimbo!reader, suggestive themes, mentioned voyeurism, obsession, future yandere(?), not edited we die like my potential

word count: 1690

Sano “Mikey” Manjiro was no longer the man he used to be. Perhaps after killing a bunch of people, part of him had gone numb. Or maybe most of him. He doesn’t feel the same way anymore and it’s clear to everyone around him. His black Toman jacket had been long changed to white and he’s got an appointment with a tattoo artist soon. Kokonoi wonders when it will be his turn to get tattooed next. He wonders when the matching jackets will be changed to suits and their flimsy pipes and bats will be replaced with guns. Kokonoi isn’t sure if he’s looking forward to it or not. Many things have changed quickly and so has Mikey. 

Kokonoi Hajime accidentally got front-row seats to Sano “Mikey” Manjiro’s plunge into darkness and it’s not something very fun to watch especially since nothing he does can get the latter out of it. It was almost like Mikey wanted to burn. Like he enjoyed it. Kokonoi Hajime glanced up from his laptop, the soft glow of the screen illuminating his tired eyes. The rain outside pelted the floor-to-ceiling windows, a rhythmic drumming that filled the otherwise silent penthouse. Mikey stood motionless, staring out into the storm as if it held answers to the questions he never voiced. Kokonoi had grown used to this silence, the heavy, unspoken tension that seemed to hang over them like a dark cloud. “Mikey— Oh hi Koko!”

Maybe the only thing stopping Mikey from fully going crazy was you and your damn mini-skirt. You twirl into the room with that infectious energy of yours, your sneakers tapping against the marble floor. The rain pattering against the windows is almost drowned out by your cheerful presence. You greet Kokonoi with a bright smile, your eyes sparkling with a naivety that seems out of place in the world of the Kanto Manji Gang— in Sano “Mikey” Manjiro’s world. “Hi Koko!” you repeat, a playful lilt in your voice

Kokonoi can’t help but crack a small smile at your enthusiasm, the glitter in the inner corners of your eyes shining under the artificial light. You always manage to bring a bit of light into these dark times, even if you don’t fully understand the shadows lurking around you. Mikey, however, doesn’t move. His gaze remains fixed on the storm outside, his reflection a ghostly figure in the glass. Kokonoi watches him, the unease gnawing at him. Mikey's transformation from the once lively, mischievous leader of Tokyo Manji Gang to this silent, brooding figure of Kanto Manji Gang is unsettling. You flounce over to Mikey, your hips swaying with each step. You wrap your arms around him from behind, resting your cheek against his back. “Mikey, come on. You promised we’d watch a movie tonight” you whine, trying to coax him away from the window, glossy lips shifting into a pout

Mikey finally shifts, his shoulders relaxing slightly at your touch. He turns around, and for a moment, Kokonoi catches a glimpse of the old Mikey in the way his dark eyes soften when he looks at you. “Yeah, I did, didn’t I?” he says, his voice a low rumble.

Honestly speaking, in Kokonoi’s opinion, you were kind of a bimbo— in some sense that is. You were top of your class with the goal of getting into law school but here you were in a damn mini skirt, your bruised knees knocking against Sano Manjiro who is a literal fucking criminal. Maybe you have one of those weird fantasies of representing your criminal boyfriend in court. The problem with that though is you and Manjiro weren’t together. You were just a pretty distraction, someone who brought a flicker of life into Mikey’s darkened world, a role you played with such unknowing perfection that even Kokonoi found it admirable. The darkness that enveloped Mikey was thick, suffocating, but you… you seemed to be the only one who could penetrate it, if only slightly with your stupid mini skirt that hugged your hips and thighs so well. “Not feeling it?” You ask him innocently, the tips of your white sneakers knocking against his boots

Maybe you were a little stupid but other than academic smarts, you were emotionally smart too. You didn’t realize just who you were hanging around and what the penthouse you waltzed into was but you knew when Sano “Mikey” Manjiro wasn’t feeling well. Kokonoi admires that because he as well as the other top members of Kanto Manji Gang were yet to figure out Mikey’s emotions. “Not really” Mikey says, his fingers curl around your hip in an almost possessive manner, pulling you closer to him. 

Kokonoi watches the exchange, feeling a pang of jealousy mixed with something he can't quite place. Maybe it's envy at your ability to reach Mikey in a way he can't, or perhaps it's frustration at Mikey's apparent detachment from everyone else. Kokonoi watches you wrap your arms around Mikey’s neck. The contrast between Mikey’s brooding presence and your bubbly aura is almost comical, like a scene from a twisted romantic comedy. Kokonoi can’t help but shake his head at the irony of it all. “What’s wrong, Mikey?” you ask softly, your voice laced with genuine worry.

Mikey’s gaze softens as he looks down at you, his thumb brushing against your cheekbone. “Nothing you need to worry about, sweetheart” he murmurs, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead.

Kokonoi watches the exchange, feeling a twinge of envy mixed with a hint of admiration. Despite everything, Mikey still had the ability to care for someone, even if it was in his own twisted way. You pout slightly, not satisfied with his vague answer. “But I do worry about you, Mikey. You know that,” you insist, your well-manicured fingers intertwining with his bruised fingers.

A small, almost invisible smile tugs at the corners of Mikey’s lips. “I know, babe. And I appreciate it” he says, sincerity ringing in his voice. 

He leans down to press a lingering kiss to your lips, a silent promise of reassurance. Kokonoi can’t help but feel a pang of jealousy at the intimacy between you and Mikey. It’s not that he harbours any romantic feelings for Mikey himself, but rather he envies the connection you two share, a connection that seems to elude him in this world of darkness and violence. As you pull away from the kiss, a bright smile graces your lips once more. Your lip gloss is now transferred onto Mikey’s lips and he doesn’t seem to mind as he licks up the artificial taste, his eyes never leaving yours as he does. It was weird though— You and Mikey weren’t dating but you still kissed and cuddled and did other things like normal couples did. Mikey called you sweetheart, babe, baby, doll, angel and any other sweet endearment his tainted mind could think of but you both weren’t dating. You both aren’t dating but Kokonoi knows the bruises on your knees are from when Mikey’s got you on the floor between his legs and the scratches on Mikey’s back are from you being pinned beneath him. “I’ve been a little stressed though. Come help me out?” Mikey says to you, thumb rubbing away some of the lipgloss that smeared onto your chin when he kissed you

Kokonoi can imagine it clearly— you down on your knees on the hardwood floor in front of Mikey, your pretty eyes wide and watery with drool running down your chin and mascara smudged; your stupid mini skirt hiked up around your hips as Mikey made you take it. “Hm, m’kay” You answer a little too innocently for what Mikey was suggesting at

As Mikey guides you to another room in the penthouse, he looks over his shoulder. “Koko, make sure no one disturbs us”

“Got it boss” He answers, trying to sound as apathetic as possible

The lock on the door clicks and Kokonoi is already scrambling to find his headphones. He’s been a victim of getting hard off listening to your breathy moans and helpless whimpers too many times already and he’s still got work to do. Kokonoi wasn’t a huge fan of being a voyeur like the rest of the sickos and perverts Mikey let into Kanto Manji Gang after all. He barely gets his headphones in when he hears a breathy groan come from the other side of the locked door. He tries to focus on his work, to lose himself in the lines of code scrolling across the screen, but his mind keeps drifting back to the scene unfolding behind the locked door. He can almost picture it—the way you kneel before Mikey, your eyes wide with anticipation, your lips parted in a silent plea. He can hear the soft rustle of fabric as Mikey guides you, his voice low and commanding. It’s a scene that plays out in his mind with disturbing clarity, one that he wishes he could erase but finds himself unable to look away from.

Kokonoi Hajime unwillingly has front-row seats to Sano “Mikey” Manjiro’s descent into darkness. But it seems he’s watching an obsession grow as well. 

An obsession that owns too many mini skirts and with a smile as bright as the sun. 

Kokonoi wonders how long it will take for that obsession to grow into something unhealthy and something that starts to hurt you. But even as he wonders, a part of him knows that he’ll be there to witness it all. Because in this world of darkness and violence, there are few constants, and Kokonoi has unwittingly become one of them. So he continues to work, his fingers flying across the keyboard as he loses himself in the safety of his own little world, a world far removed from the chaos that surrounds him.

As the night wears on and the sounds from the other room grow louder, Kokonoi can’t help but feel a sense of resignation settle over him. Because in the end, he knows that you’re just as trapped as the rest of them, prisoners of their own making in a world where darkness reigns supreme.

[yuyusgirlie]

teacher boo

teacher!seungkwan x teacher!reader

wc: 1.2k

content: drama teacher seungkwan, history teacher reader, fluff, being a teacher is hard, not edited lmk if you notice mistakes lol

“Miss why can’t I just use MLA citation, doing this whole new thing feels so useless.” You stare at this student with all the thought you can muster, which admittedly is not a lot, and just sigh. 

It’s Thursday afternoon, the class is restless, and you have to teach the kids how to do Chicago citations because lord forbid you have to read another essay with MLA citations. “Listen, Chicago is what we use in history, I am just trying to make yours and everyone’s lives easier. It’s not that ha-” “Bro I’m not even going into history I don’t need to learn this.” 

Once the first student cuts off your explanation, mayhem breaks loose in the classroom. Three kids close their laptops and sneak on to their phones, about five students swarm you at the front of the class with all their specific questions regarding the concept of footnotes, and two kids in the back decided now was a good time to argue about the homework for their next class. 

You try to get the students back in their seats to address the class when you hear a booming voice get everyone’s attention. 

“HEY. IN YOUR SEATS. NOW.” 

You jump slightly at the loud intrusion into your classroom as you look up at the man now standing by your door. You were never more thankful for a certain Mr. Boo having a prep just around the corner from your classroom. 

The students, just as startled by the intrusion as you were, if not more afraid, quickly sat in their seats and looked up at the door as Mr. Boo began walking into the room. 

“Do you know how far I can hear all of your voices travel? I heard Adam’s voice from the drama room.” Adam tries to avoid Mr. Boo’s eye contact even though he is now standing right before him now, leaning against the ledge of the blackboard next to you. 

“Why do you children only know how to project when it is from Ms.____’s room and not from the stage in my class?” Seungkwan asks the question to a room of students who refuse to meet his gaze. Enjoying the peace for a moment as your headache continues to linger you sort out the papers you were going to hand out to the kids before the hoard of questions started to hit. 

“Stop being mean to your very nice teacher, make her life a little easier. Stop yelling.” The statement once again sits in a guilty silence as Seungkwan’s gaze then moves to you for a moment. He gives you a quick smile which you return before he puts down a note on your desk as he moves to the door. “If I hear the yelling again I won’t be as nice the next time!” He says walking out the door. 

As the silence in the room remains for a few more moments, you take in a deep breath and sigh, hoping that this guilt will last for at least another half an hour so you can get through the last bit of your lesson before the bell rings. 

After a few more manageable interruptions and enough quiet to explain the rest of your lesson, the bell rang with the students having a rough understanding of Chicago citations. Students begin to file out of your class, some waving to you goodbye, others apologizing for being disruptive during the class. They may often be a pain, but at the end of the day your classes were mostly very lovely. 

You finally sit down at your desk in an empty room with only the sound of the air conditioner filling the space. You look out the window for a moment, collecting your thoughts and decompressing from the busy day before picking up the note dropped off by Mr. Boo. 

You unfold it to see a small doodle of a tangerine and a heart, filling your chest with a sense of warmth and calm. Teaching isn’t easy, especially when the students are so demanding day in and day out, but knowing that your boyfriend and best friend is around the corner on the toughest days helps. 

Just as you fold the paper up again you see a head peak into your room, “No students staying back for extra help today, Ms.___________?” 

“Not today Mr. Boo,” you say with a smile as you move to gather some of your stuff into your bag. “Are you all packed up?” 

“Ready as ever, just need to pick up one more thing and I’m good to go!” 

“Oh?” You look at him with a raised eyebrow, zipping up your bag about to put it on your back. As you swing it over your shoulder, Seungkwan catches the strap of your bag, pulling it off you and into his hands. 

“There we go, got it, let’s go!” He says with a smirk, leading the way out of your class. 

With a soft laugh you follow him out the door, closing the lights and locking the door before heading towards the staff parking lot. You see some students lingering around on the school field and around the parking lot, hanging out with their friends on the Friday afternoon. 

“Do you think the kids know about us?” You ask as you open the passenger door to Seungkwan’s car. 

You both get in the car and sit there for a moment, taking in the quiet away from the school space for the first time this afternoon. 

“I’ll be honest love, I don’t know what these kids know or what they don’t know. Do you not want them to know?” 

You think about the question for a moment as you begin your drive home. “No I don’t mind if they know.” 

“Well then I can get on the announcements come Monday and tell ev-” “Seungkwan no.” 

You both laugh, “I just wonder what they would think.” 

Seungkwan looks over at you as he makes the routine drive home and reaches out to hold your hand that sits on your knee. He laces his fingers through yours and brings your hand to his mouth for a kiss. 

“I’m sure they would think we’re the cutest couple in the school.” He says smiling against your hand before giving it another kiss. “To be honest they probably already know.” 

“What do you mean? You just said earlier you don’t know if they know?” 

“Well if they were smarter and worked on their critical thinking skills maybe they would know.” 

“How would they know?” 

“Because every school-wide assembly I can never take my eyes off of you.”

You nudge Seungkwan’s shoulder as he lets out a loving laugh, making the final turn to pull up to your building’s parking lot. Once the car is parked he looks over at you in the comfortable silence, his hand reaching over to put a piece of hair behind your ear. 

“Regardless of what they know now, they’ll know eventually.” 

“Are you going to tell them?” 

“I won’t have to, not when you show up one year as Mrs. Boo.” 

[yunaversalluv]

⋆.˚ ★— Focus Pull

ᴀ ɪɴᴅɪᴇ ᴍᴜꜱɪᴄɪᴀɴ!ᴇʟʟɪᴇ x ᴄᴏɴᴄᴇʀɴᴛ ᴘʜᴏᴛᴏɢʀᴀᴘʜᴇʀ!ꜰᴇᴍ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

⋆.˚ ★— Focus Pull m.list

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ `౨ৎ~

Weeks after a single photo changes everything, silence lingers where connection once sparked. When a message finally comes through, two people meet again — not in the spotlight, but in the quiet, where honesty has room to breathe and something unspoken waits just beneath the surface.

cw for this chapter// fame/internet virality anxiety, emotional vulnerability, implied anxiety/insomnia, mild language, intense emotional tension

please know that there might be spelling errors!

taglist - @miajooz @talyaisvalslutsoldier @lesoulew @elliespotion @valeisaslut @mariesmagix @eriiwaiii2 @liztreez @re1daway @wrappedinvines

CHAPTER THREE - STATIC

It’s been weeks.

Weeks since the photo.

Weeks since your inbox cracked open like a floodgate, spilling over with messages you weren’t prepared for. 

Since your name became tethered to the sound of a voice you’d only just heard live for the first time. Since your art — the quiet, low-lit kind that lives in the edges of the frame, always watching but never watched — was suddenly thrust, howling, into the blinding spotlight of an internet that never asked your permission. The internet hasn’t let go of her. Or of you

. That image of Ellie — raw, beautiful — is everywhere now. People have torn it apart, picked it clean, rebuilt a thousand versions of her with their words, their filters, their projections. They turned her into a symbol, a scream, a shrine.

And still — silence.

Ellie’s message remains buried in your inbox like a landmine, humming with potential. Ellie:Why were you staring so long?You’d replied quickly. Too quickly, maybe. You:You looked like you wanted the camera to flinch.Her response came fast, like a spark across dry leaves. Ellie:It didn’t.You didn’t.

You guys texted and texted. But nothing progressed.

After a pattern had started to form — you two texting… nothing. Not the next day. Not for weeks.

You kept shooting, of course. The show must go on. Different venues, different nights. Your lens clicking away, mechanical and steady, trying to recapture something you couldn’t quite name. But none of it felt the same.

Every frame since that photo felt like a second draft of something that had already lived and died in a single shutter click.

You could almost hear the difference — the static that filled the silence between you and that one perfect moment.

And Ellie? She hasn’t reached out again. You told yourself it was fine. You didn’t need her to. But the truth? The truth is sharp. It lingers in the corners of your mind like a splinter you can’t reach.

The truth is: you’ve been checking. Not obsessively. Not every minute.Just enough. Her page. Your inbox. That still-open thread. Enough to feel the quiet ache of it.

Across the city, Ellie hasn’t slept.

Not really.

She’s tried. Her pillows sag beneath her head like wet paper. The static from a half-muted TV glows in the corner, washing the walls in flickering gray-blue light. Her guitar lays across her ribs like a shield, or a secret — its weight more comforting than the silence.

The same four chords, over and over. Muted strings beneath her fingers until they ache. But sleep? It’s distant. Sharp-edged and glassy, hovering just beyond her reach.

It’s hard to sleep when the internet won’t stop dragging your name like a body on fire — pulled through dirt, through pixels, through the acid commentary of strangers who think they know you because they saw your eyes in one unguarded second. Her phone buzzes again. This time it’s on the floor beside the bed. The sound slices through the quiet like a knife.

She doesn’t want to look. But her hand moves anyway. Another edit of the photo.

The one where her eyes are too wide, too knowing. Locked on the lens with something feral. Animal. Raw.

Her skin crawls just looking at it. Her chest tightens, ribs aching from the inside like something’s trying to claw its way out. She scrolls. She shouldn’t. But she does.

Captions like: “bite me pls queen”“holy rage incarnate”“this is what heartbreak sounds like if it grew teeth.”

And nestled among the noise, one sticks:

@mossandmercury: “Caption this: I want you to see me, but only how I say.”

Ellie reads it twice.

Doesn’t like how much it sticks.

Doesn’t like how true it feels — how closely it echoes the thing she’s been carrying since your lens found her. Since you saw her. Really saw her.

She tosses the phone aside. The screen still glows, a blue halo in the dark.

The room smells like dust and stolen motel soap. Light cuts through the blinds in jagged, white-hot interrogation lines, slashing across her feet, across her thoughts.

The kettle moans from the counter — a tired, wounded sound, like it’s straining under its own weight.

Ellie drifts toward the kitchenette. Shoulders tense. Bare feet whispering across cold tile. Her thumb hovers. Your profile sits open — too intimate, too exposed, like a journal she shouldn’t be reading.

She scrolls through your feed.

No selfies. No poses.

Just light and texture. Grainy film. Half-silhouettes paused in motion. Moments that feel stolen, not staged. Honest. Quiet. A kind of truth no one demands — but one you offer anyway. A single line in your bio:

low light makes me honest.

Whatever that means.

But it fits. It fits her. It fits you — or at least the version of you that saw her clearly enough to haunt her still.

She swipes to the DM thread. Still open. Still pulsing like a bruise. Weeks old now. Still fresh. Ellie types slowly, deliberately. Each word a weight.

you free tonight

Her thumb hovers. Then — send.

She sets the phone face-down on the bed like it might burn through her if she stares too long.

The kettle screams. And her chest — tight, coiled like piano wire — doesn’t loosen.

Not fear.

Not nerves.

Just that low, restless thrum again. Like something’s about to change.

Back in your apartment, the message arrives mid-edit.

you free tonight

No punctuation. No context. Just three words.

Your stomach flips. You sit back in your chair. The world seems to fold inward — the hum of the computer, the distant sound of traffic. Coffee long gone cold beside you. Your screen mid-swipe on someone else’s face — someone who isn’t her — already forgotten.

You type: Depends. You planning on killing me, or thanking me?

The reply is instant.

Ellie:That depends.Can you meet me where no one’s watching?

The room feels like it’s holding its breath.

Ellie’s apartment — if it counts as one — is small.

Lived-in. Quiet. Cozy in a way that feels fragile, like one wrong move could scatter the spell.

Dim lamplight pools across the floor in soft amber, stretching long shadows across her carpet. The air smells faintly of coffee grounds and something sweet that’s long since cooled. It smells like mornings she hasn’t had in weeks.

It’s just the two of you.

A bubble untouched by the noise outside.

She’s on the couch — threadbare and familiar — her guitar resting on the arm like a sentinel. Her fingers trace the strings without sound, muscle memory moving in loops. Her knee bounces, betraying the calm her face is trying to wear.

You sit across from her. The distance between you: too much for comfort, too little for certainty.

Neither of you speaks. There’s too much to say. Neither of you knows where to begin.

You glance at her. Catch her eyes. She looks away. You wonder if she feels it too — that slow, magnetic pull drawing you closer and holding you apart all at once.

The air feels heavy. Charged. Like if you speak too loud, it might all fall apart. Say nothing, and it might disappear.

Ellie shifts. Her fingers ghost along the guitar’s neck, her gaze unfocused. “You’ve… been quiet,” she says finally. Her voice is low, like it doesn’t want to wake the moment.

You swallow. “I was just thinking. About everything, I guess.” She nods. Her lips part, then close again. She leans back, posture curling inward. There’s a softness to her now — not weakness, but vulnerability. A space opening.

“I didn’t ask for all this,” she says. Tight. “It’s… weird, you know? Being seen like that. By everyone. By you.” She stops. Her fingers pause on the guitar. The strings hum beneath her touch, low and uneven.

You watch her — the tension in her throat, the conflict in her eyes. She’s holding something back. Fear. Hope. You’re not sure which.

“I didn’t mean to make it feel so…” You search for the right shape. “So personal.”

Her eyes meet yours. And for a moment, it’s there — the weight of it. The gravity.

But neither of you moves. Not yet.

“I don’t think I mind,” you admit. Your voice is soft, but steady. Honest.

Ellie’s breath catches. The world stills. Her eyes soften — just enough to crack your composure.

“You’ve been… on my mind,” she says. Her voice is thin, trembling. “A lot. Since the photo.”

Your heartbeat stumbles. “Mine too.”

She watches you — unreadable. Then: a small, shy smile. Not quite reaching her eyes. But real.

“Yeah?” she murmurs, like she’s asking for permission to believe it.

You nod. Slowly.

The room seems to exhale.

She shifts — closer now. Just enough. Enough to feel her presence like static in the air, like heat building beneath the skin.

Her hand brushes yours. You both freeze. The silence between you blooms with electricity.

Then, quietly — “I don’t know what happens now.”

You smile, gentle. “I don’t either.”

But the way she looks at you — the way her eyes linger — says everything else.

There’s something here. You’re both reaching for it. Even if you can’t name it yet.

The heaviness hasn’t gone. But it’s not all weight now.

It feels like a promise.

And maybe, just maybe — That’s enough for now.

[multiwreckedmess]

[1:06AM]

Here we go, an update to cheater!yunho series. I should name this something.

Pairing: yunho x reader WC: 3.5k Summary: Late poor decisions turn into mistakes. Mistakes that Yunho is all too happy to capitalize on.

As per usual this is 18+ PWP content. Please DNI if you are not 18+ for my PERSONAL boundaries!!! Nothing against you, i'm sure you're very mature for your age but to me you are babby.

Also this is FICTION. This is not meant to represent Yunho or Ateez or any people in real life. Please do NOT use this as a fucking moral guide or sex ed oh my god please.

Also so sorry no editing i cannot be arsed.

TW/CW: Dubious consent framed sort of like coercison (reader doesn't say no but she doesn't really say yes), cumming inside, cumming on(reader receiving), unprotected p in v, cheating.

His shoulder has a small hair sticking out from it. Was it always there? Were you just noticing it now? The urge to grasp it and pull it out almost overtakes you as you stare at it. Its the only thing you can stare at except from your own plain eggshell white ceiling. The juncture where his shoulder meets his neck, your bedside, or the ceiling.

"Gunna -hngh- cum," he manages to strangle out. Right. You're fucking him. Or he's fucking you.

You're lucky that kegels were all over your tiktok for you page. Squeezing yourself internally you groan. If he actually knew what you sounded like you'd be in trouble, the acting job was subpar. "Me-me too. Oh my god. Babe- make sure to -ugh- pull out okay?"

He nods into your shoulder as he grunts. His hips start to stutter and almost as if it was rehearsed both of you pull away from eachother, his hand grasping and pumping as you arch your back away from the mattress. Just like the girls in porn do it, although you hope you're more convincing. The choked groan sounds grotesque as white hot cum splatters your stomach. It's hard to hide your disdain even cloaked in the glow of the garage lights filtering through the curtains.

Your boyfriend doesn't admire his handy work for long. Maybe seconds, maybe less, before he toddles off to the bathroom to wash himself off. Not even so much as offering a glass of water to you, or a tissue to wipe off what he'd left. Yunho would never.

Right, because Yunho would've just cum inside of you. Not that you'd have bothered to tell him to pull out anyway.

Your upper lip curls, nose scrunching as you wipe away the cooled remnants with your boyfriends boxers that he'd left crumpled on the floor. It feels like congealed snot caught in a handkerchief. You grimace to stop yourself from gagging.

These weren't things you thought about when it was Yunho that you were fucking.

Curled up on opposite ends of the couch you hardly look like lovers. The tips of your toes barely graze the fabric of his sweats. Your boyfriend is enraptured by whatever is on the tv as you scroll mindlessly on your phone, trying to silence any thoughts at all. You can only play the role of loving girlfriend for so long. You know that.

Your contact turns from green to blue on Yunho's phone. He smiles to himself. He knew you'd be back.

"Was it that bad?" He types out quickly and hits send without a second thought. Smirking to himself. A bubble with three dots appears briefly. He's stuck staring at your contact, waiting for it to turn green again, for you to block him again. No response, but you remain blue.

"I know you're thinking about me," he hits send as fast as the first time. "Should the big bad boss come steal the princess from the plumber?" He adds a winky face for good measure. Something to rile you up.

The dots stay up for longer this time. Nothing comes of it. You remain silent, a mystery to him. All he's left with is the fact that you've unblocked his number, for now at least. He leaves it there to slide over to Instagram, you hadn't bothered to block him there, in part he assumed to show off just how well you were doing without him. He taps your profile and hits "message", swiping up to disappearing mode without thinking.

You're really trying to focus on whatever your boyfriend has fallen asleep to watching. The mental itch to touch your phone is almost painful. If you pick up your phone you might do something you'll regret. Something you'd regret more than all the things you've already done. The buzz of the phone against the couch cushion momentarily rouses your boyfriend. Not enough for him to open his eyes but enough for him to shift deeper into the cushions. He at least was satisfied.

Meanwhile your body is throbbing into insanity. Eyes flicking from him to the tv to the phone. It vibrates again and he doesn't wake. Would Yunho bother to message a third time? What could he even say in a text? He isn't stupid. It could be someone else, another friend, a facebook notification, even a news alert. The buzz didn't have to be him.

With a shaky exhale you unlock your phone. It's an Instagram notification, from him. You practically vault up from the couch, stomach clenched fully, running to the bathroom.

"Yunho has turned on disappearing messages" sits at the top of the chat. An ominous bubble sits waiting for you to click it. A video. You lower your phones volume and curl in close. There's no reason to open it, there's no reason that he should be sending you any sort of message at this time of night, after all that has happened. It could be blackmail, it could be a video of you and him. So you click it.

The happy background noise of a dog cafe throws you off. A happy face of a cute puppy trots into view, waiting for pets. A hand, Yunho's hand, reaches out from behind the camera. Long fingers carding through the soft fur of the puppy, tongue lolling out in bliss. "Good girl," Yunho coos. "Such a pretty girl. You like that don't you?" He continues to pet the dog. Veins cross the back of his hand. Slender wrist flexing as he scratches behind the puppy's ears. Fuck him. His fingers curl and straighten. You forget there is a dog there, transfixed by the motion, by his gentle laugh. "That's my good girl."

The video ends as Yunho chuckles, the dog rolling to its back.

"Whoops, wrong chat. Have a good night." It's shameful how much one stupid video affects you. "You were always a shit liar." You shoot back without thinking. "Give me 20." "No." "Fine, 10. I'll be down the block."

Sweats, no bra, ratty shirt, keys, and your jacket. The heal of your slides barely pops over your foot as you cross the threshold of your apartment. No excuse necessary to the boyfriend, he's still asleep on the couch, instead you leave a note and a glass of water near him. A simple "out for a bit, back soon" without elaboration. Liars always over-elaborate. You're not lying. You're just not telling the whole truth.

"Hello Princess," Yunho's shit eating smirk is barely hidden by the glow of the streetlamps. You stand with the door open, legs refusing to get in. "Go ahead. Say you were right. I'm waiting." "I don't need to, you know that."

Half of you wants to slam the door and walk away. That's the good option or at least neutral option. The other half, the lower half, needs him. Your grip on the door tightens as you groan. The anguish of your halves tearing you apart weighs on your shaking knees. "What do you want, Yunho?" "You." "You had me. You're such a fucking liar," your voice trembles as it raises. You can feel the air in the neighborhood shift uneasily. "Get in the car," his voice in comparison is eerily calm. "Talk to me." Your heart wills your brain to act. You sit, shutting the door behind you.

"Now what about you? What do you want? Getting into your ex's car late at night after a subpar fuck from your current beau really..." Yunho sucks in his breath. "It's a choice." Staring straight ahead you have no answer for him. There's no answer even for yourself. Every other time you could claim you were a victim of gravitational pull, of circumstance, of happenstance. Places you couldn't necessarily run away from him. There was some culpable deniability. However here, now, in the middle of the night you'd run towards the red taillights of his car, knowing exactly what was coming for you. There was no one but yourself to blame.

"I want you to fuck me." Yunho nods. "Can you drive like...somewhere else?" He takes the car out of park, the wheels slowly rolling forward as his foot comes off the break. "Don't wanna fuck where your neighbors could see?" Your stomach twists again with guilt. The silence fills your ears as Yunho drives. The only break in the whir of the engine is the gentle thud of the tires over the cracks in the pavement.

"I don't love you. I don't even think I like you. I just want you to fuck me." Yunho grins. Wanting him was enough, the seed of the idea left to grow. It wouldn't be long, even if you were continuing to deny it. "Right Princess, you were pretty clear about wanting to fuck." "I love my boyfriend." He chuckles to himself. The words sounded so hollow as they floated in the air between you. He didn't need to point out the obvious. No matter how much he wanted to, he had you now and could lose you again just as fast. "Where did you tell him you were going?" "I didn't."

Yunho pulls into the darkest section of the overflow parking lot just outside the mall. Broken streetlight paired with lax security, he knew the spot well. Parking quickly he pushes his seat back as far as it will go and unbuckles both of your seatbelts. You stare at him, dumbfounded as he pulls out a dashboard reflector and pops it into the front window, the sides already benefiting from being heavily tinted. "Really?" You ask incredulously. "Yeah, you want a blanket or-" "Really." Yunho can hear the disapproval without seeing your face. "You said you wanted to fuck. If you wanted something else you should've asked." He pats his lap. "Climb on in, plenty of space for you, princess." The lights in the car finally dim and flicker out. "Wow, even less romantic than he-" There's not a lot that angers Yunho but you sure knew how to find what would. He reaches over between your legs and pulls the bar that unlocks the seat to push yours back to match his, practically knocking the wind out of you as it jolts to the end of the track. "Don't make me come over there instead. It's not my preferrence but I'll make it work."

Your pulse quickens. Coaxing one leg over, his hands hold your waist steady, The seat creaks as you lean your elbows into the backrest, just over Yunho's shoulders. He lets his hands travel up your torso as you try to find a comfortable position. Somehow they always seem to dwarf you in their grasp. "No bra?" He cups your breast in is palm, the answer obvious to both of you. Your nipple peaks through the space between his fingers. Yunho doesn't miss the opportunity to lightly squeeze you, earning a small gasp from you. It hadn't even been that long since he last heard them and still he missed it. "You can be loud here, no ones coming for at least the next hour, even with the car parked." You don't ask how he knows that. Instead you allow your eyes to close as he pushes your shirt up just enough to put his lips around your other nipple, carefully tracing his tongue around it. He suppresses a chuckle as you squirm in his lap. It's cute that you still don't know where to put your hands, attempting to run your fingernails along his scalp before your finger involuntarily grip with a fresh wave of arousal. As much as you know how to push his buttons, he can press yours right back.

"Why- why pants-" Yunho is breathless as he fumbles with the elastic waistband of your sweats. Finally shoving his hand down the front, his fingers run along the sticky patch clinging to your cunt. "You know I've gotta stretch you out." It takes everything within Yunho to not add a snide remark towards the other man. Not now, while your practically melting in his arms. "Yuyu," you gasp as he slides a finger inside of you. The almost pathetic whine that accompanies his pet name has his head spinning as the blood in his brain empties south to his cock.

Your walls clamp around his finger as you pant. The angle Yunho's arm is at is awful for his wrist but he bears it, sliding in a second alongside the first and curling both forwards in you. He finds the spot easily, your forehead pressing into his shoulder harder as he grazes over it again and again. "That's my good girl," he mutters. The vibration of a muffled groan shakes through his shoulder. Your hips eagerly grind down, wanting just a bit more, a bit faster. He wants to give all of that to you and more but.... "-Fuck this angle-" he grimaces, pulling his fingers from you and licking them clean. "Why," you whine. Less of a question more of a vocalization of your disappointment. "Can you just fuck me already?" "If you'd given me 20 minutes and not 10..." Yunho grunts. "Don't want you to go through the effort and leave disappointed."

There's some careful limb tetris that happens to get you out of your sweats, but it happens. Yunho simultaneously reaching back and grabbing the large wool blanket from the seats to drape over you. Soon it would be summer and this wouldn't be an issue. Sundresses, his cock twitches thinking about it. Sundresses and sleep shorts with nothing underneath. Instead of repositioning you in his lap, he leads you to sit on one thigh. Hands coaxing you down harder against his flexed quad. It's enough to get the idea of what he wants you to do. His thighs are slim but powerful, like his hands. "Gonna make sure you're nice and ready for me this time. No complaining, hm?" Yunho whispers close to your body. Dragging your hips over him, you find yourself clinging with your arms wrapped around his neck. Panting as arousal pools in your gut, your essence fully leaking through your panties onto him. It helps that he sounds so good, smells so good. His vocalizations rarely leave the low airy grumble in his chest as he brings you to your first gentle orgasm, your own thighs locking and seizing around his.

Yanking you up towards his middle, Yunho presses the waistband of his pants down just enough to free his length. Velvety, veiny, and large, just as you remembered. Not that it had been particularly long since you'd last experienced it but admittedly it had been some time since you'd dared to look. "Open your mouth any wider and I'll think it's an invitation," Yunho cups your chin in his palm, thumb brushing over your lower lip. You hadn't even noticed you were gaping at him. "Don't worry, I'm good at making it fit." He scoots down a bit to help, seat as reclined as possible, looking up at you with a dopy grin and half lidded puppy eyes. Watching your face change as he fills you almost excruciatingly slowly is his favorite part. Your tight walls flutter as they stretch to accommodate him. Warm and wet and all his. Thighs trembling as you lower yourself was just the icing on the cake.

Taking advantage of your shirt hanging loosely, Yunho runs his hands up your front to pinch and play with your hardened nipples again. You squirm almost three quarters of the way full of him, bouncing almost in microscopically out of instinct. You'd always liked the extra attention. "You're doing so well," he coos with a harder tug. "Just a little more to go." "Yuyu," you whine. "What?" "You know!" He giggles as he kisses your chest and feels you writhe. Neither one of you bothers to stifle your moans as your wriggling finally sheethes him fully inside of you. Slowly your hips roll, grinding your front against him.

"No marks," you manage to whisper as you feel his teeth graze you. "Yuyu-please-" "He'll just think it's his." Yunho barely muffles his own editorializing in your flesh. His hands hold you fast to him, leverage for your winding. Kisses continuing to litter faint bruises in shaded places, he ignores your request. You don't press him on it. It feels too good to have his lips coveting you. Both of you move slowly, the lack of space is difficult but not impossible. Pressed together, chest to chest, exchanging heartbeats and heat. Yunho's arms snake around you, clinging to you. In the dark ocean of the night all he needs is you. Your tiny gasps and whines. Your warmth. Your love.

"God, I feel so-" your lips can't finish the sentences you start. Bodily fluids cling and slip between the two of you, the fabric of his pants slowly darkening with dampness. Your bounces slow, letting your hips take control. "-I know, Princess. You're all stuffed full aren't you?" He teasing tone makes your walls clench. Rocking up into you, pushing into your flesh as deep as he can go. "Yuyu I can't," you start to pout, "I'm so close but I can't." Your legs shake and twitch. Riding him like this is exhausting. "Want me to make you cum?" "Yeah." His hands drop to your hips as he slides down the chair. Jamming his shoulders back for leverage he plants his feet and presses his hips upwards, the position is uncomfortable but your expression immediately changes. Eyes rolled back, you groan. The sweet spot found. Yunho's smile becomes infuriatingly smug, holding your hips and hammering up into that tender area. The entire car shakes with you. His arms help you bounce with him, hoisting you up against gravity just to use it to slam himself deeper.

You grip the shoulder of the seat behind him, knuckles turning white as your core winds itself tightly. Yunho watches your brows knit as your walls clamp down around him, mouth open in a silent scream as air is trapped in your lungs. When you cum, you're silent except for your haggard breaths. He fucks you through it, close to his own climax. "You shouldn't-inside-we shouldn't-" you mutter like a woman possessed. "Shouldn't or don't?" Yunho grunts. "Tell me not to cum inside you and I won't." "Yunho," you whine. All of your faculties are stunted by your base needs. "Otherwise I'm going to cum so deep in you that it'll still be dripping out tomorrow. You'd like that wouldn't you? Bet it'd make your cunt clench." "Fuck- yuyu!" "Tell me now. Shouldn't or don't?"

Your climax is a blinding white behind your eyelids, lips crashing into his with a force that surprises even you. Pulling him up, closer, as if you could steal his aura through willpower alone. Take back the part of you that won't let him go with a single kiss. That only happens in fairy tales. Instead he leans up with you, hands slipping up to cradle your back as he empties himself in you. Groaning into eachother's mouths as refractory shocks travel between. Your kisses become competition, leaving both of your lips swollen and raw until you finally give in and lean your head on his shoulder, nuzzling into his neck.

Slowly softening inside of you, the mixture of fluids have started to drip down his length. Yunho knows he's on borrowed time at this point. Someone has to have noticed at this point. A security guard somewhere or maybe even the man haunting your apartment. He jostles the shoulder your head is rested on lightly, "we have to clean up." "Why'd you have to cum inside?" You sound half asleep and petulant. "You didn't say not to." He's right but- Yunho holds you tightly as he leans to the side, fishing a box of tissues from the back. Always prepared, like a good boy scout. Always willing to help. Trying to leave things better than he found them.

The ride back is silent, one hand on your thigh and one on the wheel. Streetlights burn warmly yet still seem lonely as they stand alone to guide you home. Your finger itch as you fight the urge to hold his hand, interlace your fingers with his. "Stop here." You croak, strangely robotically. Pulling over to the very end of your block. Makes sense to Yunho. Best not to pull up to the doorstep with your ex in the early morning. "Let me know how the drips go," he winks expectantly. Your steely expression sinks his stomach. "Don't call me, don't text me, don't check in on me, don't show up to any of my friend's events. Pretend this never happened, pretend we never happened. Pretend I died if you have to. I never want to see you or hear from you again. Understand?" All the wind is knocked from him. For the first time he feels at a loss for words. He winces. It looks like a small nod. "Goodbye Yunho. Good luck with...well. Goodbye."

Obviously this is not goodbye but we're about to see a bit from yunho's perspective. spoilers he's not really a good guy.

cheater!yunhoverse in order:  [9:42PM] / kinktober / [12:39AM] / [10:45PM] / [you are here]

[ancha-aus]

Ghosts & Medium AU Drabble - Mansion Invasion

The drabble idea i have been wanting to write :3

There is some stuff that hapepend in between. But it is a few weeks after Ngihtmare joined the group :3

No edit's or beta we going.

*----------------------------*

"I still do not see the purpose of getting distracted from your mission of getting my relic." Nightmare sounds unamused from where he sits in the front seat.

Dust does not look up from the road "And I like to eat something other than dry rice once in a while." and the stupid cult activity ruined most ghost hunting jobs so he needs to branch out.

Sure he hasn't hunted other supernatural stuff in a while but this shouldn't be that hard.

It are only like sex demons. And those never managed to affect him before so all things considered it is a very save job to do for Dust.

Killer whines as he uses Cross's body to lean over the back of the chair "Why is Nightmare allowed in thr front seat?!"

Ash huffs "Because you try to distract Dust while he is driving like now! Back off!"

Cross pouts as he hangs in the air with his arms crossed. Waiting for his body to finish kicking Killer out.

They figured out that once Cross's reinhabites his body he has two full days before his spirit and body become weak to possession again. Which means Killer will force his way in. Then it is a matter of who is stronger at the moment and kick the other out. If Cross remains he gets two more uninterrupted days. If Killer wins it takes the body a bit over a day to kick him out himself.

THere was this day once where both somehow managed to stay in the body and that was weird. Killer cooed about them sharing and maybe that would make for a dope threesome. Cross had turned to Horror and asked the other ghost to hit Killer which Horror happily did.

This morning Killer had won and seems to be Killer's turn to drive the body.

Dust had once asked Cross why he didn't just go back to the church to be safe. but Cross had looked embarressed as he shot him looks before muttering about how it seemed ungrateful to just let Dust fix his mess and than not even help with repaying the deal Dust had been forced to make for Cross.

Dust appreciates his assistance. Even if Cross also tends to wake in his bed now. At least he apologises. Soemthing about weird body sharing shenigans and habits. Dust didn't pay enough attention.

Etiher way!!

Work.

They drive for a moment in blissful silence.

Nightmare sighs as he looks out of the window "And what exactly does this work include?"

Dust keeps staring ahead "We are going to a mansion. Where I will search the area and find the source of an incubus and succubus infection. Once cleared I will get paid." and he will finally be able to buy some coffee and sigs. He hasn't had either in so long and he is craving both so badly.

Also maybe some medicine for his migraines and headaches. Those are starting to really bother him. Painkillers for his aching body from all his magic would also be nice. It may even finally stop the constant shakign of his right hand and arm.

Nightmare frowns "We are going to clean out a demon infestation?"

Dsut shakes his skull "No. I am. You all i just don't trust to leave in my appartment alone so you are coming along."

Ngihtmare looks insulted "I do not need a babysitter."

Dust doesn't even bother to answer that "We are almost there."

Cross frowns as he leans closer "How will you fix this anyway?"

Dust doens't look away from the road "Incubus and sucubus spread the same way. Having sex and letting the victim drink some of the blood of the demon. It makes the victim into one of them."

Killer gasps "No! If you want sex I can show you an amazing time!" and he grins.

Dust shoots him a glare before quickly looking ahead of them "I am not going to have sex with any of them you idiot! That is the exact opposite of what i am trying to do!"

Horror looks interested "So how would you fix it?"

Dust sighs "You remove the demon energy of the one who started the chain. You end the source it cleans all the ones following it. so all i need to do is find the original demon that infiltrated the place. cleanse them. and all the others will be fixed too!"

Cross hums "That sounds relatively easily..."

Ngihtmare chuckles "sounds much too easy. How will you make sure they don't trick you or infect you?"

Dust huffs "please i have dealt with them before and they never could do shit against me because i don't find anyone attractive. Hard to transform and look like someone you like when you don't have anyone." it did mke it very easy for him to spot the demons and cleanse them.

Dsut just hopes he can find the original one and doesn't have to fix each victim one by one as that would just take a lot of magic and energy that he does not have. which means he needs to focus on finding the source.

They stop before a long driveway which leads to a big mansion. It looks beautiful as it stands proud between large fields grass.

Killer snorts "Well someone is compansating for something." and he chuckles.

Ngihtmare looks unimpressed at the mansion "Honestly it looks unsightly. It isn't even that large. They clal that a mansion nowadays?"

Dust has the feeling this will be a long day. He turns his chair around and kicks killer out of the way as he walks to his equipment. He looks for a moment before just bringing his notebook with exorsice rituals. He grabs an amulet as well. Dust checks and is happy to note that the crystal powering it is fully chargest. Hopefully with this he can easily deal with this. He tugs the amulet away in his scarf.

All ready.

He leaves his van and waits for the two bodies to actually leave it as the three spirits just float around.

Dust leads the way and speaks "Now. Remember. We will be in a nest filled with these demons. Don't do anything that could get you infected." he shoots Killer a glare specifically "You especially."

Killer puts ahand on his chest "You wound me Dusty. As if i would ever cheat on you with someone else. You know you are my one true love."

Dust shakes his skull as he glances at Nightmare.

Nightmare looks amused "As if i would desire mortals or lowly demons like them."

Dsut raises a brow "Then why are you also in my bed in the morning?"

Nightmare grins "your mortification is delicious. Almost as tasty as Killer's jealousy." Killer glares and Dsut just shakes his skull.

He knocks on the door.

A butler opens and looks at him disapproving "Oh. Can I help you?"

Dust nods as he takes out his phone and searches for the email wiht directions "Yes. I am Dust. Master Erised and I had contact about a small... infestation? that needed clearing?"

The butler frowns as he looks them all over. His sight remaining on the three in actual bodies and not once glancing at the ghosts. "I see. please. come in." they walk into the large hall with many fancy paintings and some vases around. The butler mentions for them to wait there as he goes to get the master of the house.

They wait as Ash does his job and inspects everything around the hall quickly wihtout leaving any traces. he returns and says he doesn't see cameras or any symbols or magical markers. Meaning the demons are fully concentrate on just expending forces. maybe even trying to make a new nest.

That is when a man in a large coat with a fur lining walks down the stairs. his grin wide and arms open "Ah! The exterminator! Dust was it?" he smiles charming as he stops before them. Looking all three of them over.

Dust nods "Mister Erised I assume?" he holds out a hand.

The man nods as he takes his hand and kisses it. Killer postures and glares and Dust mentally takes note that the master had already been taken over by the infection. Shit. okay. Timelimit is very short in that case.

The man lets Dust take his hand back and looks amused when Dust rubs the back of his hand on his hoody.

The man speaks a bit about how he thought there was an infection but it seems to have sorted itself out already. But he hadn't thought to email him quite yet. He apologises and encourages them all to spend the night to rest up. assuring him that they will obviosuly still be paid as he hadn't cancelled.

Dust nods along and they are shown around the mansion before ending up in a visitors wing where the man shows three different bedrooms for them to use. All a bit apart from one another and not one wall shared between the different rooms. He encourages them to get comfortable and wash up before meeting him in the hall when he will show them around the property more.

He leaves them be.

Dust just waves Nightmare nad Killer along to his room where he drops off most of their things and starts searching it.

Killer stretches "So... waste of time? at least you will still get paid."

Nightmare answers before he can "Oh no. the demons are still very much here. they just infected the mansions owner."

Dust nods "They are making this place a nest." he gets some tools prepared before hiding those on his person. "We will all work in groups. Ash will obviously wiht me. Cross? horror? who will stay with Killer and who will stay wiht Nightmare in their own rooms?"

Cross glares a tKiller "as if i am leaving Killer alone with my body. especially with it being at risk of being infected." Horror looks fine with it and floats to be more by Ngihtmare's side.

They all clean up in the bathroom by taken turns before leaving some token clothes in the other rooms. after which they move downstairs to meet with their host who shows them across the property and introduces them to many, many, servants and maids that all tend to his needs. He grins and winks as he says they will tend to any need they may have.

Dust thinks the demon lays it on a little thick. which honestly? not the smartest move as they are here specifically to get rid of the sex demons. why try and play with fire by flirting with them?

Then again.

Dust glances at Ngihtmare who has about five different servants eeying him. Nightmare seems to fall in favour. May be because the others see the more mortal form over the black goop and tentacle form that Dust and the others can see. Dust only managed to see glimps of that form in mirrors but that one looks like a very pretty skeleton with soft purple eyelights.

Killer, or better said Cross, also seems to fall in favour. Which Dust also gets. Cross works out and it shows. Dust knows that is generally well liked and appreciated by others.

Ngihtmare looks amused "As lovely as the pool looks. we did not bring swimwear. I am afraid we will have to decline."

One of the humans talking to him. Maybe one of the daughters of the lord? Grins and mentions how they don't mind skinny dipping. And she and her sisters are more than happy to join in if it makes them more comfortable.

Nightmare just smiles and shakes his skull "It seems rather rude." he gives a partial bow "Thank you for the offer." the demon infected humans look annoyed and sad but accept it.

Dust does notice a few making eyes at him. But as soon as they do Killer is by his side and glaring challenging at the ones looking. Dust doesn't see why Killer is so worried. Dust isn't attractive and so he doubts he will actually become a target. Not to forget Dust doens't have any interest himself. Meaning it is fine.

One very large meal later they split up to go to their own rooms.

Dust is only in there for a moment. Enough to give the others time to go to their rooms before grabbing what he needs and leaving his room again. He has the first incubus or succubus to find.

--

Nightmare stretches as he checks his appearance in the mirror. He does not like that the look in the mirror shows his old form. Even if he is lacking the wings he used to have.

At least there aren't any clear angel marks on him anymore. As much as the fall was painful adn horrible he does appreciate that the fall burned away all marks he had as angel.

He touches his back where his wings used to be. He can almost see his full old form as he stares at himself. the markings of the moon on his skull. the stars as a crown over him. The six wings all snow white aside from the purple tips of the feathers.

At least he is outside of that locked realm now.

In truth Nightmare does not care that Dust is working on something other than getting the relic Ngihtmare asked for. It had been the quickest thing he could think about that would ahve sounded reasonable while Ngihtmare searched for what he actually wanted.

His soul.

His soul is somewhere locked on this earth. Hidden away from him and with him suposedly stuck in hell he would never have been reunited with it and regain all of his powers.

Onc ehe has those. He won't have to worry about being banished again. He will be truly free to go wherever he wants.

but for him to be able to find his soul he needs some of his powers and energy back. Which is why he is staying witht he mortal and his spiritual guests. They are all wells of emotions and so easy sources of power for Nightmare.

Ngihtmare sighs as he turns abck to the room "Just have patiences." he is already one step closer to being free than before. At least Dsut had managed to actually figure out how to summon him instead of fucking up the ritual circle and leaving it useless for him to actually cross over.

Now.

Is it late enough to join the sleeping other? trigger some of those emotions he can eat and absorb as he relaxes back in the company of the warm body-

knocks on his door.

Nightmare frowns as he looks up "Who is there?"

a moment of silence before the door creaks open. It is Dust?

Nightmare frowns as he tilts hsi skull at him "Dust? Is something the matter?"

Dust shrugs as he sidesteps into the room.

Horror frowns "Dust? Are you okay? Did something happen?" he looks around "Where is Ash?"

Dust however ignores horror and walks to his side and leans against him. Nightmare freezes before one tendril pulls Dust a bit closer. He is freezing "Dust?"

Dust mumbles as he pushes clsoer to his side "Cold..."

Ngihtmare frowns. That con't be right. Mortals shouldn't be this cold. Is he getting sick? He hadn't noticed something in the food he ate that could ahve been dangerous. And the demons here shouldn't be able to stela his life force from a distance- unless!

Ngihtamre frowns and rubs his arm "Did one of them get to you?"

Dust shakes his skull and pushes clsoer "Wnat to be close... can i stay?"

Horror frowns "somethign is off... Dust?"

nightmare nods "of course." they will hunt the demons in the morning. He leads Dust back and helps him in first before joining the other. He is still so cold. He rubs the other's arms and back to hopefully get abit of warmth back into the other "I will go grab another blanket."

Dust keeps a tight hold on him "No... we can..." he mutters before looking away "nevermind."

Nightmare can't help but smile. Dust isn't often shy about anything. He just holds the other "What would bring you comfort?" maybe he wants more food? Nightmare had noticed he eats very little and Dust gets defensive when they point it out. Maybe he feels awkward for wanting more?

Dust looks at him and pulls back a bit as he slowly starts to undo his hoody as he mutters "quick way is to share bodyheat..."

Horror hold sup his hands before covering his own sockets "Wait! Dust! I am still here! also not the time?!"

Ngihtmare realises right away were this is going. wait is there an aura at work? to get them more worked up or-

Dust undoes his scarf and drops it to the side.

Ngihtmare doesn't think and throws the fake off his bed and against the wall.

The face goes from shy to hurt for a moment before a knowing grin appears "What is wrong?" the demon stands up striahgt and taps down the dirt of them "You can't be shy now."

Ngihtmare glares as he is off the bed himself and on the other side of the room "you are not dust." why hadn't his tentacle impaled the weaker demon for daring to do that? For invading his space and imply those things?!

The demon grins as they walk over. swinging the hips nad Nightmare raises his tendrils at the ready. The demon does not see his warning as they get right into his personal space with a purr "You know you want to. You can't stop looking at him. Watching him. Anytime anyone makes a comment he is all you see. I can be him. I can act how he would act. You can have him right now."

Nightmare can't believe it but it sounds tempting. His tentacles just hang there. unwilling to attack the image of Dust. The idea of seeing Dust impaled on his tentacles? Dying on them? Even if it isn't really him?

Oh...

Oh no.

This is not the time for this.

The demon grins as they put their arms around his neck "See?" they pull back and Ngihtamre is treated to the image of Dust licking his teeth with a sly grin. Nightmare can feel his magic spark with interest even as he knows it is fake.

It looks so real.

It feels real.

The demon even smells like Dust-

Horror flies through the demona nd the image flickers.

Dust is gone and one of those needy daughters is in view.

The demon is impaled with a tentacle within moments and the human dies.

The body drops and Ngihtmare pants as he and horror are left in the room.

Horror shoots him a glance "so... about those desires for mortals you don't have-"

Ngihtamre glares "shut. up." he grabs his jacket "lets just look for the others." and leaves the room.

--

Killer pouts as he lays in the room alone. He lays on his back dramatically and sighs loudly.

Cross looks at him annoyed "Can you stop that and just go to sleep already?"

Killer glares at him "It is unfair! I finally got control and now I can't even enjoy my nightly cuddle and groping with Dusty? It is rude!" he pouts.

Cross huffs "You shouldn't even do those!"

Killer raises a brow at him "Says the one who also does it."

Cross sputters "That isnt!" he glares as he blushes, heh Cross is rather cute when he blushes, "it isn't my fault you got my body used to sleeping with dust!"

Killer grins "man i wish it was that. I would kill to be allowed to fuck him."

Cross sputters again and hides his face "You know i didn't mean that!"

Killer laughs but stops when the door creaks. He sits up but grins when he spots dust "Dust bunny!" he makes grabby hands "come lay in bed with me!" he wants to hold him. and kiss him. and grope him a little!

Dust looks at him before smilign a bit and walking closer. Fuck dust looks pretty when he smiles. Dust needs to smile more often! Killer will happily be silly if it means dusty smiles more and- huh?

Killer stares for a moment before pouting "Why did you take edge-lord wiht you?" he pouts but gets out of bed. If Dust and Nightmare are here it is most likely to do with the actual job thing so fine.

Dust however just pushes him back on the bed and joins him. Huh!?

Cross makes a very curious highpitched noise "Dust?! Dust! That is my body still!" he is blushing madly.

Killer is ready to tell Cross to shut it when Dust hums "hey cross... mind us joining you?"

Killer immediantly pushes the demon off of him and jumps back to the other side of the bed. Dust frowns at him as Killer takes out a knife "Not a step closer demon. Where is my dusty?" he glances at ngihtmare but nightmare just stands there like a statue and doens't move to attack dust "Nightmare! that isn't dust!"

Nightmare just tilts his skull at him and speaks calmly in that smooth deep voice "Of course it is dust." he is so still. his tendrils are all not even moving.

Killer blinks and cross curses "oh shit." cross flies over and waves his hand in front of nightmare's face but there is no reaction. Cross floats backwards "holy shit. They are both demons! Killer!"

Killer glances at them... and rushes towards the door. He kicks it open and runs outside. Cross close behind.

Killer pants as he rushes to dusts room and kicks in the door again. The room is empty thank fucking god. He checks the last room only to find a dead human on the ground.

Killer pants "okay. okay. the others are fine. no idea where but shit." the demons leave his room and killer starts running again "deos explain why those tendrils were not idling or anything!"

Cross flies by his side and shoots him a look "... wait so you find nightmare hot? since when?"

Killer turns a corner "Not the time!"

--

Dust looks around the corner and frowns. Everythign is way too quiet.

Ash looks around as well and huffs "okay. So. We checked the bedrooms. Nothing that looks like a base or nest... wait did these demons actually nest like monsters or is it more of a metaphor?"

Dust walks down the empty halls as he checks corner after corner "I think it is both. The mansion is the metaphorical nest. but the first in the chain will remain inside the actual nest nest as its underlings do the work to make underlings nad collect like the sex energy?" he probably should have read up on them before this job.

Ash nods "Right! You got the amulet ready?"

Dust nods "Just need to get close enough. Which should be easy enough."

Ash snorts and nods "Just act interested." he looks amsued "I am sure your boyfriends will love to know you flirted with another demon."

Dust glares at his brother "stop calling them my boyfriends."

Ash laughs and Dust rolls his eye lights only to yelp as he almost runs into someone.

Dust glances up and glares "Killer!" well he assumes it is still killer and not cross as killer had had body dips "What are you doing out of bed?!" he hisses as he glances around nervously.

Killer grins at him and smiles "I wanted to be with you!" and he hugs him as the hands wander. Dust doesn't even think as he just hits him on the top of his skull. hard.

Killer yelps and pulls back with a pout.

Dust glares "Where is Cross?" Killer has the nerve to look confused around him but Dust just shakes his skull at him "Nevermind. Stay quiet and don't mess this up or so help me!" he turns and continues on his path.

Ash huffs as Killer "way to lose your buddy in a buddy system. You lot had one job."

Killer just ignores Ash and Ash huffs angerly "Dsut! your boyfriend is ignoring me again!"

Dust hfufs "No my boyfriend."

Killer blinks "wha-"

Dust glares a thim "hush. I am working." and he checks another corner. He feels a hand trail his hip and he just kicks backwards.

A loud groan and Dust shoots Killer an unamused look "No need to be so dramatic. You are a skeleton. you don't even have a dick out at the moment." if killer has summoned his ecto in a place that is infested with sex demons dust would have actually marshed him outside and locked him in the van. Dust will apologise to cross later if he actualyl hurt his body.

Dust takes afew more steps and looks back annoyed "Either keep up or get to a safe space i am not in the mood to drag you along." Killer just groans and Dust rolls his eye lights as he walks away. seems like killer jsut wants to be dramatic.

Ash looks insulted "can't beleive that asshole ignored me the whole time."

Dust shrugs "Killer just is like that sometimes. Any demons?"

Ash shrugs "Not that i noticed wandering."

and they walk deeper into the building. Dust quickly finds the kitchena dn looks around "There should be a wine cellar we can still check." the only places they hadn't checked in the tour and originally sweep fo the place are the cellar, attic and the shed in the garden. But Dust doubts it will be the shed as that would be too far away from the mansion stuff for the demons to easily enjoy.

He searches and grins when he finally finds it. he crouches down and tugs on the panel.

"How is that going?"

Dust jumps and looks back just to glare "Ngihtmare i keep telling you to not sneak up on me!" he glances around but no one is nearby. Dust turns back to open the door to the cellar "You better not have been followed."

Ash huffs "YOu saw the idiot in the hallway on your way or did Killer go back to the room?"

Nightmare hums as he leans closer "I did not see anyone along the way." he looks down into the cellar before looking at Dsut with a grin "Getting some wine?" he looks amused.

Dust just looks unamused at him as he starts climbing down "You know very well what i am doing. stop playing dumb." and he climbs down. He looks around the cellar but just sees rows and rows of bottles. mmh. He walks forwards as he ignores Ngihtmare joining him.

He makes sure to check for anymore trapdoors and pathways downwards but it seems there is only one level to this place. which is gigantic btw.

Dust glares "Honestly who needs this much wine?"

Ash snorts "Maybe they are alcoholics?"

Dust freezes and laughs as he shakes his skull "maybe!" and he snorts.

Nightmare joins his side and puts a hand behind him on the small of his back. euh?

Dust shoots him an unamused look "Ngihtmare."

Ngihtmare smiles back "Dust." and he leans closer "We are all alone."

Ash coughes loudly "excuse you?!"

Nightmare acts as if he didn't hear Ash "No one to interrupt us having a moment. We can get comfortable. Open a wine bottle or two and well." he smiles "just enjoy each other's company."

Dustjust stares at him. Ngihtmare keeps smiling. Dust keeps staring. His smile slwoly drops as Ngihtmare glances to the side before looking back at him with a new smile.

Dust speaks slwoly "You are going. to remove your hand. from my hip. Or lose it." and he smiles back.

Nightmare slowly removes the hand.

Dust huffs and turns towards the exit "You two are acting worse than normal tonight. Honestly. here of all places!"

Ash floats after him "you need to train your not-boyfriends better."

Dust huffs "working on it." and he climbs the ladder.

Dust leaves the cellar and makes his way towards the attic. He meet skiller along the way but killer is still being his annoying self as he tries to grope him and rub against him from behind. Dust obviously hits him in the area of the kidneys and that makes him stop.

Weirdest part is that Dust ahsn't seen either Horror or Cross yet however. maybe those two are actually sticking together? In that case Dust wishes Nightmare nad Killer would stay together and watch each other's backs.

He meets Ngihtmare just as he gets to the cellar and Nightmare smiles a thim but Dust just points behind him "No. You either go meet up wiht Killer and watch each other's backs. Or you are going to look for Horror and stay with the original buddy system."

Ngihtamr elooks confused "Horror?"

Dust sighs "Yes. Horror. YOu know? the person who you were suposed to stick together with?!" Dust just sighs annoyed as Nightmare keeps looking confused. Dust just points down the hallway and glares "Go meet up with either of them. I am fine and hoenstly it is a lot easier without either of you distracting me. Leave." and he climbs the ladder towards the attic before closing the door behind him.

THERE!

Ash sighs "They are so rude tongiht. They keep ignoring me!" he pouts.

Dust shrugs as he inches around the attic. He feels a warm air around them and smells many different scented candles around.

Dust moves slowly as he glances around a corner. There is a whole group od maids and servants all cuddled together. all having this hazed look about them as they cuddle together. Dust searches the group and tries to find who the leader is.

Ash mutters "it is a whole harem. at elast we found the nest. Let me search the area." and he flies off as Dust studies those here.

He slowly takes the amulet out of his scarf and pushes it up one of his sleeves. Now it is just a matter of finding the right target and-

A tap on his shoulder and Dust glares before freezing. ah shit that is the butler.

the butler tilts his head at him "Hello. Is there soemthing we can help you with?"

Dust thinks as he tries to think of an excuse "I... thought i heard something... and got curious... I apologise." he mutters as he tugs deeper into the hood. He can smell the demon's scent now. His mind is starting to ache of all the different energies and magics trying to pull him under a trance.

The butler nods "I do apologise that we bothered you." a hand is slowly nudging him towards the nest. Dust lets it happen.

Dust glances back and sees Ash fly near one of teh nobels. the son it seems. Ash is pointing at him and points to his neck. Dust glances and spots the mark and tiny cut. seems like that is where the original demon shared their blood through. and the son brought it back here and got to work.

Dust lets the butler lead him right into the nest as a very people push themselves against him. smiling at him and rubing his sides.

Dust mutters about feleing flattered but not really being into this thing. making a show of scooting away from the maids offering this while making sure the movement brings him clsoer to the nobel's son.

The butler just bows and leaves to get food and refreshments around as Dust keeps moving strategically until he is right by his target.

The son chuckles and smiles at him. his eyes a pure pink as the demonic energy has taken him over completely "Is there someone you have in mind? We can make your wildest dreams come true?" his form shimmers and Dust blinks in shock as he for a moment looks like Killer. Not jsut killer in cross's body but actual killer. The spirit he met. a moment later he looks like acutal cross. then nightmare, the nightmare he knows not the version they know. and a moment later like horror.

Then the nobel looks like himsefl again as he frowns "I can't seem to be able to settle... your interest seems... divided." he grins "but we are with many... you just need to let us and we will happily bring you bliss and whatever you desire-"

Dust cuts him up by showing the amulet right in his face. The amulet works right away and the pink light leaves his eyes and the people around him all shudder and seem to drop like flies.

Dust is left surrounded by unconcious bodies all in different levels of undressed.

Dust and Ash are quiet.

Ash shoots him a disapproving look "Serioously?! You find them attractive?!" he sounds insulted.

Dust sputters "No?! Maybe? I don't know?! Maybe it is just... I only had contact wiht them?! So that is all the magic could pick up?!" he dind't find them attractive! Right? Like. He never thought any of those kind of things about them!

Sure he found it more annoying than insulting when killer or cross climbed in his bed but that was just because he is used to it! and nightmare. well. nightmare made it obvious he is just in it for the negative emotions! And horror is just a pleasant guy!

Dust crosses his arms "there is nothing there. they are just guys i actually hang out with aside form you. Stupid demons must think because those are the only relationships i have going that it are those type of things."

Ash looks unconvinced but nods "lets just look for the lord and tell him you found the source. get actual payment for this dumpster fire."

Dust couldn't agree more.

--

The lord of the house was horrified to realise what had happened. as those influenced did keep some of their memories from the whole ordeal. He ended up paying them extra for the work and assaults they had to suffer.

Dust was unamused to find otu that SOMEONE had killed the lord's duaghter.

Luckily it was rather easy to blame someone else aside form them on that and wiht the demonic energy having gone around the lord wasn't that interested in a full blown investigation.

The nobel son had almost no memories or the whole thing. in his mind he wasn't even suposed to be home yet but still on a skiing trip with his friends.

Yeah.

It was a fucking disaster.

But Dust got a nice payout and even a large bonus for not giving up on them and still fixing their issue and also some apology money. and hush money to not sure that the family had gotten infected.

The drive back was awkward as Dust shoots the others a look "You guys are more quiet than usual..." he glances forwards again. He hadn't been worried before but maybe something happened after all? "did... are you guys okay? None of them got to you?"

Killer is quick to hug and nuzzle him "of course not! I would never cheat on you love! You are the one i love and the only one i TRULY desire!"

Dust frowns at him "I wasn't.. I didn't mena that! I just... you guys weren't hurt right?" he hadn't... he figured it would have been fine but he hadn't thought there would ahve been that many...

Killer shakes his skull and muttered "a few tried but none of them got to me! I figured it out quickly and just ran around the whole night!" he looks proud of himself. Cross nods his agreement and confirmed that is all that happened.

Horror speaks calmly "a few tried wiht nightmare as well. but none succeed. we got out of the area of them and hid." he glances at nightmare. waiting.

Ngihtmare waves it off "More insulting than anything. them thinking i would even want them." he hasn't looked at them yet.

huh...

Dust files that information away. Seems like they had stuck to the buddy system after all...

Maybe this whole trip had beena bad idea after all...

He shakes his skull.

No. There is nothing there. THe demons must have just confused the casual relationships they have for interested. That must be it. There is no way Dust is actually interested.

No way at all.

[gildedneon]

That Which I Cannot See

That Which I Cannot See - Part 2.5 - Gold Rush

Respectfully, you may not use my work, but you are welcome to share it. My work is only intended for those 18 and older as it contains explicit adult themes.

Summary: This is a little bonus scene that takes place after the Halloween masquerade from part 2. These all work as standalones.

Pairing: Vessel x Fem!Reader 

Tags: Mirror play, mask play, concealed identity, a marble counter that is magically comfortable to sit on, don't question it, magical paint that won't throw off your Ph.

Word Count: 1.3k

A/N: No edits. I wrote this in one shot. I aim to have the third and final part out in time for New Year's Eve.

Part 1 Part 2

Read on Ao3

The car ride back was pure torture. Despite somewhat behaving on our driver’s behalf, we did not take our hands or our gazes off each other. We were quite a sight in the lobby. Elaborate spooky costumes. Makeup shot to hell. He was dragging me into the bathroom the second I unlocked my hotel room door. 

“I have waited for this moment for a while.” His looming figure is a menace with that mask behind me in the large vanity mirror. 

“For what?” He places a few gentle kisses along my bare shoulder,as his hands come to the zipper of my dress. “Oh.”

“I suppose we haven’t actually seen each other without clothes yet. You didn’t have to wait this long.” I smirk.

“What was I supposed to do? Strip you bare in the middle of the garden? Where anyone might see?”

“You said no one would find us!”

“I did, didn't I?” He grins and unzips my dress, removing one shoulder at a time. Baring myself to him. Fully. Every little thing on full display under the glaring bathroom lights. As my gown falls to the floor, the mess of paint beneath my mask contrasts the expanse of my skin. His hands run along my body, pausing to grab my hips, sending shudders through me. He steps back. I watch his reflection stare down at me with that awful mask. He slowly removes his vest and then his shirt. Then just the button of his pants, the only garment remaining on his frame. 

What a pair we make. In our silly little masks, holding on to that last layer of vulnerability. 

I watch the reflection as he comes up behind me and his large hands roam my body. Teasing me until I am arching back against him. The image of us sends my blood racing. He tips me forward and I brace my arms on the counter. I feel him tease my entrance and before I can voice my impatience, he is filling me once more. My moans vibrate through the large bathroom. His hips still. 

“My dear, let’s not wake the neighbors.”

“Oh so now you want me to be quiet?” His chuckle rumbles through the space and through me.

“No but my desire for us to not be interrupted is greater.” I give a slight nod, accepting the challenge.

And what a challenge it is, because the second he thrusts into me, I have to fight to silence the gasp falling from my lips. Despite the pleasure washing through my body, I think I’m doing a pretty great job or turning my moans into quieter breathy sounds. But perhaps not as great as I thought as his hand is suddenly covering my mouth. The sight of us sends jolts of excitement straight to my core. Watching the way his body moves against mine, holding me in his grip. God, it has me clenching around him. Hitting spots deep inside me. The way he stops moving altogether, tells me I must have gotten carried away.

“Darling, that was not an invitation to be louder.” I whimper against his hand as he withdraws from me. He runs a hand up my chest, grasping my painted throat. 

“Does the sight of me having my way with you excite you that much?” I do my best to nod in his hold.

“Hmm… Well enough of that for now.” Turning me towards him, and away from the mirror, he backs me against the counter, lifting me onto it. I ache at the sight of him. His taught body contrasted against the black paint, low hanging pants, and that horrid mask. He leans over me and I fall back on my elbows, my upper back pressed against the mirror. The bite of the cold marble does nothing to quell the heat coursing through my veins. He is just staring down at me, not moving. I follow his gaze to the mess of black paint between my thighs. Heat rushes to my cheeks as I am transported back to the garden. I stare up at him, into the red void he is wearing.

“Your mask is still really fucking creepy you know” He leans into me, his arms caging me in.

“Oh I know” Vessel spits into his palm, coating himself before sliding back inside of me. One of his hands quickly finds my mouth to mask the whimpers spilling out of it. His pounding pace slows and his free hand begins to circle my clit. Testing different strokes and watching my body’s response. My toes curl as he finds his pattern. Bringing me to the edge of release in record time. I reach for him, clinging to his arms, the feel of his skin under mine is foreign but electric. My body goes taught as my release whips through me in stuttering waves. His mouth captures mine in a kiss, swallowing my sounds. Tears spring in my eyes in my fight to stay quiet. All of that effort goes out the window when he picks up his pace. My overstimulated body fighting to scramble away from the sensations while simultaneously wanting more. My nails bite into him, as I ride these near frantic waves of stimulation. With a groan he pulls out, spilling himself up my stomach. Painting my chest. I smirk in surprise as I feel a hot splash against the side of my mouth and cheek. Still twitching a bit from my own orgasm, I steady my breathing as I wait for him to speak. But he is just staring down at me, his chest heaving as he steadies his own breath. 

“Do you want to take a picture? It’ll last longer… I mean that genuinely.” I can’t see his eyes but I see the way the rest of his body lights up at my suggestion.

“I don’t have my phone with me.” He says in defeat.

“What a shame… good thing mine is on the floor in my dress.” Pushing away from the counter, he searches through the fabric, eventually freeing my phone. His hands seem to tremble a little as he goes to operate the camera. Is he nervous about this? I hold my hand out, he passes me the device and visibly relaxes. It takes me a second to find the best angles, but I snap a few photos capturing the evidence of our enjoyment this evening. Ves has tissues waiting for me as soon as I set down the phone. 

In the aftermath, a strange feeling creeps through me that we are standing mostly naked in a hotel bathroom, smeared with paint, and wearing masks. But an even stranger feeling takes its place at the thought of removing those masks. Right here. Right now… not yet.

Standing on my tip toes, I reach my arms around his neck. He pulls me into a deep kiss.

“Thank you for tonight.” I murmur against his lips. Knowing that he will understand, that for me, the night ends here. The way he wraps me in a tight hug confirms that knowing.

“It is I who should be thanking you. As always. Rest well.” For a moment, I lay my head against his chest and let myself be held in his arms. But the moment passes. Stepping away, I go to start the shower, before turning back to him.

“Sleep well Ves.” I smile at him. 

“I’m going to need it to think of our next adventure.” He says as he gathers his fallen clothing.

“Can’t wait. Maybe less running next time though.”

“Less running. I’ll make note of that.” A light laugh escapes me as he smirks from across the small space. And with one last exchange of ‘goodnights’ he turns and leaves. Whatever this is… it is getting dangerously close to something more than it was.

[minangelo]

YOUNG DUMB & BROKE

Summary: Taketora has been avoiding you since he got out of reform school. One day, you went to Valhalla's base camp because you knew he had joined them.

Pairing: Hanemiya Kazutora x F! Reader

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 900+

Warning: Curse words, minor fight, blood

Music rec: 🎶Young Dumb & Broke - Khalid 🎶

A/n: I'm writing Kazutora fic now but I'm stuck, so I guess I just posted this for fun. Let me know what you think!

A/n: Edited (May 25, 2025)

The tightness of his grip around my wrist made me winch, I'm sure that it would be bruised the next morning. If he put in a bit more strength to it, probably my wrist would be broken under the pressure. Reluctantly, I followed him as he dragged me out of the building.

"Tora!"

The only reply I received was the heavy weight of silence. Tripping over my own feet, I struggle to keep up with his brisk strides. Fighting against his hold felt futile, no matter how I struggled or how much energy I poured into my efforts, his grip remained unyielding.

"Tora you're hurting me!"

He halted his movement unexpectedly, and I collided with him, my front crashing against his back with a sudden jolt. A heavy sigh escaped him, and I could feel the tension in his back gradually loosen before tightening again.

As I pulled my hand away from his grasp, his body turned suddenly, and his arms extended to seize both of my wrists. Not as tight as before but enough to keep me in place.

"What the fuck are you thinking?"

To my surprise, he didn’t scream in my face as I had anticipated. His voice is deep and low, reflecting the seriousness in his eyes, which I can only meet for a second before looking away.

"I-"

"You. A girl from Toman. Sneaking into Valhalla by yourself-"

"I just want to see you!"

"Did you have a dead wish?!"

"No! But-"

He releases my hand, his fingers slipping away as he turns to walk back the way we came. Our shoulders brush against each other as he passes by, the warmth of his presence lingering on my skin.

"Leave. Just leave"

Did he really expect me to just leave? Instead of listening to him, I walked toward him and tugged the back of his uniform, causing him to stop.

"Two weeks..."

His head turned, and I felt his gaze on me while I kept mine focused on his back. I swear, if I looked into those golden eyes again, I would break. But I can't predict whether I'd break down in tears or break his jaw.

"No, two years! I waited for you for two fucking years! I thought after you're free... You would come to me! Or at least call me... I kept waiting and waiting like a fool!"

Once again, he remained silent in response, but his intense gaze continued to burn into me. My hands dropped to my sides as I felt them starting to shake. Was it due to my anger or my sadness? I'm not quite sure.

His body gradually shifted to face me, I could see his chest expand and contract with each breath. As he emitted a rich chuckle, the corners of his mouth curled up, making it clear that he found something amusing at the moment.

I snapped my head up and finally looked at his face. Our eyes met again, and this time I didn't look away. The sparkles that used to fill his golden eyes were nowhere to be found. It’s not that he had many, to begin with, but he used to have some, and now they were all gone.

"You're such a fool"

He sneered, his mocking words slicing through the air. I stood frozen but then everything spiraled into chaos. My fist flew up, connecting squarely with his cheek. It didn’t send him staggering back or crumpling to the ground, but it was enough to send his head snapping to the side.

Blood and saliva hit the ground beside us as he spat it out to the side. The deep chuckle returned as he turned his head toward me, revealing a cut on the corner of his lip and his bloody gum while he grinned.

"You haven't changed at all, aren't you?"

His hands moved up and I closed my eyes, expecting a slap. I braced for impact, but the pain never came.

"Who the hell crying after throwing a fist at people, huh?"

I didn't realize I was crying until his warm fingers brushed against my wet cheeks as he wiped away my tears. When I opened my eyes again, I found myself meeting his amused gaze. Although his eyes still looked dull, they were not as cold and mean as they had been before.

"Shouldn't I be the one crying? I'm the one in pain, after all. I think you almost broke my jaw"

A chuckle escaped me despite the tears streaming down my face. Soon, his chuckle mingled with mine, but it quickly vanished as he lifted my chin. His eyes once again mesmerized me, holding me captive under his spell.

"Tora..."

"Still a crybaby, aren't you?"

"I'm not!"

"Liar..."

"I should've broken your jaw so you could shut up"

"Are you holding back? I thought you were getting weaker."

We chuckled once again, and with that, my tears subsided. His hands moved to cradle the one I had used to punch him. Redness covered my knuckles, and I knew they would be bruised the next day. He gently caressed my knuckles and wrist with his thumb, sending shivers across my skin.

"But I meant it"

"What?"

"You can't just walk into Valhalla territory alone. What if I'm not there? Or Baji?"

"I can take care of myself"

“I know you can. If you couldn't, you wouldn't have been my vice-captain back then.”

His smug smile ignited a spark within me, and I couldn't help but mirror it, letting the wave of joy wash away the anger that had simmered for two long weeks. It was as if his grin had the power to fling those heavy feelings over the hill.

[panravenc]

If u don’t mind can request munetaku : love letter , basketball match , love confession.

thanks for the request! as i've said, i only take one prompt per drabble, and in this case i chose "love confession". i hope you like it!

“Another love confession?”

Kirino’s question shakes Shindou out of his thoughts, and he looks towards his best friend. Kirino has an eyebrow raised and nods towards the girl that’s just walking away, and Shindou shakes his head in response.

“No, she was from the orchestra. Why?”

Amused, Kirino scoffs and points towards their school’s gates. Shindou turns around only to see Ibuki with his arms crossed, frown evident even meters away. A smile inevitably grows on his lips, before the implications of Kirino’s words catch up to him.

“Why would Ibuki care?” He asks, skeptical. “He’s only here to play football.”

Kirino snorts. “He’s here for you. Don’t be obtuse.”

Shindou feels his cheeks heat up, but refuses to blush at the thought of Ibuki liking him back. They’re friends, and that should be enough. “You’re imagining things.” And with that, he starts to walk towards the gates.

“I’m really, really not.” Sounds dry behind him, but after a sigh, no more words come out of Kirino’s mouth.

When they both reach Ibuki, Kirino hastily says his goodbyes―something about meeting up with Kariya―and leaves them behind with a wink and a teasing smile that Shindou can read perfectly. Go for it, it says.

It’s utterly unhelpful.

Rolling his eyes, Shindou gives his focus back to Ibuki. But the latter is frowning at him still, irritation creeping on his face. “Something wrong?”

“No.” Ibuki spits out. And then, a second later: “Who was that girl?”

“Inui-san? Just a member of the school’s orchestra. She wanted to ask if I could help out the new pianist; she’s having difficulties with part of their new repertoire.”

“Nerd stuff, then,” Ibuki mutters with a sigh.

“Why? And it’s music, not ‘nerd stuff’.”

But instead of answering, the older boy just turns away and starts walking towards the riverside’s field, where they’re supposed to be meeting up the rest of the Earth Eleven’s team.

His voice drops into that authorative tone he held as a captain. “Answer me.”

“It’s nothing,” Ibuki tries to shake him off. “Is curiosity a crime, now?”

Shindou raises an eyebrow, not believing him, but when Ibuki remains silent, he relents. “Alright. Did your curiosity get sated, then?”

“Enough,” he shrugs.

They walk in silence, at first a bit tense, and eventually just a comfortable one. The sky starts to tint with sunset oranges, and Shindou―watching him from the side―thinks Ibuki suits those kind of lights.

Somehow, it reminds him of the day they spent lost in Gurdon’s volcanic mountains.

“Would you have accepted it, if it was a confession?”

The question throws him off as much as Kirino’s earlier one had. And this time, because it’s Ibuki asking, he can’t help the nervous, fluttering thrum of his heartbeat.

“No. Why?”

Ibuki frowns, teeth picking at his lower lip. “I―” He stops himself, before facing away from Shindou, eyes forward on the road. Then, side-ways, almost shy: “You won’t accept any confessions, right?”

He shakes his head. “No.” Not unless it’s yours. “Not from any of the girls at school. Again, why?”

“I just don’t want you distracted from our games.” He faces Shindou with a smirk in place, with the sun behind him, with see-through bluster that couldn’t hide his blush if he tried. “If you stop looking at me, I might just beat you at it.”

It feels, a little, like his heart might explode; and he smiles, helpless. “I won’t.”

Ibuki scoffs. “Good.”

Shindou laughs, unable not to. Maybe Kirino isn’t imagining that many things.

i hope you liked it!! you, and any other person still reading our beloved munetaku in the year 2025 XD. anyways, here it is. a little drabble with munetaku mutual pining (what i like best lol). it's not edited so if there are any mistakes, my apologies. english is not my first language ;;

thanks for reading,

―pau.

[ouroborosmoons]

Senior Hamas leader Osama Hamdan delivered an important press conference today, October 22nd, 2024, regarding the developments of the zionist aggression on the Gaza Strip.

RNN has provided a translated transcript

Hamas' Press Conference today, October 22nd, 2024:

Link to watch press conference in Arabic

In the Name of Allah, the Most Gracious, the Most Merciful

"So fight in the cause of Allah; you are not held responsible except for yourself. And encourage the believers join you] that perhaps Allah will restrain the might those who disbelieve. And Allah is greater in might and stronger in punishment."

On the 382nd day, the zionist-Nazi occupation continues to escalate all forms of the genocide war against our people in the Gaza Strip. For the 18th consecutive day, it has intensified the siege on the northern Gaza governorate, particularly in Jabalia and Beit Lahia, perpetrating the most heinous war crimes against unarmed civilians in their homes and against displaced people in shelters and tents in schools.

The zionist occupation in the northern Gaza Strip, with utter brutality and vengeance against our steadfast people who remain on their land after more than a year of war, is committing systematic crimes that fall under the framework of genocide. These include field executions, deliberate killing of civilians, forced eviction using violence amid massacres and brutal bombardment, starvation, siege, attacks on hospitals, bombing and destruction of homes, and the denial of entry for aid and fuel, all aimed at displacing and exterminating our people and creating a new geographical and demographic reality, known as the "Generals' Plan."

For 18 days, the zionist occupation has rejected all UN and international requests and appeals to allow fuel into hospitals, as well as food and medicine. It also refuses requests to rescue those trapped under the rubble, leaving the bodies of martyrs and the injured in the streets, while ambulances are prevented by fire from reaching them. This has led to the death of hundreds of patients and injured people, creating unprecedented and inhumane conditions that threaten the lives of thousands, and preventing any chance of survival for approximately 150,000 citizens remaining in their homes, exposing them to a slow death.

The so-called safe corridors from northern to southern Gaza, claimed by the occupation to be secure, have turned into death traps, targeting our people, including women and children, for field executions, arrests, or brutal torture. As usual, the occupation lies and deceives, directing displaced people to specific roads only to kill them there.

During this period, more than 700 martyrs have ascended, not counting those under the rubble or those unreachable by ambulances, with the number expected to rise amid the occupation army's escalation of all forms of genocide and massacres.

The latest of these horrific massacres was the targeting of an UNRWA shelter in Jabalia camp, the targeting of displaced people in the streets of Beit Lahia, resulting in the martyrdom of over 12 citizens, and the brutal bombardment by artillery and drones on the displaced, leading to the martyrdom of around 50 people in the Gaza Strip since dawn today, including more than 26 martyrs in the northern Strip. [The number has risen to 63 martyrs at the time of publication.] [OP edit: that number is now 70+]

In the face of these brutal crimes that this Nazi army continues to commit against our people in the Gaza Strip, and especially its north, and against all aspects of human life there, we affirm the following:

First: The global silence in the face of the genocide being committed by the occupation in the Gaza Strip, witnessed and heard by the entire world, is a stain of shame on all those who remain silent, hesitant, and fail to act to stop it. The continued silence over the U.S. administration's and some Western countries' financial and military support for the occupation makes them complicit in the crime of genocide against our people.

Therefore, we reiterate that the credibility of the international community and its institutions, foremost among them the UN Security Council, the International Criminal Court, and the International Court of Justice, is being tested against the values and treaties on which they were founded. They must fulfill their role and responsibility in stopping the genocide against the Palestinian people.

Second: The repeated genocidal crimes committed by the zionist enemy throughout the Gaza Strip, as part the execution of its aggressive and terrorist plan, are being fully supported by the U.S. administration and some Western countries, as confirmed by Francesca Albanese, the UN Special Rapporteur on Human Rights in the Palestinian Territories.

Here we state clearly: the U.S. administration, which granted the occupation a one-month period to discuss mechanisms for allowing aid, instead of pressing to immediately stop the crimes and aggression, is giving it a timeframe to commit these crimes in their most horrific forms without consequence. This deepens its responsibility and full complicity in this aggression and the genocidal war against our people, and it will not escape political, legal, humanitarian, or moral accountability, no matter how long it takes.

In this context, with the talk of another visit by U.S. Secretary of State Blinken to the region—which represents another American step to provide political cover for this crime—and with discussions about the so-called "the day after the war," we reaffirm the following:

First: Our people have the right to choose all of their options with complete independent free will. They are the ones to decide the details and agenda of the day after the war, and it will be purely Palestinian, not according to "israeli" standards or American desires.

Second: We also affirm that our people will continue to stand firm on their land and continue their resistance to this zionist-Nazi enemy until their demands are met: stopping the aggression, the full withdrawal from the Gaza Strip, breaking the siege, rebuilding Gaza, and achieving a serious prisoner exchange deal.

Third: The Arab and Islamic incapacity to take practical and serious action to stop the ongoing massacre against our people for an entire year—despite the numerous statements of condemnation and denunciation—has emboldened the zionist enemy to continue its war and aggression without pause. What is needed today is the use of our nation's capabilities, which can hurt this enemy and curb its terrorism and aggressive plans that will not stop at the borders of Palestine.

Fourth: We call on Arab and Islamic states to urgently convene the UN Security Council and press for the issuance of an international resolution to stop the aggression and protect our people from the zionist massacre. We also call on the UN Secretary-General to issue an urgent appeal to halt the genocide in the north of the Gaza Strip.

Fifth: We renew our call to the masses of our Arab and Islamic nations and to all the free people of the world to escalate and activate all forms of popular mobilization in every capital and public square, and to participate actively in putting pressure on the U.S. administration and all countries that support and back the occupation. This should be done by besieging their embassies around the world to expose their support for the occupation and criminalize their policies, and to gather all energies to force the zionist occupation to stop its crimes of killing, bombing, starvation, and displacement throughout the Gaza Strip, especially in the north.

In the face of this crime, what is required is to exert the utmost effort and power so that the enemy and its supporters understand that our nation is capable and these capabilities will not remain disabled if its aggression and crimes against our people in Palestine escalate.

Finally, the world, which stands in solemn remembrance of the Holocaust—a crime it never witnessed—must now answer for its stance on the new Holocaust it is witnessing live, in real time.

Mercy, glory, and immortality to the righteous martyrs of our people, a swift recovery to the wounded and sick, freedom for the prisoners and detainees, and victory to our people and our resistance, and to every resistance fighter on the path to liberation of Al-Quds and Palestine.

Indeed, it is a jihad of victory or martyrdom.

[vicherrx]

Lantern Rite .

Xiao x gn!reader

Fluff, slighty sad (his past)

A/n: this is also kind of a ritual for all xiao havers that are going to pull for him on chronicle wish (i am xiao haver). Sorry if it's boring or not that good, I wrote this at exact new year, and finished writing at 1:03 am, overall: 1:33am for editing hehe.. I am stuffed with thoughts of him rather than the food I ate. Anyway, happy renewed year to all of you! 🏮

*⁠.⁠✧ • — . — . — . — . — . — . — . — . — . — . — . ° + 🏮

Following Xiao through liyue harbour to the destined spot, in which where the view of lanterns are bright and clear before your eyes.

Mesmerised by the view — Xiao too can't deny how he feels about it, the view in front of him none other than you.

The lingering feeling of his gaze upon you, as if you were some kind of heaven sent.

He sat there beside you, his arm resting on his knee, whilst other hand remain on ground to guide his sitting balance; though his eyes fixated only at you — making the event the background of this very night to midnight.

You who are still standing on your feet, hands clenched into fist against chest, watching as the floating lantern flew subtly up above the sky, lighting whole liyue so gracefully. Your eyes twinkling at the sparkling night — completely oblivious of the Adepti's gazing.

Snapping back to your senses, you turn to look down on your right — meeting your companion's gaze; and at that very moment he would describe when the world stopped for him once again, but this time in a beautiful way.

His eyebrows knitting in protectiveness, quickly averting his gaze.

"Hm?" You hummed, sitting next to the Adepti. Shoulders so close it could touch.

Although it didn't show — he became slightly stiffed at the proximity of your bodies.

"The lanterns between the skies are very pleasant to witness." You broke the silence, hopeful that he will reciprocate with the same energy — calm instead of awkwardness, worst: Boredom.

"Mhm..." He nodded, his voice in a humming whisper, remaining strained, yet soothing like always.

And you were once again following every lantern floating with your sight while he took this as the opportunity to stare at you — to capture your godlike beauty.

You then felt his gaze this time, and this time you caught him, he didn't have the chance to turn away from meeting your gaze. His eyes looking down at the space between your hands, clearing his throat.

"Is something bothering you?" Asked you worriedly, making your head tilt to your side slightly.

"..no." a sigh escaping his pursed lips, "there is..." He finally confessed.

"Do tell, you know im always here." Perhaps those choice of words made it worse.

Oh how you hate to see him in pain.

"Are you only saying that to lessen my..." trailing off, he looked back at the view with the pained expression on his face, continuing his words, "My suffering that has been living within my every passing living seconds?"

In a blink of regret, you immediately took back those words with apologies and elaborations. "Of course not! That's not what I wanted you to think..." Letting out a huff, looking also at the view.

This was not the atmosphere you wanted to create, yet it ended up here. A soft sigh leaving your parted lips as you shift your head to face his direction; this time you were the one admiring the Adepti. The worried expression on his face has now died down, giving you a relieving sight.

"Xiao." You called, just like you would when you needed him by your side. Though the difference is: you called him, not that you needed his comforting actions, but to reassure him.

"Hm?" He looked at you, eyes meeting with yours, your reflection giving life to his lone sight.

"You know, I might not be here with you in the far future — it may feel distant, cold, and lonely, but... I hope you let a tiny part of myself into your heart." His hearing shot focused, a tiny frown now displayed on his soft lips you have not touched.

"Please... Don't speak such words..." The very first you saw him vulnerable right in front of you. "I despise it when you say these nonse-"

Cut off by actions you committed: taking in his hands in your grasp — his palms cold; yours warm. Your eyes closed and his wide, staring at your eyelid. Lips pressed against one another softly, and gentle. Fireworks cracking above air, illuminating both your frame and the Adepti's with unmatching colours, dim — yet dimensional.

Slowly, he grew in comfort within actions experiencing, reciprocating the affection; in which his eyes slowly fell, lashes hitting the lower part of his skin. Your lips against his lips: his soft lips that you are finally able to feel.

The festival you made — not only comforting, but now also printed in his life.

*⁠.⁠✧ • — . — . — . — . — . — . — . — . — . — . — . ° + 🏮

[gremlin-girly]

My lovely @stargazingfangirl18 - I accidentally deleted my response to the ask when it prematurely posted not realising I couldn't edit ooft.

ButI just KNEW someone else would see that quote with Ran as much as I did 🤣💀

Both if your prompts actually inspired stuff today so without further ado...

Sweater Trouble

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x f!reader

Tags/warnings: FLUFF, mentions/description of a panic attack and claustrophobia, literal forced proximity, semi-nakedness and thoughts of sex (but no smut sorry :( ), childhood friend Ransom, misunderstandings at the end ;)

Not beta'd and I do not give permission for my work to be reposted, copied, translated or put through an AI Machine. Remember all of my work is 18+ anyway!!

Summary: Both you and Ransom avoid a bothersome member of his family in a closet only to get locked in.

Word count: n/a on mobile sorry!!

This is a request for the 20's Challenge

Navigation | 20's Masterlist | Ransom Masterlist

House parties with the Drysdale's are never dull. In fact, they're always weekend-long parties, often drama-fueled and gossip-laden, that usually end in a fist fight or a number of family members not speaking to one another.

You tended to avoid them at all costs but this time your mother, a long standing friend of one Linda Drysdale, had managed to wrangle you into coming. You'd managed, thus far, to avoid any conflict; remaining polite, and a bit of a wall flower.

Endless talk of you and Ransom playing together as kids, not-so-subtle hints from your mother and Linda that you'd be such a good influence on him now made your head swivel. The comments didn't stop with them. Every family member or friend you bumped into mentioned Ransom to you; either invasive questions on whether he really was a sweet kid or more personal, asking if you'd kissed or if he was your first crush. The more alcohol flowed the more questions you recieved.

However, you made a bee-line for the nearest closet when you heard Linda mention that Ransom was almost at the party.

"Fashionably late," she sighed, slightly slurring her words as she ambled to the door. "And I'm sure he still has that God awful car."

You hide away in the closet for what feels like an age, but it's feels so so nice. No bickering siblings, no snarky remarks or faux-politeness, no setting you up with a guy you haven't seen in years.

You hear Linda's voiced and a flurry of steps and you wonder if someone discovered your hiding spot. The door flings open and a body lurches inside shutting the door behind it. There's a few beats of silence and you hear a sigh.

"Um, this closet is taken." You joke but you're met with a startled yelp.

"Jesus Christ." The stranger hisses.

You blink at the darkness before you. "Ransom?"

There's a miniscule pause and then a gentle, "Y/N?"

Talk about coincidence.

"Why are you in the closet?" You guffaw,

"I could ask you the same thing." He sighs. "Hiding from my mother. You?"

"The same thing."

Ransom snorts and you shift on your feet awkwardly. You wanted to avoid seeing him but it turns out the universe had other plans.

"I've been here for the last twenty minutes." You say, trying to make out Ransom's face in the darkness. "Get your own closet to hide from Linda."

"This is my closet. In my house." Ran huffs.

"I was here first." You point out with a sigh. You consider your options; leave and risk bumping into a drunk, oddly please-date-my-son-orientated Linda or be stuck in a closet with your childhood crush who is now arguably the biggest arsehole you've ever met. The former was a far better option.

"But if it means being trapped with you? I'm leaving." You try the door knob but it doesn't budge. You wriggle it and try again.

"Why aren't you leaving?" Ransom's voice is an octave higher than usual. Something nags at your brain. Why did this seem familiar?

"The door's jammed." You sigh, dropping your hand.

Ransom all but shoves you out of the way and rattles the door and sure enough, it doesn't budge.

"Oh my God," he heaves. "Oh my God."

You can feel the black mass next to you almost curl in on itself and Ransom's breathing is laboured near your ears. Then you remember what had nagged at you; a memory from when you were kids, hide and seek gone wrong when Ransom had locked himself in a toy trunk for hours until you'd found him and consoled him, swearing up and down to keep it secret that he'd cried.

"Calm down," you say gently, and in the darkness of the closet you can feel Ran glowering at you. "You're only going to work yourself up more."

"Calm down?!" He squeaks. "I'm stuck here in the dark with-"

You're sure he's about to say you when you switch your phone's torch on, illuminating the small space in a blinding white light. You can see Ransom's eyes adjust, blinking rapidly before taking in your form before him. He blinks again.

"What, and I cannot stress this enough, the fuck is that?"

"It's my sweater," you say pulling the edge of the wool garment shyly. Years of love and care went into this misshapen mishap and you love it beyond belief. "My grandma made it for me."

"It's so ugly." Ransom blurts, your sweater shocking him out of his panicked state, and he collapses into laughter when you glare at him.

Although, he screams like a baby when you switch your torch off.

When you flick it back on, you're looking smug, and Ransom pouts at you. Even after all these years, he's still handsome and you're annoyed his face still makes your heart beat a little faster. It's his fault you haven't seen eachother. Not yours.

"I'm sorry," he huffs, waving a hand dismissively at your beloved sweater. "But it's so...."

You give him a warning glare.

"Frumpy." He sighs. "It just... sits. It doesn't show off your body or accentuate anything."

You raise an eyebrow curiously and he rolls his eyes.

"You have this nice figure and you wear that." There's a little pink to his cheeks as speaks but he's not even looking at you, folding his arms close to his chest. "You should just take it off."

"I can't." You say in a hushed tone, your own cheeks growing pink. Ransom looks at you with a frown.

"Why not?"

"Erm..." you suddenly wished this conversation wasn't happening and considered kicking down the door. "I-I don't want to?"

"Very convincing." He snarks. "I've told you it's ugly and you'd look better with it off."

"Aha," You chuckle nervously. "No, Ranny, I can't."

"Don't call me that," he snaps before holding out his hand. "Give me the phone and take off the sweater. Whatever you're wearing underneath can't be ug- worse than that."

You shake your head vigorously but squawk in surprise when Ransom bear hugs you, peeling your sweater away in one swift motion. He looks victorious for all of five seconds until he realises why you'd been so apprehensive to remove your sweater.

You only had a bra on underneath it.

Your arms wrapped around your chest and you glared daggers at Ransom, your face red with anger and embarassment but Ransom's were focused elsewhere.

He shouldn't be staring as much as he was. No, he definitely shouldn't be tracing the delicate lace that kissed the swell of your breasts. Or how it would look better on the floor. Too shocked at his own thoughts and the sight before him, Ransom had to be brought back to reality by you stamping his foot.

"Give it back, asshole." You snarl, one hand making a grab for your ugly sweater.

"I - uh - no." Ransom stammers under your furious gaze.

"No?" You almost screech, and smack at him with your phone hand, causing a strobe effect to encompass the closet.

"Give. It. Back!"

Ransom pulls off his own sweater hurriedly and throws it over you, stopping your hits temporarily as your blinded by heavy wool. You're surrounded by the scent of Ransom, expensive cologne and a light mothball musk that smelled like old book pages. Your head appears and you watch Ransom roll up one sleeve and then the other. His movements are quick but gentle, his hands soft and warm against your skin.

Ransom's cheeks are burning now, just like yours as you scan his t-shirt clad torso, that's far more toned than you recall.

Ransom is first to break the silence.

"You look a lot better in that." His voice is quiet and his move along your body slowly. "There's more shape and the colour matches better with your jeans."

"Yeah." You blindly agree, still trying to wrap your head around what just happened.

Ransom reaches for the doorknob again and shakes it so hard you think the door may come off its hinges. Alas, the door opens and warm light explodes into the closet.

Ransom steps out first with a deep breath and you follow suit. Unluckily for you both, you step out as Linda turns the corner catching you and Ransom exit the closet with you wearing his clothes and the both of you rosy cheeked.

Linda looks a mixture between horrified and ecstatic.

"I knew it! She shouts, alerting more family members, as you bury your face in your hands.

Ransom hushes his mother rapidly approaching her, hissing about keeping her voice down.

You can't make out much of their conversation but it's clear with the way Linda keeps looking over at you and squeaking excitedly, you're the topic of conversation. Linda makes her way over to you with wide arms and an even wider grin.

"You really had me going!" She croons, wrapping you in a tight hug. You hug her back confused and raise an eyebrow at Ransom, who tactfully turns his back to you. "I knew the two of you were together!"

You quickly put up a false grin when she pulls away but you can feel your heart rate spike in horror.

"Yeahhhh."

Ransom claps his hands together and smiles at his mom but you can see the falseness of it where Linda can't.

"Like I said, we're trying to keep it quiet for now. We've only just started dating." You'd be concerned about how quickly he lied if you hadn't grown up with him. You shoot him a glare from behind Linda's shoulder and mouth "just?!"

You're only response is a half hearted shrug and a smug grin. This would be a long weekend.

End

✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️

A/N: is this maybe Sweater Weather Ran and Reader? 👀 tbh this could be their origin - it was so fun to write!

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