#as much as this feels like the end IT'S NOT THE END... YET

[risuola]

ENTRY #11 ♡ F. READER X GOJO SATORU // I starve for your touch yet fear to savor it.

contents: arranged marriage!au, nudity, reader discretion is advised — wc. 1690

a/n: there was no way i wouldn't write a fic based on this picture. just no way.

series masterlist

Satoru loves to sleep naked.

The beauty of his innate technique, the blessing that he mastered to no end, has stripped him off one of the most basic human needs — touch. He wasn’t missing it that much, he thought, but there was something in letting go of everything and allowing himself to be wrapped in the silky layers of bedsheets that made his body crave the feeling.

He has always picked expensive garments, the ones with soft fabrics and luxurious feel, despite everyone telling him it’s unreasonable to spend so much on a shirt or a pair of trousers, but to him, it did matter. To him, that was the only thing touching his body when a thin layer of infinity effectively forced everything else back. To Satoru, touch was forbidden, threatening. It was a vulnerability that he, the strongest, couldn’t afford.

But that until he’s met you. Until he’s married you.

You were one of not many people he’s made an exception for. You were able to touch him whenever you wanted because the protective surface of endless matter let you in. Because he himself altered his technique to make you capable of laying your hands on his body.

He longed for your touch. So soft, and delicate, and warm. He craved more of it and yet, despite being shameless and confident, he has not allowed himself to sleep bare even once since the day you and him were bound by the knot of matrimony. It would cross boundaries he wasn’t sure you’d wish to cross; it would make you uncomfortable, awkward maybe — and he liked the way your relationship looked like now. He liked the late evenings you talked quietly, alone and intimate in the warm embrace of sheets and your own house.

For you, he let go of the way he used to sleep before because you were worth the sacrifice, but now, you were gone for few days. You were sent on a mission away from Tokyo and the hours Satoru spent alone in bed, thinking of nothing more but your fingertips on top of his skin, made him desperate — and so, he allowed himself the comfort of soft cotton and silk.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

You were tired. Exhausted even, by the intense fight you had to pull through, by the uncomfortable nights spent in the dingy hotel room, by the humid weather and rains. In moments like this, there was nothing you envied more in the world than your husband’s ability to warp from one place to another, but you got lucky. Incredibly so, because Ijichi offered you a ride home two days earlier than you were supposed to head back and you thanked all gods and devils for that man’s kindness. He was willing to put on some more road just to get you home.

“Thank you so, so much, Ijichi,” you kissed his cheek — a ghost of a peck that made him all red and steamy and you felt giddy for a moment, seeing the tips of his ears turn crimson. Adorable. You liked him, he was dutiful, polite, trustworthy and constantly terrorized by your husband, so you were determined to at least be the Gojo he likes.

“You’re very welcome,” he mumbled and fixed the frames on the bridge of his nose, pushing them up with the tip of his pointer finger. “Have a good rest.”

“You too, Ijichi.”

Then, he was gone and you were stepping into the house with a deep sense of relief washing over you. Home sweet home. If you were to guess, it was most likely somewhere around 4 am, way too early for anyone to be up — especially your husband — so you gave it your all to stay as quiet as possible. The sun was just showing its first rays from way below the horizon line, crawling up with golden hues and breaking the nightly, navy darkness.

On your toes you moved across the house. It seemed as if Gojo was spending his time alone quite ordinarily — you saw a modest stack of empty takeout boxes, much less humble pile of candy wrappers and his uniform jacket thrown over the couch backrest, along with few other little items that you struggled to differentiate in the nocturnal haze.

You put down your bag, hung up your coat and pushed off the shoes. Ghosting your way towards the bathroom, you were desperate to wash away the combat residuals. You lathered up the shower gel in a rush, desperate to rest and sleep in the comfort of your own bed and then, wrapped in the towel, you tippy-toed to the bedroom, but—

“Came back earlier?”

—you truly didn’t expect to be met with a sight like this. Your husband was awake, just barely, most likely awaken by the water running in the bathroom. His eyes were closed, hidden underneath his forearm and shielded from the lights that were slowly creeping inside, between the dark curtains and onto his face. His body seemed relaxed between the sheets. The softest, gentlest lines of golden glimmer that painted its patterns over his uncovered chest and leg, his hip and one of the muscular arms. The duvet was covering less than half of him, hiding a part of his stomach, the other leg and—

“You’re staring.”

Satoru didn’t even have to look at you to know that your gaze was lingering on his frame. On his very, very naked frame, just barely concealed by the comforter.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, feeling the heat creeping up your cheeks and reaching the tips of your ears and you thanked the darkness for hiding it away. You walked around the bed, hoping to find your pajama where you left it and trying to force your head out of the gutter. You heard your husband letting out a deep exhale and then, a soft hum. His voice was as melodic as always, though you could tell how much sleepiness was laced into it.

Satoru should’ve notice you when you entered the area of your house, but he didn’t. Tired by his own job, by the classes and all of the meetings, he allowed himself to lower his guard and when he realized you’re home, he contemplated for a moment getting up and dressed, but he just didn’t want to.

“You’re exhausted, screw pajamas, just come here,” he said before he managed to think twice about it. It was a daring offer, inappropriate even and he opened his mouth to apologize for it, but then, you rendered him speechless.

Your weight felt good on top of him. You lay your body over his own with feathery gentleness and carefully maneuvered your way to rest on his chest completely. The touch of your skin flush to his own made his brain to short circuit, it felt divine, too good to be true and just so very right, he couldn’t say a word.

“Is that alright?” You asked quietly, pressing your ear right above his heart and letting out a breath that you held for a little too long. Your face felt hot, you were flushed and flustered but also oddly at ease with the current position and you wondered for a moment if it was the tiredness that made you so bold.

“More than that,” he replied, pulling the covers to hide you beneath them. He allowed one of his arms to snake around your waist and his lips to kiss the top of your head. “Rest. Sleep well, wifey.”

“Good night.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

10:19 AM

Satoru thought he was dreaming, but the weight on top of him felt too real. The soft scent of citrusy shower gel that lingered on your skin filled in his lungs each time he took a breath in and there was a tickle, he realized — every time his chest raised, a strand of your hair seemed to be moving against his jawline. You were not a dream.

He opened his eyes, blinking few times, adjusting them to the bright light that forced its way into the bedroom and then, he looked at you. You were still very deep asleep, he could tell based off the long inhales you were taking, slow and relaxed, fanning against his peck rhythmically. Your body was mostly on top of him, you were on his chest, your leg was between his and only your hips were resting on the bed. He still had his arm around you, as if making sure you were as close as possible.

It felt incredible. Intimate. It was everything he could have wished for. A touch, skin to skin, so intense it almost took his breath away. He felt nauseous at the thought, realizing that it’s the first time in his life, he’s that close to someone. So impossibly close that just a little bit more and you’d become a part of him. His heartbeat quickened.

It was so right. So awfully correct and at the same time, so very threatening. He felt helpless. Vulnerable. He was at your mercy, he was robbed of everything what made him the strongest, because at this very moment, he was bare. Uncovered before you, wrapped in an embrace that felt loving, that felt soothing, addicting, but if you only wished to hurt him, you’d—

You moved, shifting your weight a little bit, adjusting the position and the way your hand run down his side made him shiver. A soft sound escaped your throat when you let out a deeper exhale. He felt your fingers squeezing the flesh above his hip and then, you relaxed again.

“Your heart is beating so fast,” you whispered, not bothering to open your eyes, and Satoru held his breath. “Relax…”

And he chuckled. His chest vibrated below your ear and the adorable sound of displeasure you let out made him lose all of the tension. He turned, twisting his body inside your embrace to face you fully and he squeezed you with both of his arms, pulling you close. So impossibly close, and you whimpered, suddenly enclosed in a tight hold of your husband’s limbs. That was it for your sleep.

You could get used to it.

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[zephyrchama]

"Welcome back, it's been a while."

After a long time has passed, how might the Obey Me! demons welcome you home with a hug?

---

Lucifer tries to approach you in a calm and collected manner, but that facade easily crumbles as he gets closer. His pace quickens and his expression melts into an inscrutable blend of emotion. The man is fighting to stay composed.

He pulls you towards him, unwilling to wait a moment longer to have you in his arms. His gloved hands wrap around your back and waist with a secure grip. Your toes brush the ground as his hug lifts you to eye level, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "Welcome back, I've missed you."

---

Mammon sprints up with the goofiest grin imaginable plastered on his face. He catches himself at the last moment though, grinding to a halt as a blush creeps over his ears. He wants to be cool. "You sure are a piece a work to keep The Great Mammon waiting."

His arrogant act is betrayed by the many glances in your direction. By the way he's clenching his fist so hard his knuckles are white, and by the way he immediately crumbles into your open arms the second you reach out. He throws his arms around your shoulders and digs his face into your neck. He grips the back of your top a little too hard, as if you might leave again any moment.

---

Leviathan sheds his insecurities and doubts, all negative emotions, just to be able to bask in your presence again. It's a moment he's looked forward to for weeks. He puts trust into the belief that you've also been looking forward to seeing him.

He wraps his arms and legs around you, unconsciously aiming to get as much skin contact as possible. "I've really missed you, you know!?" he half-shouts before burying his face in your shoulder. You fight to stay standing upright. Every little movement, every minor adjustment in posture you make causes Leviathan to snuggle closer until you can't tell where your limbs end and his begin.

---

Satan can't control all of the overwhelming emotions that hit him at once. He grabs hold of your hand, and with a palm on your back he pulls you close until your entire weight leans against him. At your touch, all he can do is smile.

"Glad to see you again." The two of you sway back and forth, turning your hug into a psuedo-Waltz. When you look into his eyes, Satan gives your hand a kiss and presses your intertwined fingers against his face.

---

Asmodeus laughs as he barrels into you. "Did you miss me? Of course you did!"

You stumble back several steps yet he catches you before you fall, latching onto your side like a matching puzzle piece. He rubs his cheek over your head, pausing every few seconds to give you a kiss as his free hand enthusiastically traces its way up your back.

Asmodeus is the most reluctant to let go. Making a mess of your hair and clothes only gives him a calculated opportunity to touch you more as he tidies up your appearance. His caress lingers over your collarbone and around your ear. His fingers brush against your mouth, which he then brings to his own lips.

---

Beelzebub falls to his knees, relieved to see you return safe and sound and glad to be by your side once more. His arms curl around your hips. He noses his face into your chest and looks up with a content smile as he greets you, "welcome back."

You lean over to return the hug, running your hands through his hair. You don't expect Beelzebub to stand, picking you up in the process. You steady yourself on his shoulders as he rises, his violet eyes not wavering from you for a second, tempting him to steal a kiss.

---

Belphegor wraps his arms around your shoulders and practically falls on you. He doesn't seem concerned that you're sinking to the ground. In fact, he's so preoccupied with cuddling up to you that there's no way to avoid sitting on the ground with this demon on top of you.

He curls his body around your legs. You feel his warm breath on your neck as he slowly exhales, "welcome back." He's awake, but nothing will stop him from pretending to be asleep as his grip strength loosens and his face trails down your body.

---

Diavolo laughs amicably as you approach. He wants you to come to him, and is so thrilled to have you back. He bends down to latch his arms under yours and swings you around, sweeping you off your feet as you twirl two, three times, then slow to a stop.

"How have you been?" In due time he wants to know everything, and hear all the stories of your time away in detail. For now, he's got you locked in a bear hug. You feel his lips brush over your hair as he lightly swings you back and forth.

---

Barbatos' hug is the most restrained. It's simple and polite. At first he was content to just greet you with a gentle handshake and loving gaze. Though, when you request a hug, there is no way he can say no.

He extends his arms around your back, gives you two soft pats, and hesitates for just a moment before letting you go.

At night that evening as you prepare for bed, you find a note in your pocket that Barbatos must have cunningly slipped in without anyone noticing. It's a detailed letter with everything he didn't get to tell you in person.

[rafeandonlyrafe]

stress relief

words: 1.1k

warnings: 18+ only, smut, male receiving handjob and oral, semi dub con (mainly power dynamics), bimbo!reader, ceo!rafe

“hey y/n.” rafes secretary says as you quickly make your way past her desk with a quick wave and into your bosses office, knowing you're a few minutes late.

“hi, bossman.” you smile wide as you enter, placing his iced coffee down on the coaster that stays sat out and ready.

“y/n, thank god you're here.” rafe groans, pushing himself away from his laptop, needing a break from staring at the screen.

“im only like five minutes late.” you pout, already feeling tears well up in your eyes. “it's just because your coffee was taking a long time and-”

“no, i don't care about that.” rafe shakes his head quickly. the second he saw you in the lobby, among the line of girls waiting to interview for his assistant position, he knew you'd be chosen.

tight pink shirt showing off your cleavage and a skirt that was clearly bought just for the interview, twice the length of what rafe guessed was your average skirt length, and quickly figured out he was right when you reverted back to your mini skirts.

“oh, okay.” all the negative emotions you were feeling are gone as you shrug.

“but i do need you for something. come here.” rafe beckons you over and you move quickly to the other side of the desk.

“what is it ya need?” you ask, quirking your head to the side.

“need some stress relief.” rafe grunts, adjusting the front of his pants from where he's painfully pressing against the zipper.

“okay, like a massage?” you question. you're not sure what the normal functions of an assistant to a ceo entails, but for how much you're getting paid, you're willing to do pretty much anything.

“yes, a massage.” rafe nods enthusiastically. “exactly. and i have one place that really needs to be massaged.”

“mmkay.” you nod, figuring it's his shoulders or something, when rafe tugs at his zipper and pulls his painfully hard cock out.

“oh my god!” you squeal, covering your face quickly, palms smacking against your cheeks.

“no, no.” rafe says calmly. “this is just part of the job, okay?”

“i… are you sure?” 

“yes. now come give me a massage so i can get back to work.”

“okay…” you take a better look at his dick, hard and long with a decent size to it that makes you imagine something you definitely shouldn't about your boss. you shake the thoughts out of your head and grab your desk chair from the corner of the room and drag it towards rafe.

you sit down next to him, glancing again between his eyes and his exposed privates. rafe gives you an encouraging nod, and there's no way your boss would lie to you, right? 

your hand reaches out to grasp rafes cock, swallowing thickly to ignore the urge to wrap your lips around it as you begin to stroke him.

“is that good?” you question.

“yeah, real good, just keep going.” rafe relaxes into his chair, plush and comfortable for the long hours he spends in the office, always arriving before you and leaving long after you've called it quits for the day.

you reach your other hand forward as well, working his length with both hands. you tug your lower lip between your teeth, focusing on his pleasure as you jack him off.

rafe keeps mostly quiet, just a slight increase in the noise of his exhales, but not quite yet a sigh. you leave one hand moving up and down his length and bring the other to the head of his cock, moving in teasing swirls before swiping the pad of your thumb right over his tip.

“oh, that's good.” rafe mutters, his eyes blinking hard to stay open, wanting to remember exactly what it's like to have you leaning forward, breasts almost spilling out as your hands work on his cock.

“anything for you boss.” you smile. you do love working for rafe. being his assistant is mostly just running errands for him, but even that doesn't take up enough of your time, so you end up online shopping and picking at your nails until 5pm hits.

“you are really good at massages.” rafe smirks, and you don't catch his implication. that you're experienced and not in literal massages.

“thanks.” you feel your cheeks blush, face heating. it's hard to get a compliment out of rafe. the nicest thing you think he's ever done is when you caught him staring at your ass as you walked away.

“keep doing that.” rafe says when you cup your hand over the head of his cock, rubbing your palm against his leaky tip.

“mmkay.” you hum again, your usual response to any of rafes demands. your other hand keeps stroking over his length, squeezing just tight enough to have rafes lower jaw dropping in pleasure.

you both jump when the phone begins to ring. rafe reaches over to quickly end the call when he sees who it is.

“stop, it's tokyo.” rafe whispers as your hands continue to move. even though you keep yourself out of the business side, you know how big of a deal the companies japanese partners are.

“answer it!” you squeal, but your hands continue to move.

rafe know he can't keep them waiting so he quickly accepts the call, trying to fix his voice while you stare at him, still stroking almost absentmindedly up and down his cock.

rafe answers the question the representative on the other end has as you drop one hand down to fondle his balls, squeezing your hand into the opening in his pants to touch them.

rafe pulls the phone receiver away from his mouth as he lets out a quiet curse, eyes pleading for you to stop, but you can't make yourself, and rafe certainly won't push your hands away when he's longed to have them on him for so long.

rafes voice is shaky as he answers questions, his cock pulsing in your hand, tip turning pink as you realize what is about to happen.

you look around for something to catch his cum as his cock pulses in your hand but you come up with nothing, so you drop your head and wrap your mouth around the head of his cock just as he begins to cum, sucking gently to empty him as you obediently swallow.

your hands fall away as you look up at rafe, lips locked around his cock. you give one final suck that has him gasping before covering it up with a cough before you pull off with a pop.

you don't even need to be asked as you tuck rafe back into his pants as he finishes up his call, tossing the phone down the second he says sayonara.

“shit.” rafe groans.

“is your stress relieved now?” you ask, somehow still looking the perfect mix of innocent and sluty even though your lipgloss is smeared from rafes cock.

“yeah.” rafe nods. “and next time i want a massage with your mouth.”

[ja3yun]

The Doll House | Alt. Ending

warnings: smut (mdni), unprotected sex, cream pie, oral (f.rec), fingering, pussy slapping, overstimulation, !dark content! murder, possession, blood, manipulation, lots of mentions to hell, soul selling, please read the a/n wc: 14.3k heeseung (true ending) | masterlist synopsis: once heeseung sells you an offer you can't refuse, it's up to you to reap what you sow. sooyeol's return and revelations put your world in wonder as you contemplate the implications of your greed and who you truly are a/n: hi! this is a highly requested alternate ending to tdh! this takes place just after heeseung offers y/n to sell her soul in his chapter (pls read that first before this!), i hope this is what you guys wanted! i had so much fun writing it so i hope you enjoy reading it <3 there's a twist in this one that might be confusing but i think i have explained it thoroughly enough but as always, feel free to ask for clarification. likes, reblogs, comments, and feedback are all welcome <3

"If you want this life," he starts, his stare fixed on you, "Let me give it to you." He promises you the future your spirit so desperately desires with a voice that is both powerful and supple, promising support and unfaltering devotion.

A part of you yearns to leap up and accept, drawn to the allure of the life he promises. Yet, you can hear a distant warning of whispers in the recesses of your mind, reminding you of the consequences of such a choice. You can't ignore the lessons learned from Soonyeol's fate, knowing that trading one form of captivity for another may not be the answer. She is happy right now but for how long could she possibly stay that way?

"Y/N?" Jaeyun's voice breaks through the haze, its urgency slicing through the intimate moment with Heeseung. It reverberates down the halls, each bounce signalling his approach, yet the vastness of the mansion keeps him at a distance, prolonging the inevitable interruption.

You tear yourself away from Heeseung’s grip, sitting up as you dare not to look at him, “I can’t have this life, Heeseung. This belongs to Soonyeol.”

As you move to get up and dress, Heeseung grips your face, forcing you to meet his gaze. His eyes bore into yours, studying you with an intensity that leaves your soul feeling exposed, laid bare before him.

"Say the word and she's gone, Baby," he murmurs, his voice low and determined. The fondness and devotion he once held for his minder seem to fade into the background as he tries to persuade you to stay.

Your eyes widen in disbelief at his implication; how could he suggest getting rid of Soonyeol so easily, especially someone who gave their soul to him? While he may believe it's what you want to hear, his words only serve to deepen your doubts about his loyalty and commitment. If he can toss her aside, how quickly will it take him to move on from you?

Pulling his hand from your face, you hold it against your chest, “You told me you don’t break your promises, Heeseung,” you gently confront him. Yet, as you look into his eyes, you see sincerity within them, making you question whether he means his words to you.

“Y/N? Where are you?” Jaeyun shouts once again, panic in his vocals.

“Let me give you your desires,” Heeseung’s lips upturn as he watches your brain fight itself between yielding and defying your urges.

“Y/N? Can you answer me?”

“Come on, Y/N, say it. Tell me you want this.”

“Please answer me!”

Your body instinctively leans into Heeseung's touch, drawn in by the intensity of his gaze as he strokes your cheek with a gentle caress. It's as if you're caught in a trance, captivated by the magnetic pull of his presence. 

Heeseung has this way of making you surrender, like without even owning your soul, he still has it in his possession. You’re tied to him in a way that no one can grasp. You should flee, run to the sound of Jaeyun’s voice and yet, you stay put, leaning closer to Heeseung with a heavy need for the life he is offering.

There’s no way you can say no. So you don’t.

“I want this, Heeseung.”

A sinister smirk etches on his face and a dark chuckle heaves from his chest as he witnesses your resolve crumble away and the girl he needs you to be, start to appear. He has you hook, line, and sinker, and he could not be fucking happier.

His eyes begin to cloud with that crimson hue that used to scare you but now you look at them with a sense of satisfaction; they help you look at yourself in the reflection and see a girl ready to take what is hers, to be selfish for once. After living a life of chasing fulfilment and desires, Heeseung is helping you finally achieve it.

There is still guilt in the pit of your stomach for Soonyeol because once she comes back from her trip, you don’t know what Heeseung will do to her. That is a thought you can’t bear to wonder about too extensively but you need to make sure that she lives and finds a peaceful life elsewhere; only then can your guilty conscience be eased and you can forever embrace this life.

“I’ll make you so fucking happy, baby. I will give you everything you could want and more,” Heeseung mumbles into your bare shoulder, still sticky from the passionate exchange you’ve just had. His lips are so gentle, a juxtaposition from the raw fucking he just blessed you with moments ago. 

Leaning back, you gaze into his eyes once more, they tell a tale of lust and admiration even within the red clouds. But yours are focused on the safety of Soonyeol. “What will you do to Soonyeol? Please don’t kill her…”

Smiling, he strokes your cheek fondly, “You’re still a good girl after all, huh? Don’t worry, I’ll fuck that out of you soon enough.” Heeseung’s manner is playful yet this is serious for you, you need his word that Soonyeol will not succumb to a deadly fate.

“Please, Heeseung. There is no deal if you kill her,” you reiterate, voice holding a stern undertone while it wavers slightly. “I won’t be yours.”

Heeseung does not like that, his eyes narrow dangerously and his fingers, which were once delicately ghosting your cheek, now grip your jaw harshly, bruising the delicate skin. “You don’t get to make demands around here, baby.”

Fear surges through you, but you summon your courage, meeting his fierce gaze with as much defiance as you can muster. “If you want me to stay, then you’ll promise me she’s safe,” you insist, your voice steadier than you feel.

You and Heeseung are locked in a stare-off, both of you unyielding in your demands. He knows despite feeding into your desires, you still have that damn moral compass, and if he wants you to fully be his -  mind, body, and soul - he needs to work with you, at least for now. 

Knowingly, Heeseung relents, his grip loosening on your jaw as he nods. “I won’t kill her, I’ll make sure her soul is alive and well. Trust me, baby.”

And in some strange turn of events, you do trust him. You don’t know if it’s the proximity of his body to yours or the intimate aftermath of your recent encounter, but you find yourself believing in his promise despite the darkness that surrounds him.

“We need to seal the deal, so to speak,” he grins, his thumb wiping roughly over your bottom lip, pushing it down seductively as he inches closer. This is it, you think to yourself, once you kiss him, you’ve given yourself over to him.

Being owned by a Prince of Hell should terrify you, like most of the happenings in this house should have, yet just like every time, it feels right. You do belong to him in some twisted fate, and you feel it more in this moment than ever. Perhaps he is coaxing your mind to surrender to him, or maybe it’s just pure want, for both Soonyeol’s life and the Prince she once called hers.

Swallowing any apprehension you have, you whisper a silent ‘okay’, giving yourself over with consent, much to Heeseung’s delight. And without a second thought, his lips collide with yours once again, his hand cradling the back of your head as he lays you back down on the bed, kissing you with as much fervour as he can manage.

In that heated moment, as your lips meld with his, you feel a surge of conflicting emotions. There's desire, undeniable and fierce, coursing through your veins, mingling with a sense of trepidation at the path you're willingly treading.

Heeseung's kiss is both intoxicating and consuming, his passion igniting a fire within you that threatens to engulf your senses. His hands roam your body with possessive urgency, as if claiming you as his own in every possible way.

As the kiss intensifies, the world around you melts away, leaving only you and Heeseung locked in an eternal embrace. It's as if nothing else matters in this moment but the raw, unholy connection that you share with him. You feel your veins pulsing and your heart racing, like you’re shedding your old self to make way for someone new.

In this moment, you choose to embrace the darkness and submit to the irresistible pull of hunger and temptation. For better or worse, you've made your decision, and there is no turning back now.

“Heeseung, have you seen Y/N?” Jaeyun’s voice rings through the door as he chaps it softly. His voice is laced with concern, the tremble of his chin evident in how his words shake. “I can’t find her, she was with me a minute ago?”

Heeseung’s mouth turns into an evil grin as he continues to ravish you, knowing that you’re officially his now. Snaking his hand up your legs, he dips his hand between your thighs and caresses your swollen clit softly, using his touch to cloud your mind of thoughts with nothing but him and your desire to be his everything.

You gasp at the intrusion, your nub still sensitive from the beating it took not even 30 minutes ago. He has this way of teasing you, yet giving you exactly what you want that makes your heart beat for him. He might not be a God of holy faith, but he is a God nonetheless, and you are ready to worship the ground he walks on.

“Seriously, Heeseung? Did she come by here?” Jaeyun asks once again.

Grunting, he plunges two fingers into your heat and covers your mouth before you can let out a long drone. “Should we let him see you like this?” Heeseung whispers next to your ear, eliciting a panicked shake of the head from you. You loved Jaeyun, more than the stars shine, so seeing him hurt pains you to think about, and seeing you wrapped around his older brother might just kill him. 

Snorting, Heeseung mocks you, shaking his head along with you, a fake pout on his lips as he curls his fingers inside of you. “No? Are you sure?”

“Please, Heeseung,” you mumble against his hand, pleading with him, and the double entendre is not lost on his ears. You're begging him to keep going while also pleading to keep your relationship with Jaeyun intact.

Jaeyun twists the door handle, but the lock prevents him from entering, much to your relief. Heeseung picks up the pace of his fingers and adds his thumb, circling your clit rapidly. Your body arches as he continues to pleasure you, Jaeyun’s persistent attempts to enter now a distant memory.

Not to Heeseung though, who finds the boy grating on his last nerve.

“She’s not here, so fuck off,” he bellows out, rolling his eyes before adoringly focusing on you again. His harsh words towards Jaeyun hurt your heart, but the clench of your walls around his fingers tells Heeseung a different story. “Oh? You like it when I’m mean?”

Yes, you do. Of course, you do. It's how he got you to worship his cock like it was the offering of the last supper. You don’t really like it when Jaeyun is on the other side of it but the way Heeseung is fucking his fingers into you clouds that soft side.

Your body starts to spasm, telling him everything he needs to know. He thrusts his fingers deep inside of you, your spongy walls trapping them in place as you reach your climax.

Thanking hell below for his palm, you hold it close to your mouth as you cum around his fingers, the guttural groan vibrating through Heeseung's doll shell. As you ride the waves of ecstasy, your senses overwhelmed by the intensity of your release, Heeseung watches you with smug satisfaction. He revels in the power he holds over you, relishing in the way your body responds to his touch, every whimper and moan affirming his control.

Once the tremors of your orgasm subside, Heeseung withdraws his fingers slowly, his gaze never leaving yours. He leans in close, his soft lips against your ear as he murmurs, "You're mine, Y/N. All mine."

_____

Staring at one of the dolls on the hallway shelves, you can't help but feel an instant connection to her. The way her apple cheeks are delicately blushed with a light pink pigment exudes innocence, and her eyes, though glassy and vacant, seem to hold a haunting depth that speaks volumes. It's as if she's a frozen embodiment of lost innocence, a silent witness to the darker forces at play within these walls.

Memories of your own past flood back, a time when you too felt like a mere puppet in the hands of fate, devoid of purpose or direction. You remember the fear and uncertainty that once consumed you, the longing for something more than the emptiness that surrounded you.

But then everything changed when you entered this house, when you met Heeseung and the others. They offered you a glimpse of a world beyond your wildest dreams, a world filled with passion, desire, and danger.

A pair of arms wrap around your waist, pulling you from your reverie, and a chin gently rests on your shoulder. Speak of the devil. Heeseung's presence is both comforting and unsettling, his touch sending a shiver down your spine as his lips press firmly against the base of your neck. It's a possessive gesture, a silent reminder of the hold he has over you, yet there's a tenderness in the way he pulls you close, as if seeking solace in your presence. 

Soonyeol’s arrival is imminent and your two months of work finally coming to an end. The thought of breaking the news to her, of telling her that she's being ousted from her own sanctuary, fills you with a sense of dread. You haven’t even broached the subject with the other dolls, clinging to the hope that you can somehow persuade Soonyeol to go quietly and come up with a feeble excuse about how she craved more than the confinements of this house.

But it’s a pipedream, and deep down, you know it. You're at a loss for what to do, desperately hoping that Heeseung has a better idea, though the thought of the suggestions his mind could conjure fills you with unease.

“Do you like her?” Heeseung's soft voice breaks through your thoughts, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your stomach, easing away the nerves without him even realizing.

One thing about Heeseung these past few weeks; he’s been your saving grace. The pull you felt towards him from the moment you arrived has only grown stronger with each passing day, his presence a source of comfort and stability amid uncertainty. He is rude and harsh with you when you show even a slither of humanity for Soonyeol or the dolls, but he makes up for it by being gentle with you in subtle moments.

He's a study in contradictions - pushing and pulling, hot and cold - and yet, you find yourself drawn to him all the same. It's in those fleeting moments of tenderness, when he brushes a strand of hair from your face or pulls you into a comforting embrace, that you catch glimpses of the man behind the Prince.

Nodding in response to his question, you sink into him, the warmth of his body enveloping you like a protective shield against the uncertainty that lies ahead. “She's pretty,” you admit softly, your gaze drifting towards the doll on the shelf, her delicate features frozen in porcelain perfection.

“Not as pretty as you though,” he smirks, his lips tickling your neck as he leans in closer, brushing against your skin in a teasing caress. “Although, you would look pretty as a doll, too.” His tone is dark but it’s washed away with the wave of banter that flows through it.

Turning your head, you raise a sceptical brow. “Is that the clause in our deal? I get to live here, but you keep me as a Polly Pocket?” you jest, laughter bubbling up to chase away the remaining nerves.

Heeseung laughs heartily, his grip on your hips tightening briefly before he steps back, giving you some space. “You are far too powerful, too perfect, to be trapped in a tattered piece of porcelain.” His words carry a sincerity that melts away any lingering doubts, leaving you feeling cherished and reassured in his presence.

You've tried to keep your guard up around him, knowing all too well that beneath his caring facade lies the darkness of Beelzebub. Yet, in moments like this, it's far too easy to forget the true nature of the man before you. Heeseung's charm and the tenderness he has been showing lately makes it all too easy to overlook the sinister power he wields.

But deep down, you know the truth. With one click of his fingers, he could turn your world upside down, shattering everything you hold dear just as easily as he's granted your heart's desires. It's a precarious balance, walking the tightrope between desire and danger, love and fear.

And yet, despite the looming threat that hangs over your head, you find yourself unable to resist the pull of Heeseung's magnetism, drawn to him like a moth to a flame, unable to escape the allure of his darkness; like there is something deeper.

The sound of a car pulling up over the gravel driveway snaps you back to reality, instantly tensing your muscles as a surge of apprehension washes over you. Heeseung notices your rigid frame and pulls you back, his touch both comforting and unsettling.

“I’m going to ask her for a private conversation so there are…no hard feelings,” he begins, his tone cryptic and difficult to decipher. “Bring her and wait in the drawing room,” he adds, pointing to the doll behind you with his chin.

You watch him with a mixture of confusion and apprehension as he walks away, his actions leaving you with more questions than answers. His demeanour is inscrutable, giving nothing away as he disappears from view, leaving you to ponder the plan he's clearly concocted in his head.

With a furrowed brow, you turn your attention to the doll he indicated, a sense of unease settling in the pit of your stomach. There's a foreboding weight to the situation, a feeling that something ominous is about to unfold.

But for now, all you can do is follow Heeseung's instructions and prepare yourself for the private conversation that awaits. With a deep breath, you grab the pretty doll and head to the drawing room with the hope that this will go smoothly.

_____

As you wait for Soonyeol and Heeseung's arrival, you take a moment to marvel at the grandeur of the drawing room. The fancy furnishings and decor speak of a bygone era, a time when elegance and extravagance reigned supreme.

Sunlight filters through the tall windows, casting a warm glow over the room and illuminating the intricate patterns of the Persian rugs that adorn the wooden floors. The walls are covered with priceless works of art, each painting telling a story of its own.

Over the two months you've been working here, you've noticed Soonyeol's love for the 16th-century Renaissance period. Her love for the art and culture of that time is evident in the decor of the entire house. It's as if she's created her own little slice of Renaissance paradise within these walls, a sanctuary where she can escape the troubles of the modern world.

You’re beginning to feel guilty once again, kicking her out of this home just for your own selfish pleasures. Heeseung has convinced you time and time again that this is what you deserve, that he wouldn’t offer this opportunity to someone who wasn’t in dire need of it. 

And you need it. You can’t go back. Not now.

The door creaks open slowly, and Heeseung gestures for Soonyeol to enter before him, a fond eye smile gracing his features as he watches her timid walk. She looks visibly shocked to see you standing there, her expression betraying her surprise as she takes in your presence. It's as if Heeseung hadn't prepared her for your involvement in this delicate conversation. You can see the confusion and uncertainty flicker in her eyes, a reflection of the turmoil brewing within her as she tries to make sense of the situation.

“Hee? Darling, why are we here? Why is Y/N here?” Soonyeol's voice carries a note of confusion as she looks between Heeseung and you, her gaze lingering on you with a hint of curiosity.

The way she calls him "darling" strikes a chord with you, a guard instantly going up until you realise that, at this moment, she still thinks he is hers when in reality, you're the one he's been wrapped around for the past two weeks.

In fact, you've been wrapped around all of her dolls for the past two months.

You offer a gentle wave, an attempt to break the awkward silence that hangs heavy in the air. It's clear that Soonyeol is struggling to make sense of the situation, and you can't blame her. For all she knows the dolls should have stayed exactly that -  dolls. They should never have moved or let you in on the secret about their beings. But you know them all, each depth of their entity and soul, you understand them, more than her it seems if the conversations you’ve had with Jaeyun and Sunghoon are anything to go by.

“This is just somewhere quiet we can talk, this is a sensitive discussion,” he rubs her arms affectionately, reassuring her just as he has done you over the weeks. Yet, his face graces itself with an ill-omened smirk, looking at you with joy in his eyes.

Soonyeol tilts her head and pouts slightly. “So you know about the boys?” she asks softly, her tone laced with caution as she tries to gauge your reaction. Her love and devotion to the dolls means that she is careful about who can know about them and who doesn’t, and she has yet to find someone she trusts with her secret.

You quickly swallow the saliva in your mouth and nod in agreement, “Yeah, they weren’t very discreet, but they have all been so kind to me. I cherish them so much,” you say earnestly. You mean every word of it, maybe more so the fact you cherish them than all of them being kind, but you need to butter this woman up so you can get her to leave as soon as possible.

Soonyeol's expression softens at your response, a flicker of relief crossing her features as she exhales slowly. It's clear that she's been holding her breath, unsure of how you would react to the revelation. “Was it Jaeyun? It was Jaeyun wasn’t it?” 

She begins to laugh, a soft and melodic sound that fills the room, as she shakes her head gently. You can see the wheels turning in her mind as she comes to her own conclusions. Jaeyun's reputation as a chatterbox is well-known throughout the house, so it's no surprise that she would automatically suspect him first. “You know, he’s usually good at keeping promises.”

Heeseung's grip on her shoulders is gentle yet firm, a silent reassurance that he's there for her. He leans in, his voice a low murmur as he interjects. “Speaking of promises,” he whispers to himself, his tone cold yet his touch offering her affection. “Hey, Soon?”

Soonyeol's attention shifts to him, her eyes wide with curiosity as she looks up at him expectantly. “Yeah?” she prompts, her voice tinged with wonder and a hint of apprehension.

“There’s been a change of plans to our deal,” he says, his words cutting through the air with icy precision, even as his hands continue to offer her comfort.

Soonyeol's gaze flickers to you, as if seeking confirmation or understanding from you. You meet her eyes with a blank stare, unsure of what to say or how to react to this unexpected turn of events. “What do you-”

It all happens so quickly.

Heeseung's hands, usually a source of comfort and reassurance to Soonyeol, suddenly transform into instruments of terror as they wrap around her head. One hand clamps down firmly on top, while the other grips her chin from underneath, his fingers digging into her flesh with a chilling intensity.

In one swift, violent motion, he twists her head with a forceful jerk, Soonyeol's neck snaps at a sharp 90-degree angle, the movement so abrupt and forceful that it sends shockwaves rippling through the room. The sound that follows is bone-chilling, a sickening crack that reverberates with such intensity that it feels as though it could be heard from heaven itself. The sound echoes off the walls with a sinister resonance that seems to linger in the air long after the deed is done. 

As you watch in horror, a wave of nausea washes over you, threatening to overwhelm your senses. It's a sight that sears itself into your memory, haunting you long after the moment has passed. In that brief, fleeting instant, you catch a glimpse of the true extent of Heeseung's power, a power that is as terrifying as it is awe-inspiring.

Releasing his grip on Soonyeol's lifeless form, Heeseung steps back with a cold detachment that sends a shiver down your spine. The once warm air now feels cold and thick with tension, the weight of what has just transpired hanging heavily in the room like a suffocating blanket.

He looks down at his past lover's body and squats down beside her, stroking her face. Heeseung's touch on Soonyeol's lifeless form is strangely tender considering the brutality of his actions just moments ago. His expression is unreadable, a mask of indifference masking any trace of emotion. "No hard feelings, baby," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. "You just aren't her."

You don’t have the time nor the brain capacity to register his remark when he stands up, his movements purposeful as he grasps Soonyeol’s wrist firmly, before dragging her to the table on the left side of the room, heaving her up onto it with no struggle at all, as though he is lifting a butterfly who had injured it’s wing. 

Transfixed on the spot, your eyes follow Heeseung's movements as he meticulously arranges Soonyeol's body on the table. He places her hands gently on her stomach and closes her eyes, as if giving her a semblance of peace in death. The room is eerily silent, the only sound being the faint rustle of his movements.

Heeseung then walks around the table with an unsettling calm, his presence both comforting and terrifying. He plants a chaste kiss on your lips, a contrast to the violent act he just committed. "I'll be right back, baby," he murmurs softly, his voice almost soothing.

As he heads towards the door, leaving you alone with Soonyeol's lifeless body, panic and guilt surge through you. You're left with the grim reality of the situation - a situation you played a part in creating. The weight of your actions presses heavily on your conscience, threatening to crush you under its burden.

You can't bear to look at her. The sight of Soonyeol, so still and silent, is too much to handle. Turning away, you feel a deep sense of shame and regret wash over you, mingling with the fear that now grips your heart. The room feels colder, the air you breathe thicker with the weight of your guilt.

In the oppressive silence, you struggle with the knowledge of what you've done, unable to escape the haunting reality of your involvement in this tragedy. You wanted this life, but not like this, not with blood on your hands; Heeseung had promised you that much.

Heeseung returns with the ornate bowl from the altar, slamming the door shut behind him with a resounding thud that makes you jump. He locks it with a deliberate twist of the mechanic, sealing the room and adding to the claustrophobic tension. With a casual grace, he spins the priceless bowl in his hands as though it were a mere football, his nonchalance juxtaposing sharply with the gravity of the situation.

Making his way to the table, he places the bowl just above Soonyeol's head. His movements are quick and precise, a sense of urgency evident in his actions. "Come on, baby, it’s your time to shine," he urges, his voice carrying an impatient edge.

"W-what?" you stammer, barely able to form the words as the reality of what’s happening starts to sink in.

Heeseung doesn’t look at you, instead snapping his fingers and pointing towards you, "Did you bring that pretty doll I asked you to?"

The doll. The beautiful doll that you picked up earlier now takes on a sinister significance. Your mind races, slowly piecing together the grim puzzle. But as you stand frozen, struggling to process, Heeseung elaborates, confirming your worst suspicions. "We’re going to take Soonyeol’s soul from in here," he slaps her still, dead stomach with a forceful smack that makes you flinch, "and we are going to put it in there."

The innocent doll sits idly by, its painted eyes staring blankly ahead, unaware of the dark fate it has been chosen to bear. You feel sick as you realise the full extent of what Heeseung plans to do; you can’t believe this is what you caused.

Your eyes, which once couldn't look at Soonyeol, are now transfixed on her, unable to focus on anything else. You struggle to breathe, each inhale feeling like a weight pressing down on your chest.

Heeseung, growing increasingly irritated by your lack of response, strides over to you. “Fucking hell, Y/N,” he huffs, exasperation evident in his voice. As he gets close, he grabs a chunk of your hair, dragging you over to the lifeless girl and forcing you to lean over the table, your face just inches from Soonyeol’s paling features. “You asked for this,” he snarls, his voice dripping with anger and frustration.

But this isn’t what you wanted. Not at all, and he knows that. “No… this is… you said you wouldn’t kill her,” you whisper, your voice barely audible through the hushed sobs that threaten to break free. You aren’t exactly crying, unable to even process the whirlwind of emotions swirling in your head: fear, anguish, dread, curiosity, admiration.

“If you do your fucking job, then she won’t be dead, will she?” Heeseung releases his grip on your hair, smoothing it out with an almost tender touch before scanning the room for the doll. Once he spots it, he swiftly retrieves the porcelain and places it next to the bowl.

Heeseung's eyes flicker with a cold intensity as he sets everything in place, his movements precise as you watch him in awe. “Here’s what you’re going to do,” he instructs, his voice commanding and brooking no argument. “You’re going to transfer her soul into this doll. If you succeed, she’ll live. Fail, and she’s gone forever, she goes down there with all my legions, Got it?”

He sees you considering the consequences, your eyes wide with fear and uncertainty. With a sigh, he rubs his face in frustration. Deep down, he knows this is a lot for you to process and he should be somewhat more lenient to your shock, but now is not the time.

“Listen, baby, if I know the girl inside of you, then you can do this easily, okay?” His voice is gentler now, as if he is trying to reach a deeper part of you, seeking someone else within your soul.

His words strike a chord within you, and you take a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart. You nod, determination slowly replacing the paralyzing fear. “I can do this,” you whisper to yourself, though the words are meant for him as well.

“That’s my girl,” he smiles wickedly, seeing that tint of cloud form around your body, “Now repeat after me:

nrober eb tirips eht tel eerced swodahs yb

nrot eb liev eht tel ecarbme sthgiliwt ni

derrulb elballys yreve stneicna fo eugnot eht ni

draeh ron nekops rehtien sdrow eht rettu

htrae eht ssik smaebnoom erehw

htaerb sthgiliwt eht ni shpylg sti ecart

trap llahs luos eht llehs latrom eht morf rof

traeh nmelos a htiw stcafetra eseht rehtag

niht si liev eht dna ecnad swodahs nehw ruoh eht ni”

He says the lines slowly, ensuring that you copy every syllable for perfect diction. You don’t know what language this is but it is identical to the one Jongseong spoke when he called hell. The words feel heavy on your tongue, ancient and powerful, as if they carry the weight of centuries.

As you repeat the incantation, a strange sensation washes over you like you’re suddenly powerful and the words come so easily to your lips you might as well be fluent. The air in the room grows thicker, charged with an otherworldly energy that sends shivers down your spine. You focus on Heeseung’s voice, steady and commanding, guiding you through the spell until you’re saying it along with him, chanting it like these are your vows, to have and to hold. 

Heeseung takes Soonyeol's hand and cuts into her palm, dripping her blood into the stone bowl carefully while you repeat the ritual over and over again just as instructed. The bowl begins to glow with a pulsating red light, its intensity increasing with each word. He carefully takes his finger and paints an upside-down cross on the doll's forehead, but it looks more like an X with the smudge of her carmine sweetness. 

The shadows in the room seem to come alive, swirling around you in a dance that mirrors the rhythm of the incantation. The temperature drops and your breath comes out in visible puffs of mist. Heeseung’s eyes never leave you, his expression a mix of pride and anticipation. “Fuck, there you are,” he heaves out, his tongue menacingly sticking out of his mouth past his evil smile, as if he’s getting turned on by just seeing you utter the words of his mother tongue.

But so are you, or at least, your body is charged with high energy. It's as if a dormant power within you has been awakened, stirring to life with an insatiable hunger for the raw, untamed energy that tornados around you.

In this moment, you feel more alive than you have ever felt before, every sense heightened to an almost unbearable degree. The air crackles with anticipation, charged with the potent magic that hangs thick in the atmosphere. You can feel the pulse of the earth beneath your feet, the rhythmic beat of its heart synchronising with your own.

As you reach the final verse, the light from the bowl blazes brightly, casting eerie shadows across Soonyeol’s lifeless form. With the last syllable, the energy within the bowl surges outward, a tangible wave of force that knocks the breath out of your lungs. It dances its way into Soonyeol’s being, collecting pieces of her soul that are hidden in the depth of her body before drawing it out, the pure white mist following the red light energy before it guides her to the doll.

You watch in awe and terror as she flows into the doll, its porcelain face glowing with an unearthly light. Soonyeol’s body twitches, a final spasm and gasp of life before it goes completely still. The doll’s eyes now hold a flicker of life within them that was not there before. She is alive.

Once the ritual concludes and Soonyeol's soul is sealed within the doll, the room descends into an eerie darkness, the once vibrant glow of the ritual bowl fading into obscurity. The only illumination comes from the soft hues of the setting sun filtering through the window, casting long shadows that dance across the room.

Heeseung observes you closely, his eyes penetrating the darkness with an intensity that belies the gloom. He senses the subtle shift within you, a transformation he has long anticipated; that greed for your own satisfaction, to take what you want from this world, for you to come home to him. 

In his eyes, you are bathed in a vermillion aura, an ethereal glow that marks you as a being of otherworldly power. It's a sight that would be invisible to the naked human eye, but to Heeseung, it's a sign of your rightful place among the divine. In the underworld, such a sight would be revered and worshipped as a symbol of authority and dominion. And by God does he want to get on his knees to bow before you and pledge his unwavering loyalty.

You might not be able to see the glow around you, but you can feel it. It’s exhilarating, the passion and vitality coursing through your bloodstream, electrifying every nerve ending and racing to your heart and your core. There is no logical explanation for the arousal that pulses through you because what you should be feeling is confusion; why did you enjoy that? And why did you know the ritual as if it were engraved in your very being?

Noticing the subtle movement of your thighs as they press together, Heeseung's signature wicked grin returns to his face. "Oh, baby, did that make you needy?" he taunts, his voice dripping with amusement as he leans on the table, his gaze fixed on your squirming form. “Do you want me to fuck you as a reward?”

You can't deny the rising heat within you, the inexplicable lust that courses through your veins. It feels wrong, given the circumstances, yet, here you are, trapped in a moment of perverse desire, all while grappling with the implications of your actions.

Biting down on your lip, you nod, completely entranced by the sight before you. Heeseung exudes a magnetic allure, his rugged appearance heightened by the faint spatters of blood on his hands, the intensity of his gaze drawing you in like a moth to a flame. Your eyes trace the contours of his form, from the slight tilt of his neck to the tantalising glimpse of his collarbone peeking out from beneath his low-cut black t-shirt.

Interpreting your nod as consent, Heeseung seizes Soonyeol by the neck and flings her to the ground with a forceful thud, sending a shiver down your spine that's equal parts fear and exhilaration as you hear a bone crack. Heeseung doesn’t need to care about a lifeless meat suit, not when the real Soonyeol is safe and sound in the doll you hand-picked for her.

Just as the room falls into a heavy silence, punctuated only by the echo of your racing heartbeat, a frantic knocking at the door shatters the calm. Jongseong's desperate pleas slice through the air, his voice laced with worry and fear. "Soonyeol?! Baby, are you in there? I can’t hear you anymore, angel…"

The sound of his desperate voice sends a pang of guilt coursing through you. Your heart clenches at the thought of Jongseong's anguish, his unwavering love for Soonyeol evident in every word he utters, every fibre of his soul. He must have felt something wrong once Heeseung - no, you - stuffed her into the tiny doll. 

You broke apart soulmates all for your selfish gain, so you could live happily. But what about him? Jongseong risked everything to be with Soonyeol and you took it from him with the snap of a neck. You cannot imagine having a soulmate being ripped from you that suddenly.

“Y/N? Are you in there? Jongseong, is she in there, is she hurt?” Jaeyun’s voice shadows Jongseong’s sobs as he asks questions that his elder doesn’t know the answer to; his focus is not on you but on his lover who he knows has suffered a terrible fate.

Your gaze shifts to Heeseung, searching for answers in the depths of his dark eyes. "Why can’t he feel her? I thought their souls were connected, not their bodies?" you ask, confusion clouding your thoughts.

Heeseung nods, his movements sleek and calculated as he approaches you. "She was his as long as she was alive, but she sold her soul to me, remember? As soon as she flatlines, she’s mine to own, not anyone else," he explains coldly, his tone devoid of remorse or sympathy.

Noticing your lust for the darker side wavering due to guilt, Heeseung tries to pull you back to him, his hands cradling your face as he forces you to look into his deep eyes. “Don’t listen to them, baby. You have spent your whole life searching for this moment. Don’t let them take it away from you.”

“But-”

"Shhh," Heeseung interjects, pressing a gentle, lover-like kiss to your lips. "Your desires are all that matters now. Think about it - if he truly loved her, he wouldn’t have sinned for you, fucked you like that behind her back." His words are calculated, an attempt to envelop you in the darkness, to paint your world in sinister shades of red and black. He watches your dark aura flicker as you take in his words and silently agree, satisfaction gleaming in his eyes.

Jongseong’s desperate cries from outside the door tear at your conscience, his pleas a stark contrast to Heeseung’s poisonous whispers. “Don’t listen to him, Y/N. You’re a good girl, remember?” he begs, his voice filled with sorrow and desperation. You hadn’t known they could hear you from here, then again, the walls are thin, hence why each time Jongseong asked to see you, it would be in a faraway room from Jaeyun or Sunghoon. Heeseung was right about one thing, he sinned with you, for you.

Jongseong’s anguish is palpable, his regret weighing heavily on him. He knows he’s betrayed Soonyeol, seeking forbidden pleasure with you. Yet, something within you drew him to sin, almost compelled him to become the man he swore he would never be.

Heeseung’s mocking grin widens, feeding off his brother’s inner turmoil. "You see, baby, everyone has a dark side. Even angels fall," he murmurs, his voice laced with satisfaction. He steps closer, his presence overwhelming, his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that makes it hard to breathe. “And why can he have everything he wants but you can’t?”

He makes a valid point, the feeling in your chest wavering as you think about it. Everyone around you has gotten their desires met, whether in relationships, financial stability, or their dream job. Jongseong gave in and got Soonyeol, Jaeyun wanted to be loved and got a family who cherishes him, and Sunghoon wanted to break free from the cell that kept him captive and a master who was out for blood, and he got solace in these walls.

Why can’t you be selfish like them? Why should you feel guilty for accepting an offer that all of them did so easily?

Watching you fight back, Heeseung's eyes pulse with a vivid red, knowing he needs only one final push to bring you back into his embrace, to unveil the true you. “Do you think I would have brought you here if you weren’t special?” he asks, stepping closer with predatory grace.

Confused, you knit your brows together and shake your head, searching his eyes for answers.

“My sweet, baby. I had to get you home,” he starts, softly running his fingers through your hair. “I’ve spent centuries on this earth, bound to one whore after another, searching high and low for my other half. It was so difficult, sweetheart, but I finally found you.”

You lean into his touch as he gently scratches behind your ear, your mind whirling with his words. What does he mean? You hadn’t met him before that day with Mia. When did you ever ask for his help?

Sensing your confusion, he continues. “You were so lonely, moving to the big city all on your own with no one to keep you safe. I heard you call out for guidance, for salvation once life bruised you. I felt compelled to help you, to bring you a lifetime of happiness.”

Breathing heavily, you shake your head. “I never called out to you, not like the others did.”

“Exactly. I could hear you even when God was meant to pick up your silent prayers, yet they filtered to me. Do you know why?” he asks, stroking your cheek softly as you shake your head. “You’re my girl, my beautiful Alaida. I searched heaven and earth for you the day Lucifer took you from me.”

Beelzebub and Alaida, two lovers torn apart due to Lucifer’s wrath. Alaida had made the mistake of asking for a legion of her own, to be respected on par with the others because she possessed powers that surpassed the Princes. She was beautiful, cunning, a Princess in her own right. But Lucifer, fearing she would surpass him, conspired with Mammon and Leviathan to kill her. It took three men to subdue one woman who hadn't even harnessed all her powers. It was a pathetic attempt to keep their dicks swinging low and the power in their hands.

Despite her death, Beelzebub never stopped searching. He knew the fire of her power could never be extinguished by pretenders to godhood, and that somewhere, she must have found a place to hide. She had often spoken of Earth, envying humans' simple existence, so he knew she would have sought refuge in a human vessel.

For years, Beelzebub answered any calls that might be her in disguise, hoping she would find someone worthy to keep her safe. Soonyeol was one such woman he thought might harbour his lover, and so he answered her call with hope.

But then, you cried out to him, turning his suspicions around. It was impossible to summon him in the Earthrealm without chanting his name, yet you did. Your soul, Alaida’s being, reached out to find him.

You breathe heavily, the weight of his words pressing on you. “I’m not Alaida… I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you whisper, though your thoughts scream otherwise. You've always felt a pull to Heeseung, but being his lost lover is something you cannot grasp.

“Oh, but baby, you are,” he says slowly, a slight laughter escaping his lips. “Once I heard you and had my suspicions, I convinced Soonyeol to place the ad for a house sitter and sent her to the other side of the world to collect an owed soul. Your friend Mia was an obstacle, but it didn’t take long to make that spineless bitch cower away.” Heeseung continues, planting soft, affectionate kisses on your face. “You are my love. I just had to tie myself to your soul to see it. Looking at you now, Y/N, with that power sparking from your soul, I know my Alaida is deep inside you. We are connected, you and I.”

“Y/N, don’t listen to him! He’s lying!” Jongseong’s raspy voice cuts through, causing your eyes to flicker to the door.

Heeseung won’t stand for the interruption, drawing your attention back with a gentle slap to your face, his cold rings adding to the shock of his actions. His eyes convey what his mouth does not, and suddenly, you do not wish to be guided by Jongseong; you need to be taken by Heeseung.

There’s a storm raging in your chest, an electrifying tempest that tells you Heeseung is right, that Alaida is indeed inside you. This fierce courage you’ve summoned to confront literal demons and defy the infernal powers - it had to be her. The transformation from the person who once quivered at the thought of answering a phone call from an unknown number to standing resolute before Heeseung speaks volumes. His presence ignites a power within you, a fire that feels both foreign and intimately familiar, like a lover’s caress stirring memories of a past life.

“You feel her, don’t you?” Heeseung’s voice is husky, dripping with dark allure, as if he’s reading your innermost thoughts. “I don’t know why she chose you, but you have to let her shine. She saw something in you that she hasn’t seen in over 600 years. You’re special, Y/N.”

Fear and awe mix in your trembling voice as you ask, “…will I lose myself if I do?”

Heeseung’s gaze softens, his eyes burning with a mix of fervour and tenderness. He moves closer, his presence overwhelming and comforting at the same time.

“Y/N, please, I don’t know what’s going on but I need you to listen to Jongseong, okay?” Jaeyun’s voice penetrates the heavy atmosphere, his confused desperation evident as he shouts through the door, desperately trying to break through the barrier both physical and metaphysical.

The air thickens with tension, every heartbeat echoing like a drum in your ears. Heeseung's grip tightens slightly, grounding you in the present. His touch is both an anchor and a reminder of the raw power that lies within you. The pull towards Heeseung, towards your true self as Alaida, feels like a gravitational force, irresistible and consuming.

Outside, Jongseong’s pleas grow more frantic, each word a dagger aimed at your conscience. “Y/N, don’t give in to him. Remember who you are!” His voice cracks with emotion, a stark contrast to Heeseung’s unwavering composure.

Heeseung’s eyes bore into yours, unyielding and confident. “You won’t lose yourself, my love. You’ll become who you were always meant to be.” 

As Heeseung’s words weave their spell around you, the power within you stirs, a dormant volcano on the brink of eruption. The weight of the decision presses down, yet there’s a clarity amidst the chaos. The pull of Alaida’s power, the connection shared with Heeseung, feels undeniably right. Heeseung watches in awe as the red light around you blossoms like a tulip in spring, unfurling into its true, ethereal form.

You stand on the precipice of your decision and the room around you seems to hold its breath, waiting. The doll with Soonyeol’s soul watches with unblinking eyes, a silent witness to the battle waging within you. The echoes of Jongseong and Jaeyun’s cries linger, a haunting reminder of the consequences of your actions.

Closing your eyes, you listen to your heart, letting its desire guide you.

And your heart wants Heeseung.

Opening your eyes, you gaze into Heeseung’s, your need to be consumed by this ancient love reflected in your expression. With a deep breath, you nod, surrendering to the inevitable. His eyes light up with a mixture of triumph and adoration as he steps closer, his presence overwhelming and comforting.

“My love, I’ve missed you so much,” he breathes out, his voice trembling with emotion.

Before you can respond, he captures your lips in a fervent kiss, enveloping you in his longing. The sensation of Heeseung’s black heart being yours to cherish sparks an overwhelming joy within you. His tongue entwines with yours, his kiss filled with a desperate passion that speaks of centuries of yearning. His hands tangle in your hair, gripping tightly as he pulls you closer, guiding you to the edge of the table where Soonyeol once lay.

The table’s cold surface presses against your back as Heeseung’s body moulds to yours, his touch igniting a fire that burns brighter with each passing second. His lips trail from your mouth to your jawline, then down your neck, leaving a scorching path in their wake. Every kiss, every touch, feels like a reclamation of a love that was cruelly stolen. 

“Y/N, you’re so fucking perfect I just want to rip you apart,” he murmurs into your nape, his hands gripping your waist possessively.

You pull his head back, your eyes locking deeply into his, a storm of emotions swirling within them. “Don’t go easy on me,” you smile, almost innocently but with a daring challenge. He crumbles beneath you, his resolve melting as he hears his lover's whispered words leave your mouth.

“Fuck, I wouldn’t dream of it,” he laughs wickedly before claiming your mouth with his once again. His kiss is fierce and demanding, pulling you to sit at the edge of the table. His hands, strong and unyielding, move with purpose, tearing away your clothes piece by piece. Each shred of fabric falling to the floor is a testament to his strength and desperation to feel your skin against his.

The room fills with the sound of tearing cloth and your heavy breaths, the air charged with anticipation and raw need. Heeseung’s eyes devour you, his gaze dark and intense, as though he’s trying to memorize every inch of your exposed skin. His hands follow his eyes, caressing and gripping, leaving no part of you untouched.

“You’re mine,” he growls, his voice low and possessive, a promise and a declaration all at once. His hands slide up your thighs, spreading them apart as he sinks to his knees before you. “All mine.”

The words send a shiver down your spine, anticipation and desire coursing through you. His hands grip your thighs firmly, his fingers digging into your flesh as he gazes up at you with a hunger that makes your heart race. The sight of him kneeling between your legs, his dark eyes filled with unbridled lust and possessiveness, is enough to make your breath hitch.

Heeseung's mouth hovers just above your skin, his nose ghosting over your most sensitive areas. He takes his time, savouring the moment, his eyes never leaving yours. The tension builds, a delicious agony as you wait for him to touch you.

When his lips finally make contact, it's like an electric jolt, pleasure radiating from the point of contact throughout your entire body. His tongue traces a path along your inner thigh, the sensation both torturous and exhilarating. Heeseung's touch is rough yet tender, a perfect blend of dominance and affection that leaves you breathless.

Biting at your skin, he leaves a trail of teeth marks as a sign of possession. The sensation makes your body squirm, needing him even more than you have over the past two months. With Alaida swirling inside of you, you feel even more desperate for his touch, her soul craving to be claimed by Beelzebub once more.

Finally, his mouth attaches itself where you need it the most, his tongue working on your clit with eagerness. Each flick of his muscle sends waves of pleasure coursing through you, building the heat in your core to a fever pitch. He knows exactly how to drive you wild, his movements deliberate and skilled as he worships you with his mouth.

You arch your back, pressing yourself closer to him, urging him to take you higher. He responds with a growl of approval, his hands gripping your thighs tightly as he delves deeper into your pleasure. The intensity of his touch is overwhelming, pushing you closer and closer to the edge with each passing moment.

His teeth sink down on your clit with force which makes you howl out, mixing with the sobs of the angels who occupy the other side of the door. “Fuck, Heeseung, do it again,” you huff out, grasping at his roots to urge him on.

“You always were a glutton for punishment,” he sneers, biting down on your sensitive flesh. The sting is sharp, sending a jolt through your body that leaves you craving more. It all starts to make sense now, the love you had for the punishment Jongseong gave you on the altar; it wasn’t a newfound kink, it was Alaida - she loves it rough.

And now, so do you.

Heeseung’s mouth is relentless, his tongue and lips working with expert precision as he rises from his knees. He doesn’t break contact for a second, lifting your hips effortlessly to meet his mouth. Your back lies flat on the table, your body arching instinctively towards him, each touch of his tongue sending waves of pleasure through you. His hands grip your thighs firmly, holding you in place, their strength both reassuring and dominant.

The room is filled with the sound of your ragged breaths and his eager, hungry ministrations. Heeseung’s eyes lock onto yours, their dark intensity burning with desire. 

Your hands clutch at the edge of the table, knuckles white from the force of your grip as you lose yourself in the sensation. Every nerve ending is alive with electricity, every inch of your skin hypersensitive to his touch, the warmth of his lips against your most intimate places.

Heeseung’s mouth is everywhere at once, his tongue circling your clit before plunging deep inside you, exploring and tasting with an insatiable hunger. The pressure builds within you, a coil winding tighter and tighter, each flick of his tongue pushing you closer to the edge. His fingers dig into your flesh, marking you as his, a physical reminder of his claim over you.

Moving your hips in a rocking motion, he guides you to ride his face while he works in tandem with his tongue to bring you to the edge. His lips, soft yet demanding, latch onto your swollen clit with a hunger that mirrors your own. He sucks and nibbles with relentless vigour, coaxing waves of pleasure to cascade over you in an unending tide. The combination of his tongue and lips creates a symphony of sensation that brings you to the edge.

“I'm cumming, Heeseung," you gasp, your voice heavy with yearning as your body convulses with the force of your climax. Every fibre of your being ignites with pleasure, sending sparks of ecstasy coursing through your veins.

Heeseung's name tumbles from your lips like a fervent prayer, a plea for release and surrender. With each pulse of pleasure, you feel yourself lost in a whirlwind of sensation.

And then it happens. A bolt of white-hot ecstasy shoots through you, shattering your senses as you spiral into the abyss of euphoria. Your entire body convulses with the force of your release, every muscle tensing and relaxing in perfect harmony with the waves of pleasure crashing over you.

Heeseung doesn't let up, his mouth continuing to work its magic as you ride out the aftershocks of your orgasm. He drinks in every moan and whimper, every twitch and tremble, savouring the taste of your pleasure as if it were the finest delicacy known to man.

Finally, as the last echoes of your cries fade into the ether, you collapse against the table, your body spent and sated. Heeseung's lips linger against your skin, pressing soft kisses against your thighs before letting go of your hips as you bask in the afterglow of your passion.

With a firm hand, he delivers a sharp slap to your clit, the sting sending a jolt of pleasure coursing through your body. Your back arches in response, your breath catching in your throat as the sensation radiates from your core to your shoulders. He revels in the power he holds over you, his smirk widening as he watches your body react to him. 

His touch is both punishment and reward as he continues, “You’re going to cum again,” he growls, not as a prediction but an order; one you are happy to obey. 

As the intensity increases with every slap, you find yourself squirming, aching to get away but longing to stay and take it. Heeseung is skilled at taking you to the edge, and he takes pride in your every sound of agony and gasp.

“T-too much, Heeseung.” Your plea escapes your lips in a desperate whimper, the overwhelming sensation of your overstimulated nub pushing you to the brink of your boundaries. It's a dizzying mix of pleasure and suffering, with each touch sending shockwaves of sensations rushing through your body.

“You can take it,” he says authoritatively, landing another harsh slap to your reddened pussy. “Once you cum, I’ll stop.”

So you relax your body as much as you can given the circumstances, focusing on the rapture of it. Heeseung watches you give in and licks his lips, using the opportunity to unleash his sadistic need to power over you. With rapid hits, he doesn’t give your clit time to breathe as he smacks it over and over again.

Somehow, the faster he’s going, the more enjoyable it is, “Holy shit, Hee!” you scream out. Your hands claw at your thighs as you force them to stay open, enjoying the beating your heat is receiving. Your body bucks against his relentless assault, the sting of each impact resonates deep within you, igniting a primal fire that courses through your veins.

“Such a perfect little princess,” he chides, alternating his hands to quicken the pace. 

As his fingers graze down your pussy with each hit, you can feel yourself teetering on the edge of oblivion. The rhythm of his assault becomes hypnotic, driving you closer and closer to the brink with every stroke. Your skin tingles with anticipation, every nerve ending alive with the electric charge of desire.

And then, just when you think you can't take anymore, it happens. Your body convulses with the force of your release, pleasure exploding through every fibre of your being as you cry out his name. The intensity of it all is overwhelming, a whirlwind of ecstasy that consumes you whole.

Heeseung's movements falter for a moment, his touch gentling as he guides you through the aftershocks of your orgasm. His fingers trace soothing patterns against your skin, each caress a balm to the raw, pulsating heat between your legs. 

Your essence drips down your pussy onto the table, creating a sheen that Heeseung can see his reflection in. His eyes are blown out red, succumbing to the demon within him as he brings you gratification.

As you descend from the soaring heights of bliss, you quiver from exhaustion. Heeseung's lips brush over your flesh, planting sweet kisses on your thighs while murmuring words of appreciation and devotion. 

“You did well, baby. So fucking good for me,” he utters into your skin. Heeseung's lips trail a path of reverence up your body. Each kiss feels like a benediction, a testament to the intensity of your connection. As he reaches your tummy, his tongue darts out to taste the salty-sweet sheen of sweat, his movements slow and deliberate.

The tenderness of his touch contrasts sharply with the raw passion that still lingers in the air “You’re mine, all mine,” he whispers against your skin like a mantra, affirming your worth and igniting a spark of warmth.

With each kiss and lick, he worships your body as though you are a sacred temple, his devotion evident in every caress. And as he finally reaches your breasts, his lips envelop one nipple in a gentle suck, giving it attention as it stands proudly for him.

His fingers glide up the curves of your body, tracing delicate trails that elicit a gasp from your lips. A smirk dances across his face as he captures the sound, his nails leaving faint imprints along the way. With a playful tug, he ensnares your bud between his teeth, pulling at it before releasing with a teasing flourish.

Taking hold of your throat, he draws you closer, his gaze ravenous as he savours every contour of your face. “I’m going to fuck you so good, baby, you’ll be crying out for God to save you.” His words make you mewl out, chasing his lips with yours as you seek his unholy kisses, yet he denies you, shaking his head playfully. “Bad girls get kisses, so show me how bad you can be.”

Without breaking his gaze, you nod and shimmy yourself once again to the edge of the table, spreading your legs as wide as they can go, showing your eagerness to please him. The sight before him makes Heeseung’s eyes pulse and his doll shell shiver. You’re a vision no higher power could ever create.

You’re a gift from hell.

Positioning himself at your entrance, he plunges in with unbridled urgency, sending waves of shock and lust through your body. The suddenness of his movement catches you off guard, but the sensation is electrifying, sparking a starving hunger deep within you. 

He sets a steady rhythm, thrusting into you with determination to ensure that this is the best fuck of your life, to make sure you know that he is the only one that can give you what you need. 

Your walls clench around him in response to his fastening pace, your body instinctively welcoming him as he delves deeper, the tip of his cock hitting your deep spot. Each movement is calculated and deliberate, each thrust a testament to his demonic desire as he sets a punishing flow that leaves you trembling with pleasure.

With a raw intensity, he takes you roughly, his cock sliding effortlessly in and out of your wet heat. A moan escapes your lips as you feel him stuff you to the brink, the sensation overwhelming in its intensity. He's holding nothing back, fucking into you the way he knows you like, the way his Alaida likes it.

“You’re so good at taking my cock,” he grunts out through gritted teeth. “Tell them how good it feels to be fucked like this.” By them you know he means the two weeping angels who are still outside of the door, their pleas for you to stop swallowed by your loud moans.

“I love your cock. You fuck me so good, Heeseung. I want you to fuck me forever,” you exclaim, gripping his neck as stability, staring intensely into his beautiful crimson eyes. You steal a kiss, closing your eyes at his soft lips melting into yours. He doesn’t reprimand you for it, instead, he ravishes you with mirrored passion, his hips never faltering.

"You don't need to sell your soul for me to grant that wish, baby," Heeseung growls between heated kisses, his voice rough with desire.

You respond with a desperate moan, arching your back to meet his every thrust. "Don't stop," you plead, your nails digging into his skin as you cling to him, lost in the overwhelming sensations.

Heeseung's growl reverberates through the room as he bucks his hips with increasing urgency, driving deeper into you with each thrust. His voice, rough with desire, commands your attention. "Tell them you belong to me, and I'll give you whatever you need. I'll go as long as you want."

Without hesitation, you nod fervently, your voice hoarse as you cry out his name along with the words he craves to hear. "I belong to you, Heeseung. Only you," you gasp, the declaration punctuated by a sharp intake of breath as pleasure courses through your veins.

His hand tightens around your throat, a rough but controlled grip that sends shivers down your spine. In one swift motion, he pushes you back onto the table roughly, the sudden crash of your skull on the wooden surface causing your head to crack and spin with dizzying intensity. Yet, far from unsettling you, the sensation only serves to heighten the exhilarating rush of desire pumping in your body.

Pushing your head to the side with a firm grip, Heeseung forces you to face the sight of Soonyeol's lifeless form. The vibrant energy that once animated her is now replaced by a haunting stillness, her body lying pale and broken before you.

"Tell her," Heeseung's voice is low, his tone commanding as he demands your acknowledgement of the grim reality before you. 

You should be repulsed, the sight of Soonyeol's lifeless body enough to shatter the euphoria of the moment. But instead, there's an unsettling allure, a twisted fascination in knowing that what once belonged to her is now yours and she has no way to steal it back from you. Her dolls, her house, Heeseung -  it all belongs to you now, a chilling testament to the power you hold over her legacy.

"I'm Heeseung's, only his," you declare, your voice wavering slightly as conflicting emotions swirl within you. Alaida gleams at the sight, happy that her lover is now only hers, but you still feel sorrow for the girl. 

Conflicting emotions swirl within you like a tumultuous storm, battling for dominance as you and Heeseung's ancient love wrestle for control of your consciousness. But deep down, you understand that you are her now, and she is you - merged together in a dance of shared existence. There is no longer a distinction between you versus her; she chose you to carry her soul, binding you together in a singular entity.

In the wake of Alaida's inhumane recklessness, it falls upon you to navigate the delicate balance between humanity and evil. Despite the darkness that threatens to consume you, you cling to the flicker of compassion that still burns within your heart, a beacon of light amidst the shadows. You had to fight against her demons with your light.

Heeseung's grip tightens on your head as he pounds into you with unrelenting force, his touch igniting a fiery ache that resonates through your exhausted body. With each harsh thrust, he draws you closer to the edge, his touch a symphony of sensation that pushes you towards the brink of ecstasy.

Your walls tighten around him, the feeling of your impending release building with each thrust. As you sense yourself slipping over the edge, elation consuming you in its fiery embrace, you try to banish thoughts of his old minder from your thoughts. The sight of her is far from erotic, and you struggle to maintain focus amidst the conflicting desires of Alaida that tug at your consciousness.

"Heeseung, please," you plead, your voice a desperate cry for respite from the haunting images that threaten to intrude upon your pleasure. 

Relenting to your plea, Heeseung releases his hold on your head, his hips slowing their frenzied pace as he responds to your need for a change in position. With a deft movement, he tosses your legs over his shoulder, his hands gripping your hips firmly as he locks you in place, your focus now on him as he leans over to kiss you.

The messy buck of Heeseung's hips betrays his impending climax, his jaw slack and eyes screwed shut as he fights to maintain control. The sight of you, glistening and writhing before him, threatens to throw him over the edge, but he grinds his teeth, determined to hang on just long enough for you both to reach the peak together.

With a newfound sense of intensity, he resumes his actions, expertly rubbing your clit. The rawness infuses your body, sparking a fire that becomes hotter with each passing moment.

"Cum for me, baby. Do it," Heeseung orders through the veil of pleasure, his voice husky with want as he drives you to release. In this moment of shared intimacy, there is no place for doubt as you give in to the euphoria, your shouts combining with his as you both succumb to overpowering pleasure.

You clench around him as you cum for the third time tonight. Every muscle in your body tenses as you reach the heights of your pleasure. Heeseung's release joins yours, his seed shooting into you and coating your walls. The sensation of his warmth flooding your depths only serves to intensify your own climax, amplifying the euphoria that courses through your veins.

He kisses you as your heartbeat steadies, his tongue whirling in your mouth as he pumps slowly into you before pausing his hips to let the final flow of his cum sit deep inside you. There’s that shine of red light as you take all of him, all that he offers. 

"Y/N..." Jaeyun's voice breaks the intimate moment, a soft plea tinged with desperation as his fist drags down the door. You can almost hear the tears in his eyes and the sorrow in his voice as he realises he has lost you; the doll, defeated, reflects the anguish of being replaced, claimed by another.

Heeseung strokes your face gently, his touch a soothing balm to your conflicted soul. He sees the war in your eyes, the shift between lust and guilt. "He doesn't understand you like I do, baby," he murmurs, his voice a blend of affection and firmness. His words wrap around you, reassuring you of the unique connection you share. 

You battle within yourself as you feel Alaida settle inside of you. If she has chosen you, then that means she must have always been here with you, through everything, a silent passenger in your life. But now, thanks to Heeseung, she has made herself known, you’ve let her in to become one with you.

She feels both euphoric and dangerous, her presence a heady mix of power and peril. Your heart aches to leap out of your chest, to be with Jaeyun, to comfort him in his pain, to tell him you're sorry and that it will never happen again. Yet, her yearning to stay with Heeseung, who cradles you with possessive tenderness, is overwhelmingly strong.

You realise you will need to find a balance between you and Alaida if this is how you are to live. You can sense the darkness within her, the same ominous aura that surrounds Heeseung, but you cling to your humanity, determined not to lose yourself completely. If she is to stay, she must let you take the lead.

And right now, you’re in desperate need to fix this.

Heeseung sees your demeanour change and slowly slides out of you with a wet slick, his cock glistening with your juices. Running his fingers through your hair which for some reason opens the floodgates of your eyes, the tears that you couldn’t weep earlier when facing Soonyeol suddenly come crashing down. 

“Y/N, why are you crying?” he asks puzzled, shushing you softly, “You wanted this life and now you have it. You should be happy.”

His tone is understanding but you can sense the annoyance underlining his words. He knows you’re still a human but he didn’t think you would be crying for the sake of a girl who you hardly knew. But it wasn’t just her you are crying for, it’s her dolls, your dolls. How are you meant to live happily in this house when all of them but Heeseung will probably detest you?

Even the thought sends a new rush of disdain to your heart, eliciting another sob from your lips. “I didn’t want it like this, the others will hate me and I can’t live like that,” you cry, sucking in sharp breaths to self-soothe yourself and prevent yourself from hyperventilating. Although you’re going through emotional turmoil, it’s nice to know that you’re still you after all.

“If they hate you, I’ll kill them,” Heeseung says, shrugging his shoulders and wiping your tears away, “If any of them even look at you the wrong way I will make sure they suffer.”

You don’t want that, you want nothing but their happiness inside this mansion and with what you’ve done, that might be hard for them to achieve. If Heeseung kills them or tortures them in any way, then it would only hurt you more. The tears flow freely as you think about the dolls and their fate, clinging to Heeseung’s wrists as you squeeze. “Heeseung, please,” you beg with the Prince, glancing up at him in hopes the waterworks are enough to persuade him to leave them unharmed.

He can’t blame them for hating you when you banished their lover to the hollow cell of the porcelain doll.

Rolling his eyes, he huffs out a frustrated growl. “Okay, I hear you, baby. Stop fucking crying.” His voice is curt and authoritative, but as you cower slightly, he softens. He places a tender kiss on your nose, his demeanour shifting from unimpressed to slightly more compassionate. Now that you harbour his first love in your heart, he’s become a bit more lenient with you.

“Just close your eyes and cover your eyes,” he murmurs, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. “Don’t move until I tell you to, okay?”

Obeying, you nod and close your eyes, your hands pressed against the canals of your ears. You cannot hear or see anything but just to make sure, Heeseung places his hands over yours and presses tight. The pressure on your head is sore but you grit and bear it.

He keeps you like this for a while, the very faint sound of his voice vibrating in your skull as the decibels run from his mouth down his doll form. You wonder if this is it? If he has found his Alaida, surely he could just whisk you out of this body and into a doll just as he had done Soonyeol. Your soul is merged with his lovers but that doesn’t mean you’re safe. Maybe he is already sick of you, maybe-

“Open your eyes, Princess,” he utters lowly, releasing his grasp from your head and kissing your forehead. 

He can’t get rid of you, because he loves you. Not as Alaida but as Y/N. His actions speak what he refuses to. There’s a new version of Heeseung standing in front of you, the version you witnessed as he fucked you a few weeks ago, the demon in him relenting to make way for his humanity to shine through. Heeseung said you were his and only his and he meant every word of it.

That does beg to question: what he has just done, if nothing to you?

You blink your eyes open and strain to focus your hearing. Silence greets you—no more cries from Jaeyun, no banging on the door from Jongseong, nothing at all. The first emotion you feel is fear, a petrifying dread that he might have taken them away from you. You cannot bear to lose them because then what was all of this for?

"Heeseung," you whisper, your voice trembling. "Where are they? What have you done?"

Heeseung's eyes soften momentarily as he strokes your cheek, but there's a sinister glint in his eyes. "They're fine," he reassures you, his voice low and deceptively soothing. "I haven’t hurt them... yet. I’ve rewound their soul clock to an hour ago. Anything that happened within the past hour is lost on them."

A shiver runs down your spine at his words, a stark reminder of the power he wields and the casual way he manipulates the lives around him. "What if they remember?" you ask, trying to keep the fear out of your voice.

Heeseung's smile is cold, his grip on your cheek tightening slightly. "They won’t, but if they do... well, I have ways of ensuring their silence." His tone is almost playful, but the underlying menace is unmistakable. “But if we want to keep this between us right now, we have some cleaning up to do.”

Swiftly, he moves to grab Soonyeol’s body, carrying her with disconcerting ease to the freestanding wardrobe and stuffing her in there. You sit in stunned silence, watching as he disposes of the lifeless form with a casual efficiency that makes your blood run cold. The contrast between his tenderness towards you and his ruthless treatment of others leaves you reeling.

You can't believe how easily everything has turned in your favour, or how effortlessly Heeseung wields his power. His dominance is both intoxicating and terrifying, and you realise just how deeply you're entangled in his web.

Heeseung closes the wardrobe door with a finality that sends a shiver down your spine. He turns back to you, his expression a mix of satisfaction and possessiveness. "See, Princess? There's nothing we can't handle together," he says, his voice low and smooth. “We will keep her in there for now until I move her car.  Can you distract them, baby?” 

Picking up your clothes, he hands them to you before getting himself dressed. Time is not on his side before Jongseong starts asking questions.

You look around the space and breathe a sigh of relief. Of course, it’s wrong to want your cake and eat it too, but nothing feels as good as this moment. This house, the dolls you love so deeply—they are all yours to own. And you have one Lord of the Flies to thank.

“Heeseung?” you begin, hopping off the table and walking to hug him tight. “Thank you.”

Shaking his head, he wraps his arms around you and kisses the crown of your head. “I will give you anything you want in this life. Anything for my girl.” Drawing back, you stare up at him, any emotion but gratification and love now vanished—it's amazing how quickly a guilty conscience can be smothered by love.

“Thank you for bringing her to me,” he whispers. You think he is talking to you directly, gratitude flowing in his words as you brought his Princess here. But he is talking to Alaida. The ancient demon knew you would be the perfect person to love Heeseung just as she had, and that is why you were chosen.

As you finish dressing, Heeseung's eyes follow your movements with a predatory intensity. “Distract them well, baby,” he says, his voice softening into a dangerous whisper. “Make sure they don’t suspect a thing. And put this doll back where you found it.”

Heeseung reaches around to grab the doll and kisses it softly, finalising his relationship with the soul within. He hands her to you with care, much more tender than the body she possessed. You like to think that the fondness he had for Soonyeol wasn’t just in the hopes that she was his long-lost lover but because they formed a bond. Perhaps that has more to do with your hope that Beelzebub withholds some humanity inside him in the form of Heeseung.

“Lock the door when you leave,” he asks, planting one final kiss on your forehead before retreating to the entrance to rid the house of Soonyeol’s car before the other dolls see.

You hold Soonyeol carefully, feeling the weight of the soul it contains. The doll's eyes seem to stare back at you, empty yet full of a lingering presence. You exit the room and lock it as instructed, cradling her in your arms as you walk up the hallway. The walk there is tiresome, in all honesty, you would just shove her on the first available spot but that’s just Alaida talking, you want to give her the respect she deserves. It’s the least you could do considering you did this to her.

Placing it gently in its original spot, you take a moment to steady yourself. You straighten her purple-tinted dress and fix her hair fondly, hoping that Soonyeol could at least find some peace inside the beautiful girl. The blood from Soonyeol’s body is still marked on the doll, so you quickly lick your thumb and wipe it away, the red staining your fingers.

Staring down at the blood, you feel compelled to suck the crimson up like a vampire in need of a feast. The metallic scent fills your nostrils, intoxicating and primal. You bring your thumb back to your lips and sip the blood, savouring her taste on your buds; she is sweet, just like her soul. The warmth of the blood sends a shiver of delight through you, a macabre indulgence that leaves you yearning for more.

Just in time, Jongseong appears beside you. Your stomach churns with dread, wondering if he would remember anything at all from the previous hour. Panic flares momentarily in your chest, but you force it down, steeling yourself.

To your relief, Jongseong doesn’t seem upset. Instead, he kisses your forehead tenderly, his lips lingering with a brotherly warmth. He gently wipes away the tears that had crusted on your face from earlier. “You’re going to miss this place, huh?” he asks, oblivious to the truth surrounding him.

Now is the time to put those drama classes you took when you were 14 to good use and fake it until you make it. Nodding pitifully, you pout up at him, your eyes shimmering with feigned sorrow. “I’m going to miss all of you more than the cleaning, I’ll say that,” you giggle, reaching for his hand, interlocking your fingers together.

The action makes Jongseong mirror your pout, his expression softening as he buys every word you say. “Fuck, I think we’ll all miss you, Jaeyun mostly though.” He goes to say more but he stops himself, making you tilt your head in wonder. A flicker of something crosses his face, a hint of a secret he’s holding back. 

Brushing it off, he shakes his head and smiles, trying to dispel whatever thoughts had crossed his mind. “Soonyeol isn’t home yet. Do you want a cup of coffee while we wait?”

This is your chance to keep them distracted, to lure them away from this side of the mansion while Heeseung cleans up your mess. With a beaming grin, you shake your head in agreement, “I would love one. Let’s grab the others.”

Pulling him in the direction of the kitchen, he wraps an arm around you and walks alongside you, unknowing of what is to come. You glance back at Soonyeol and suddenly, you see a tear fall from her ceramic eyes. She’s crying because she is watching you steal her life, her love, and she cannot do one thing about it.

A smirk plasters on your face and the red in your eye gleams at her sorrow, happiness filling your chest as you finally come to terms with the fact that your dreams have finally come true.

You’re home.

taglist: @nshmrarki @kgneptun @addictedtohobi @parksunghoonsgf @chaewonshoney @chiiiiiiiiis @lilyuwon @rayofsunshineeee @moon7jay @erehkinnie30 @brownsugarbaybee @minniejenseo @woninluv @jaysluvs @fakeuwus @capri-cuntz @ash024 @who-tf-soddhi @bambangan @vousty @heeseungspookie @alvojake @yorukoshii @haechonly @riftanswhore @emi-en @branchrkive @featjunranghae @thejjrl @nyxtwixx @sunghoonnsupremacy @nctislifue @itsnikitty @enhypenlovre

[catherinnn]

This kinda inspired by one of your enemies to lovers stories where eddie says “you wouldn’t be able to handle me” but reader instead says “oh yeah i couldn’t handle the two-centimeter-pussy-defeater bc id because i would be too busy laughing my ass off at your angry half inch.”

Sorry i have been holding that one in for quite some time 😤

Beg for it

enemies to lovers - one bed trope - eddie munson x fem!reader

warnings: SMUT +18, piv, oral ( f & m), choking, degradation, unprotected sex (don't do this, this is fiction), porn with plot, fluffy at the end.

a/n: thank you requesting babe, hope you love it!

5.7k words

“Game night at my place, the whole group will be there” Steve announces after greeting you. You went to visit him and Robin since you were already near the place. Also, maybe you could find a movie to watch tonight.

“Ugh, really? They all said yes already?” you ask.

“If you’re expecting me to say that Munson hasn’t, then I have bad news” he confirms.

“Fuck”

“You’re not even trying to be friends at this point” he complains.

“It’s impossible with him being so mean all the time” you tried to defend yourself but Robin was quick to refute your statement.

“You sure are mean to him as well, don’t act so innocent”

“Well, he started it! I didn’t even know him and he started with the jokes and asshole comments” you weren’t lying.

You were new in town, and new at the summer job your dad had found for you. He wanted you to already have some experience at working so you could make a better curriculum later. There was were you met Nancy and instantly became good friends. So much so that she had introduced you to her friend group she has had for years already. Steve, Nance, Jonathan, Robin and Eddie. The former four had been sweethearts to you since you first met them, easily becoming good friends as well. The problem was with the latter. The night Nancy had introduced you to everyone, he started being a little distant and cold towards you. You tried not to feel offended since he could just be shy or introverted, but then he started throwing snide comments and sarcastic mocking your way. You were not going to sit there and take that, so you equally threw cutting remarks at him.

That’s how the current war with him started. And that’s why your friends keep insisting with this forced proximity, so we could all be a happy family.

But it was useless, you and Eddie do agree on that.

The game night arrived that Friday. You were at the Harrington household with several board games awaiting on the table. Battleship, Clue, Guess Who, Monopoly, Scrabble, you name it.

“We wanted to make different groups and play all of these, then see which team is the best” Robin explains. “Steve and me will be team one” she says as she writes that in the whiteboard. They really went all out, since we could all be pretty competitive.

“Group two!” Jonathan exclaims quickly grabbing Nancy’s hand.

“Wait… no, definitely not” You start complaining after realizing that would mean you’re stuck with Eddie.

 “No way! I’m not teaming up with her, she’ll make us lose at everything” he complains as well.

“I will? I think the actual loser here it’s you”

“Oh, am I now-?” The metal-head starts responding when Steve steps in, cutting him off.

“Okay! Stop yelling, we’re not even playing yet! The teams have been chosen, try and be faster next time”

“We’ll start with Guess Who” Robin announces.

As the game progressed, the bickering continued.

"Does your person have brown hair?" Eddie asks Nancy and Jonathan, who nod.

You reach over to flip down the characters with blond or red hair "See, this is why we should’ve picked someone with a hat, it's less obvious"

Eddie rolled his eyes "Oh, please. Like your guess was any better. We’re losing here!” Eddie complains.

"Only if you keep making terrible guesses" you shoot back.

"Does your person have a hat?" you ask the other team.

"No" Jess replied.

"Still think the hat was a good idea?" Eddie raised an eyebrow at you.

"It was strategic" you huff, flipping down the characters with hats.

After playing most of the board games you had, you were tied with the second group, Steve and Robin had already lost.

“Last but not least, to decide the winner of this evening, I present… battleship” Robin announces once more.

"You sure you can keep up with this game? It requires more than just a pretty face" Eddie asks you.

"Don’t worry, I have enough brains to make up for your lack of them" you respond.

“Quit it, start playing” Steve orders.

"Let's just get this over with" you roll your eyes.

They set up the Battleship boards, each team carefully arranging their ships. Eddie and you hunched over the board, whispering fiercely.

"Put the battleship here" he insist, pointing to the top left corner.

"No, it’s too obvious. Let’s hide it in the middle"

"Fine, but when they hit it right away don’t blame me" he groans.

As the game progressed, your bickering intensified.

"B6" Jonathan called out.

You glance at the board and softly nod your head "Hit"

Eddie leans closer, his voice a teasing whisper, "I told you the corner was better"

"Just focus"

When it was your turn, Eddie called out "G4"

Nancy checks their board, "Miss"

You smirk "Looks like your guess wasn’t so great either"

Eddie rolls his eyes "Just wait"

A few rounds later, it was your turn again.

"E5" Eddie calls out.

"Miss" Nancy announces.

"I told you they wouldn’t put it there" you huff.

"Like you’ve done any better"

"How about C3?" you roll your eyes.

"Fine, C3" Eddie sighs.

"Hit" Jonathan says between his teeth.

"See? I told you" you smirk.

"Don’t get cocky, princess"

The tension built as the game neared its end, each team with only one ship left.

"Last shot, let's go with G3" Eddie says

You nod.

"You sunk our battleship" Jonathan confirms after a long sigh.

“YES!”

“COME ONN” both you and Eddie shout in excitement and before even thinking about it you hug tightly.

Robin and Steve watch the scene with wide eyes and smirks on their faces.

And the second your bodies touch each other you realize what you’re actually doing. The hug only lasts few seconds before you both back away awkwardly.

“See? You actually do make a pretty good team” Robin comments.

“Only because I took the last shot” Eddie says.

“Oh please, if it were up to you we’d still be guessing corners” you reply.

"And if it were up to you, we'd be stuck in the middle forever”

Your friends roll their eyes as the bickering continued. And as you act indifferent, you try not think about how you had to stand on the tip of your toes to wrap your arms around his neck, or how soft his hair had felt touching your skin.

His frizzy and chaotic hair. But so curly and soft.

--

Couple of weeks after that night had passed, you hung out with the guys almost every weekend. You favorite nights were the ones Eddie was busy and couldn’t make it. Like tonight.

“Pass the salt, please” Nancy asks Robin. You all went out to have dinner together. Not all actually, Jonathan was too busy as well, him you did miss.

“It’s like we’re having a girl’s night!” you say excitedly and both girls laugh as well.

“No, you’re not about to count me in as a girl” He complains.

“Oh please, you have better hair than me!” Robin comments and he rolls his eyes.

“I’m just teasing, jeez! Someone has their panties in a twist!” you joke.

“Are you on your period or something?” Nancy joins in sarcastically.

“Alright, not even funny” Steve interrupts. “Let's focus. I think we should keep planning the trip, even though we’re not all here tonight”

“Don’t even mention it. I miss Jonathan so much, he’s been so busy lately. I think he really needs a break” Nancy complains and Robin agrees with her.

“I know, it’s really noticeable when Eddie’s not here either”

“Oh yeah, he’s the one I miss. His irritating voice and loud comments. His annoying essence it’s what’s missing here!” you joke but they don’t find it funny.

“We’ve been through this, you’re gonna have to learn to like each other”

“Sure sure, so… the trip?” you change the topic acting foolish.

“Yeah, I liked the hiking option. We always go to the lake every summer, we should change it up” Nancy votes. You’ve never went to any lake with them since this is the first year you’re joining them. But they had told some stories about this hidden lake they usually go to in summer.

“I think so too, plus we should do something different since we have a new integrant” Steve comments smiling at you. Robin and you also agree to go with that option.

The guys make sure of telling the rest everything you have agreed on that night. You’ve settled on where to go hiking and the cabin that would be waiting for you at night.

A few weeks later you're all set to go.

The trip to get there was...

Steve and Jonathan took turns driving. "You must be a really shitty driver if no one here trusts you behind the wheel" you notice and tell Eddie.

"I'm not a bad driver, princess. Maybe we could go for a drive sometime and you could judge for yourself! We'll call it a date" Eddie teases you the way he knows will shut you up, it always worked. As soon as he started flirting with you, it was like you got shy all of the sudden. Replying with some nonsense that would make Eddie laugh harder because he knew he had won.

"I'd rather get eaten by a shark" you respond ignoring the nervousness that ran through your body.

"Alright, we still have a few hours ahead of us, and I'm not gonna make them with you two bickering the whole way there. So calm down" Steve —or actually, mom Steve— told you off.

Once you got to the cabin, you parked the car, settled everything down, ate something and got ready for today's hiking exercise.

Eddie was never a big fan of sports, so he knew that after an hour or so of hiking —no matter how slow they were walking or how much water he was drinking— he would just start to stay a little behind. Not a lot, but definitely the last on the row.

Also, he started to get bored. Eddie was chatting with Jonathan, but he started to take pictures of every little plant or flower he saw, and the higher you got, the more pictures of the view he wanted to take.

So Eddie started to walk in silence, taking notice of other little things, like the fact that you and Steve look pretty close and pretty giggly with each other since you started hiking. But not only that, obviously, it's not like he's jealous or anything. For him to be jealous he would have to like you in the first place, and there was no way Eddie wants you.

You're the obvious person to like; everyone in Hawkins is already smitten with you. Every guy has a crush on you because you're undeniably beautiful. He knew from the first moment he saw you that you'd never go for a guy like him. So, to keep himself from showing any sign that he wanted you, he did the opposite —he started to hate you.

So he is definitely not jealous. He was only noticing that like he noticed the colourful rocks that he walked by, or the clouds in the sky, or the way those shorts hug your body so nicely.

But he keeps hearing your laughter every ten seconds. Was Steve really being that funny, or you were acting all giggly for him? Did you like Steve? It certainly seems like you do.

You, however, were having so much fun. In the middle of a funny story Steve was telling you about some guy who tried to flirt with Robin at work and the look on her face not knowing how to tell him she didn’t like him —or well, any men for that matter.

The forest path was rugged, but you welcomed the challenge at first, feeling the cool morning air on your skin. However, after a while, your legs began to protest, your breath came in shorter gasps. It was hard to keep up with Steve. Swimmer and football player Steve. So you had to slow down a little, now walking alongside Eddie.

“What’s the matter, princess? Can’t keep up?” he teases with a mocking tone.

“You literally got behind sooner than me” you answer, shaking your head. “If anyone’s slow here, it’s you”

“But it looks like we're both walking together now, so who's really winning?” Eddie chuckles, unfazed by your sharp reply as his eyes twinkle with amusement.

You decide to ignore him. How foolish of you to think that he would accept that silence.

“So what’s the deal between you and Steve? You looked pretty cozy back there. You’re not very subtle, you know”

“There’s no deal with Steve, we were just talking” you roll your eyes, irritation flaring up.

"Right, just talking" he says, his tone dripping with scepticism. "You’re so obvious, it's almost painful to watch"

“Why don’t you stop jumping to conclusions and mind your own business” 

“Ohh, is the princess mad at me now? I’m so scared!” he grins, clearly pleased with himself.

“You’re impossible” you say almost to yourself.

You kept walking for a few more hours, taking occasional breaks to catch your breath and sip some water. The trail seemed endless, but the beauty of the forest made it worth the effort.

As you trudged along, you noticed the sky darkening. Grey clouds, rolling in with alarming speed. The wind picked up, rustling the leaves more aggressively.

A man in uniform hurrying down the trail called you out. "Hey, you guys need to find shelter! A big storm is coming in fast. There's no way you'll make it back down in time"

Panic start to appear in all of your eyes.

“Wait? Seriously?” Nancy asks.

“Yes! There’s a motel that’s a few minutes away, to your left” the guy informs you. “I don’t know how much room they have left, cause I’ve been sending some people there already. But you should go now”

Finally after quickening your pace, you spot the outline of a motel nestled among the trees. You hurry towards it. As you approach, you see the motel was old but resistant.

You reach the door and push it open, stumbling inside just as the storm unleashed its full fury. Inside, it was dim and musty, but at least it was dry.

“Hello, uh, we need room for six, please” Nancy is the first one to get to the register and talk to the old woman who was reading a newspaper as if she hadn’t heard you coming in.

“$70 the night” she answers without even looking up at you.

“Uhh… okay, we’ll take it” Nancy says and as you all reach for you wallets, the woman gives you three keys.

“There’s only three rooms left, two with queen beds and one with two separate single beds” she speaks again, as slowly as she can apparently.

“SEPARATE BED” Robin shouts fast.

“ME TOO” Steve is quickly to join her on calling dibs for that room. Not wanting to share a bed.

“Wait! No!” you complain. “Why would you get it just cause you screamed?”

“We called dibs, sorry sweetie” Robin explains.

“But that’s not fair, we should have discussed it!” Eddie joins in.

“Too late” Steve says handing the money to the woman and taking the key of their room.

“Come on guys, maybe they have a couch” Jonathan tries to make you feel better as he also pays and picks a key to their room.

“Are you actually making us share a bed?!” you ask them offended.

“Maybe it’ll help you become friends!” Robin tells you.

After paying and grabbing that stupid key, you all go to your rooms. As you walk in you notice that, in fact, there is no couch.

“Fuck” Eddie complains once again. “I’ll take the floor, let’s just find some blankets that I can sleep on”

And you turn that room upside down trying to find some. But the only blanket in the room is the –only– one on the bed.

“There’s nothing here!” you sit on the bed admitting defeat. “We’re both gonna have to sleep on the bed. I’m gonna freeze without a blanket and you can’t sleep on the bare floor, you’d freeze too”

“If you wanted to sleep with me, you could’ve just said so” Eddie jokes.

“Not now, Munson! Really not in the mood!”

After each getting ready for bed, you start building a wall of pillows in the middle. Separating his part of the bed from yours.

“I bet you wouldn’t make Steve have a wall of pillows” he mumbles, but you’re able to hear him nonetheless.

“Did you not listen when I said not now?!”

“See, that’s the problem with you. You think you can just walk in here acting like you own the fucking place. Newsflash, princess, not everyone is going to fall at your feet following your little orders!” Eddie gets mad for real this time, but so are you.

“I’m so sorry for trying to make this less uncomfortable! Actually, if you want I’ll even cuddle you while we sleep!”

“Shut up” Eddie rolls his eyes.

“No really, we should even make out before sleeping while we’re at it! Maybe that’ll prove to you that I don’t fucking like Steve”

“Yeah, you wish” Eddie comments.

“Actually, I think you wish. Giving that you’re always trying to flirt with me when we argue and giving how jealous you seem to be about Steve” you notice.

“I’m not fucking jealous. And you’re the one suggesting to fucking make out!”

“See, I think you do want to. You’re just too much of a pussy to even admit it” you whisper close to his face.

“Oh my God, princess!” Eddie starts laughing arrogantly. “You wouldn’t even be able to handle me”

“Oh yeah, you’re right! I could not handle your two centimetres because I would be too busy laughing my ass off at your angry half inch” you respond at his face.

But he doesn’t say anything back. He just looks at you. His jaw clenching, eyes darkening, breath heaving.

Before you can react, he closes the distance in one swift, aggressive movement. Gripping your arms tightly, he kissed you fiercely and angrily, his lips bruising against yours, as if trying to channel all the pent-up emotions into that kiss.

To say that you're shocked would be an understatement. But you did kiss him back. How could you not? With all the ardor and sentiment that he was putting into that kiss?

That fucking kiss.

After he felt your lips moving along with his in a dance, he let all the anger go. The kiss became passionate and intense instead of angry. Like you were finally letting go. Stopped overthinking and finally giving in.

You didn't need to talk. You didn't want to. Instead, you put one hand on his haw and the other on his hair, feeling it in between your fingers, bringing him even closer.

He sighs, holding a grunt as he feels you play with his hair. His hands move lower to your hips, feeling the upper part of your body in the process.

A fight for dominance is held up between you two. He bites your lip harshly, and you let out a little gasp that allows him to win. He's playing dirty. You're not surprised.

He starts to push you down slowly, so you're lying on the bed with him on top of you.

Your hands travel lower as well as you feel his back. You wonder if he has any tattoos there as well.

He dares to leave your lips alone as he lowers his kisses to your jaw and then your neck. He kisses and bites and licks all over your neck. You can bet that he is leaving marks as purple as a grape.

It turns you both on even more.

Eddie feels like he's flying. He's even touching the clouds. Marking you all up is only an image that haunts him in his fantasies. Like when he can't sleep, or is in the shower, or after fighting with you all evening and you're looking so beautiful and you're being such a brat. That's when he imagines leaving you all bruised out. But he's actually doing it right now, and he's going feral.

You start to feel like you're too dressed. His hands go under your shirt, and he starts to pull it up. You pull your arms up as well so he can take it off. His kisses keep traveling lower on your body. Your chest, your shoulders, the top of your breasts. He stops there. Making out with one of your nipples over the lace of your bra while pinching the other. You start moaning, your hips move searching friction on your core, and he lowers his hips so you can start dry humping him.

You feel his smirk against your sensitive skin as well as his hard on against your centre. Mocking your desperation. You're not surprised.

He moves up, meeting face to face once again. "So desperate for me, aren't you princess?" he whispers so closely to you face you can feel his lips moving and his evil smile too.

He watches you breath hard and your legs trying to close searching for that friction in between once more.

"Ask me nicely and I'll take care of you" he proposes and you roll your eyes.

You can't. You won't.

"Beg for it, princess" he tries again. "Let me hear you"

You shake your head. You're playing difficult, but Eddie likes a challenge.

"No? You're not gonna beg for me? Alright princess, you know what I'm gonna do?" he pauses to think. "I'm gonna make you cum so fast on my tongue you'll be embarrassed, and then you'll know how much of a desperate slut you can be for me"

You want to laugh and tell him off, but you are so intrigued by his confidence at the same time. You settle for a defiant look thrown at him, he catches it and smirks again. Something tells you you'll be seeing that smirk quite a lot tonight.

He unhooks your bra and throws it somewhere in the room, he squeezes your tits and caresses your nipples making a mental note to keep playing with them later. His hands travel down to your pants which are the next item being thrown away inside the room.

He takes a second to admire the view of you only on those white panties and he feels his cock jump. He proceeds to take your underwear off too, but this item is put inside his back pocket.

He puts your legs over his shoulders and lowers to be closer to your pussy. He bites his lip admiring how fucking pretty and perfect it looks. He wastes no more time and dives in.

He licks it and kisses it and sucks on it drunk on your taste. He fucking makes out with your clit and has you meowing and arching back like a damn cat.

His hands grab your thighs so hard he's probably leaving marks there too. He sighs and hums and laughs against your pussy hearing your pretty moans.

He looks up at you as you look down at him and you both feel like you could just cum at the sight alone. Your cheeks blushed, eyes watery, hair a mess, lips swollen and little moans are still coming out of them. He looks up at you while still sucking on your clit so fucking good. His eyes are covered by his bangs so you reach to move them to the side. His puppy eyes look straight at you, his hair is also a mess, and his hands are gripping you with so much force his skin as well as yours becomes whiter. And his rings feel cold and addictive against you.

You try to fight your orgasm but looking at him makes it impossible. It hits all throughout your body so good that you cry out his name as you pull on his hair.

As you catch your breath, he sits up and washes all your wetness off his face with the back of his hand, all that with a big smirk on so proud of himself.

"Still doubting me?"

You grunt, annoyed, and bring him closer. You pull his shirt over his head and take a second to admire his bare chest and arms covered in tattoos. You unbutton and unzip his pants. He's just watching you act so desperate for him to undress, enjoying every second of it like the cocky motherfucker he can be.

"Need help?" he whispers on your ear, and you nod with a pout. He stands up and takes his pants of slowly.

"These too?" he asks, signalling his boxers. You nod as you feel even hotter paying attention to the big tent he has on them.

He puts them down too, standing up proudly as you look at his big cock. "Half inch you said?" he teases you, and you look up at him as if telling him to shut the fuck up.

You sit up facing his dick. You grab it gently as you keep looking at it. How is it so... pretty? How the fuck does Eddie manages to be pretty everywhere. Even what you thought could not be pretty. He manages to make it look beautiful.

A mischievous thought crosses your mind. And you start leaving some kisses on the tip. Even a lick here and there.

He gasps unexpectedly. You put the tip in your mouth, moving your tongue around it. He lets out a little moan. You look up at him, he's already looking at you. And you proceed to slowly put all of it in your mouth while maintaining eye contact. His tip touches your throat, and you have to fight a gag. You still have a full fist grabbing the rest that didn't fit your mouth. He moans again at your little show. You close your eyes and start moving your head up and down. Eddie moans louder this time, and hands stop your movements.

"As much as I enjoy this, princess, and I really fucking am" he lets you know. "I want to cum once I'm inside of your perfect little pussy, can I?"

You take him out of your mouth with a 'pop' at the end and look at him defiantly once again. "Beg for it" you challenge him feeling proud of yourself.

He laughs. "Are you seriously telling me to beg for it while you're still practically on your knees for me?"

You won't let him win this one, so you lay back again resting on your elbows. "Beg for it"

He takes a big breath in ogling over all of your body on display for him and only him. He'll let you win this one because his dick is throbbing at the sight before him.

His hands travel up your legs and your hips to your waist. "Please, princess" he says once his face is closer to yours.

"Please, let me fuck you so good" he starts humping his dick against your pussy which makes you both gasp.

"Please, please, please" he kisses your cheek to sugar-coat you.

"Eddieee" you move your pelvis up and down against him. "Do it, put it in"

And he wastes no time to do so. Pushing his tip inside and you both gasp. He bites his lip and thrusts to enter you completely.

"Oh, fuck" your head is thrown back and you lay back down. He feels so big and so fucking good in you.

"Mhh, fuck princess" he lowers his body to be chest to chest with you. "You feel so good baby, so tight around me"

You have to bite your tongue to stop you from moaning his name, you can't keep inflating his ego.

"Don't get all quiet now. You're always talking and the one time I wanna hear you..." he teases you.

"Earn it" you manage to get out. It's ironic how your lips are almost bleeding from how hard you're biting on them to stop you from moaning as hard as you want to, but you still tell him to fuck you better.

Eddie knows what you're doing, but he likes playing with you too. So he accepts the challenge.

He gets up on his knees against the bed and takes your legs to pull you closer to him. You instantly wrap them around his hips. He wraps a hand around your throat and he looks like he's about to say something, but instead, he enters you again. A moan escapes from your mouth instantly, and you see his big smirk back.

He starts a hard and fast pace with his thrusts as you hear his sighs against your ear. You can't help the whines and moans that escape you now. Your hands go to his back scratching him, and pulling at his hair, but it only makes him moan harder.

He lowers his head to your breasts once again and keeps kissing them as he fucks you. You arch back again, because you can feel him everywhere. And he feels so so good.

He feels you clench around his dick and he thinks he could just cum right now. So he starts playing with your clit with his fingers.

"Eddiee... 'm so closee" you whine pulling him somehow even closer.

"Yeah? You are?" you nod desperately. "Beg for it" he whispers and smirks right after saying it.

You roll your eyes but it doesn't take much to convince you this time.

"Please, Eddie," he was about to tell you that you can do better, but beat him to it. "Please baby, you feel so good inside of me, so big. Eddie, please"

Eddie has to stop himself from cuming -which he almost does. "Cum for me, baby"

And you do. Your orgasm hits even harder than the first one. You gasp and whine without even thinking about it.

Few seconds after that, Eddie can't take it anymore. He feels you clench even harder while you cum and it becomes too much. So he lets go too while moaning your name against your skin.

You take a few seconds to catch your breaths when you feel Eddie pull out —and after admiring how his cum drips out of your pussy— he gets up, puts on his boxers and goes to the bathroom, only to come back with a wet towel to clean you up. To say he surprised you again was an understatement. Who would have thought he would be so careful?

After you go to the bathroom as well —with wobbly legs Eddie smirks about— and change into some comfy clothes, you both lay down. No wall pillow this time. And are quick to fall asleep after all the exercise you did today.

The next morning wasn’t so sweet. Loud knocking on your bedroom’s door accompanied a loud Robin telling you to get up already.  

Waking up all curled up with him was bound to happen. But if someone would have told you yesterday morning that today you would be waking up with Eddie Munson spooning you, you would have laughed at their face.

But here you are, and to be honest, it had been a while since you slept so peacefully.

You feel him groaning against the skin of your shoulder, holding you tighter.

You slowly opened your eyes to accustom to the light.

“Did you end up killing each other last night?! Answer me!” Robin shouts again from the other side of the door.

“Certainly feels like it” Eddie murmurs and laughs at his own joke.

“We’re awake! Calm down!” you let her know.

“We have to leave so then we can breakfast, so hurry up!” she lets you know.

You get up and start tiding up. Eddie is slower, he sits on the bed barely opening one eye to look at you and smiles. “Good morning, princess”

You look at him and a little smirk escapes from your lips. “Hey” you greet him shyly.

You both start changing to get down and tidy everything down. After you both brush your teeth, you go to pick up your backpack but he stops you to pull you in close to him.

“Good morning” he says again with his face close to yours while he pulls a strand of your hair behind your ear. Then he proceeds to kiss you, sweetly this time. Which warms your heart. You kiss him back playing with his hair once again.

“Hi, Munson” you say sweetly against his lips.

“You look beautiful in the morning” he admits but before you can even react, the knocking on your door is back.

“Okay! Okay! We’re coming!” Eddie stops them. “Jesus”

After getting down, you were waiting for them to explain where you would be having breakfast but as soon as they see you they start looking at you funny.

“What?” Eddie asks being as confused as you but they all start laughing.

“What is going on?” you ask again.

“Are we just gonna pretend like nothing happened?” Jonathan asks now.

“Yeah, were you gonna act like you still hate each other today?” Steve teases.

And you understand all the laughter. You and Eddie look at each other surprised and apparently this is also very funny because they start laughing again.

“Oh fuuuck” Jonathan starts mocking the way Eddie sounded last night also acting like moaning your name.

“Oh Eddie, so close!” Steve joins him acting like you.

Your face is as red as a tomato right now and you feel like you could just die, it would be better than taking whatever this is. You hide your face in Eddie’s shoulder after he just rolls his eyes fighting another smirk.

He laughs at you, put stills hugs you.

“You wanted us to like each other…” He defends you two.

“Yeah, apparently you took that very literal” Robin teases after catching her breath.

[alvojake]

PARK SUNGHOON HARD THOUGHT

「warnings」 : 18+ MINORS DNI!!

「notes」 : this is dedicated to @pockettwinzz. I hope that you enjoy this small Hoon hard thought that conspired from your mental crisis. I may or may not have gotten a tad carried away.... whoops.

alright, so imagine this..... you and sunghoon are in the middle of a heated make-out session in your shared bedroom, and clothes are sprawled all around the room haphazardly. neither of you cares, though, too worried about the feeling of each other warm skin against the other. sunghoon had his hands underneath your underwear, squeezing the flesh of your ass, eliciting a small moan from your lips, giving him the chance to slip his tongue inside yours. you so easily became lost in his taste that your mind was starting to get foggy. the only thoughts occupying it were your boyfriend and how good he felt against you.

sunghoon chuckled against your open mouth as you rocked your hips against his, seeking any kind of friction you could. he let you seek out your pleasure for a few moments, relishing in the sound of your soft whimpers. then his grip on your back end tightened, halting your movements and causing you to pout.

"are you that desperate already, princess?" he leaned forward, leaving a trail of kisses down your jaw until he reached your ear. "I haven't even done anything yet."

"hoon..." you whined again, trying your best to fight against his tight hold, but it was pointless; he was far too strong.

"you gotta use your words, baby; what do you want?" he asked as his lips left, searing kisses down the side of your neck, causing your eyes to flutter at the sensation. when you didn't answer him, he pulled away to take in your already fuck-out expression, a smirk tugging on the corner of his lips.

realizing that he had stopped, you allowed your eyes to open, meeting his hooded gaze. the intensity of his gaze was enough to leave goosebumps all over your skin and heat pooling in the pit of your stomach. you once again tried to move against his hold, but just like all of your previous attempts, it ended in failure.

the smirk then fell from sunghoon's lips, and his grip got unbelievably tighter. it was tight enough that you were sure that bruises in the shape of his fingers would be embedded in your skin the next day, but the pain only made your desperation grow.

"I said use your words, princess; only good girls get what they want, right?" he growled, his upper lip pulling back just far enough to reveal his pointed canines that you love so much.

you let out a pathetic cry when his hand came down, landing a harsh smack on your ass cheek. tears started to pool on your waterline as you looked at your boyfriend with a pleading expression, an expression that sunghoon would kill to see every day. then the words started to tumble from your lips.

"hoonie, please just fuck me. I'll be good, just fuck me, I want your cock so bad." the pleas fell from your lips like a testimony, and sunghoon couldn't help but smirk once more, satisfied with your answer.

"then don't let me stop you. take whatever it is you want, babydoll." his tone was teasing as he leaned back slightly, taking in your perplexed expression.

then within seconds, your needy eyes had come back, and you were scooting down your boyfriend's legs, far enough to pull his boxers down, allowing his hard cock to spring free. your mouth started to water at the sight of the angry red tip, watching the little beads of precum dribbling down the side before getting caught on the vines.

however, your need to have your pussy filled rather than your mouth was much much stronger. so you stood on your knees before moving your underwear to the side, far too gone to bother taking them off. sunghoon watched as you slowly sank yourself down onto his dick until he was fully trapped inside of your heat, biting the inside of this cheek to keep from groaning at how tightly you were squeezing him.

"fuck hoonie...." you whined out, hands gripping his biceps to try and stabilize yourself.

sunghoon then sat up straighter, causing him to push even further into you, which in turn caused a loud moan to fall from your parted lips. his hands then found your hips as you started to rock yourself against him, eyes rolling back at the feeling of his cock rubbing your velvet walls just right. so much so that your ability to think straight was completely thrown out the window, carried away by the wind.

"oh, is my poor baby already fucked stupid?" he chuckled as he latched his lips onto your collarbone, sucking deep purple marks along your skin, listening to all of your little noises. "don't worry, princess, I'll take care of you."

then within a blink of an eye, he had your back pressed against the mattress, hand pinned above your head as he pounded into your needy hole without an ounce of mercy. not stopping until he was completely drained dry and you were on the verge of passing out, stars dancing across your vision when your nth orgasm hit just as sunghoon finished.

@alvojake | Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or repost any of my work

𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖗 : ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɴᴏ ᴡᴀʏ ᴀ ᴛʀᴜᴇ ʀᴇᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴘᴜʀᴇʟʏ ꜰɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴛᴀᴋᴇɴ ꜱᴇʀɪᴏᴜꜱʟʏ.

[box-of-roses]

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾Dolled Up‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

Characters: Daichi, Oikawa, Kita, Daisho, Kuroo, Bokuto, Ushijima

Warnings: fem! Dressed reader for Oikawa

Synopsis: How the captains of Haikyuu would react to you dressed up cheering for him

a/n: This literally came in my head because of how I dressed up for the Haikyuu movie today, so I hope you got a laugh out of it

Daichi

Blushy McGee over here

But also, like so proud??? Like Hell yeah that’s my partner!

He only notices you after the match ends, the moment he sees you his face turns red so quick. Suga immediately takes the chance to make fun of him as you wave and do a small spin showing off your outfit. It’s his missing jersey, not missing anymore, black shorts, and shoes that he can’t see yet that have beads that spell his name on them. Of course, the piece de resistance. His number on your face.

 He feels frozen in place. Gods, you were so cute. He’s almost glad that he didn’t see you earlier. But there’s also the part of him that wishes he had seen you earlier. He thinks he might’ve played harder. You rushing down to give him a hug makes it all the better. “Daichi!” You say happily and wrap your arms around his middle. He happily wraps his own around you as well. 

The minute the two of you are alone he’s hiding his face in the crook of your neck 

You definitely tease him about his red face

Asks if you’re planning on doing this next game and he can’t help but get a little excited when you say yes

Oikawa

The one who acts like it doesn’t affect him, but everyone knows better

Sees you, has to do a double take, and he almost misses his serve

It’s his first serve of the game and Oikawa looks around to find you. What he doesn’t expect to find is you dressed to the nines. He’s not entirely sure where you got it (Iwaizumi because he wanted to see the reaction and laugh at Oikawa about it) but there you are in one of his jerseys, his extra practice jacket, a blue miniskirt, a sign that says ‘My Boyfriend is the Setter (The best one obviously), bracelets he can’t quite makes out from here, and his number on your cheek. 

He hears the whistle blow and thinks ‘Fuck’ as he tries to prepare for his serve. Iwaizumi caught the whole thing and hopes someone got it on video (Someone did). He serves and it barely goes over the net and he takes a deep breath. 

Once Iwaizumi gets the video it’s kept in safe keeping on multiple USBs 

Oikawa refuses to admit that it did anything to him

Gives you his spare jersey for every game now though

Kita

Probably one of the few that actually doesn’t have much of a reaction (on the outside)

Since he doesn’t play much in games when he sees you, he just gives you a smile

Atsumu, Osamu, and Suna try and tease him about it but he’s just sitting there like ‘And?’

After the match is over you run over to Kita. Number on cheek, Pom Poms in hand, and of course, the jersey you had previously asked to borrow on your person. “You did so good!” Your bracelets jingle as you move your hands excitedly. Kita’s name is on one surrounded by hearts and on the back is the number one. You pull out another bracelet from your bag and hand it to him. It has your name on it. “You don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to,” you say sheepishly. 

Suna is standing off to the side with his phone out recording the whole thing. And he’s glad he did otherwise he might’ve missed the blush on his captain’s cheeks as he took the bracelet and put it on. “Thank you, Y/N.” 

Kita later asks Suna to send him the video and the resulting photos he also took

The photos are now his lock screen and home screen*

Daisho

Also, one to have to do a double take

Asks to take a photo for his lockscreen which gets you blushing (perfect for his lockscreen)

He’s also one of the lucky few who sees you after the game. He also saw the sign you were holding. ‘My boyfriend is better than your’s, he’s a captain’ with printed out candids of him playing volleyball and one of you two in a small heart in the corner. 

Definitely one to tease you 

“Oh? Had to stake your claim on me?”

Kuroo

One of the unfortunate few to see you during the game

Completely misses one of his blocks and the ball hits him in the face

Kuroo wishes he had seen you a few minutes later. After they had won the set. Or better yet after Nekoma had won the whole game. Instead, he’s unlucky and catches you when he’s mid-block, your voice rang out in support, and he got distracted. Seeing you in a stark white jersey with his number, his name. He also suspects that’s where his extra set of warm up pants went as he can spot just a little bit of red peeking out. Once he gets hit in the face with the ball he’s reminded that he is in fact playing volleyball right now. 

Kenma finds the video online and plays it when he feels bad

You tell him you found it charming that you still have that effect on him, and he melts

He asks you to wear it more often

Bokuto

Akaashi is actually the one to notice you first

Bokuto is the last to see you and only does when he gets really sad about being blocked so much

Akaashi points you out to cheer him up

As you see Bokuto get upset by how many spikes he’s missed you move closer to the bar in the stadium. Akaashi noticed you much earlier and not even he is able to cheer Bokuto up. Once he points you out though you raise your poster higher and scream his name. “You’ve got this Ko!” You wave your sign with a smile. 

‘My Boyfriend is the best ace and captain ever!’ is what it says with a few photos of his best shots you had found online. Once he sees you, he immediately lights up. “You’re right! I am the best!” He’s back to his usual self with a ‘Hey, Hey, Hey’ 

Once he gets a closer look at your outfit at home, he’s smothering your face with kisses

He tells you how helpful you were in cheering him up

Akaashi messages you later asking you to ‘Please do this at all of our games.’ 

Ushijima

Another unbothered on the outside king

He may not fully get why you did it until you tell him he’s happy about it

He sees you after a service ace, he spots you in the stands. Your loud cheer makes him smile softly before he gets serious again. You’re zipped up in his practice jacket and a pair of your own Shiratorizawa sweatpants and although you don’t have a sign everyone knows he’s your boyfriend. Your cheering makes him happy, but he plays his best no matter if you’re watching or not. 

Asks Tendo to help him change his wallpaper so it’s the two of you

Tendo does him one better and takes a live photo of you giggling at something as the lockscreen and the two of you as his homescreen

Ushi tells you that you look nice

When you ask if it’s something he wants you to do for all of his games he just replies “I just need you there”

I hope you guys liked it; it was a very spur of the moment thing so sorry if it's not good!!! My requests are open although I unfortunately go through them at a snail's pace

masterlist

rules

[leikeliscomet]

(Reposting from twitter)

My POV as a Black fan that thinks Dot and Bubble's racism commentary is trash

Rewatched Dot and Bubble and I'm gonna break down from my POV as a Black fan why this episode didn't work for me & why it's an awful racism commentary. Long arse post incoming:

The whole "You should've noticed the cast was all white except for fifteen ha your bias is showing" doesn't work for a show that's been predominantly white for 60+ years. D&B casting has been the default for most of the show so its not abnormal enough to be a racial litmus test. An example is the Matt Smith era The only reoccurring character of colour in s5 (2+ appearances) is Liz 10. Artie n Angie in s7. 0 in s6. RTD's own era isn't fully safe either. For many eps Martha or Mickey are the *only* Black characters. Most POC are side characters or extras.

White fans should be aware of the predominantly white casting of the show but this late in the game feels cheap. Most of the show has gone through 100% white episodes including fan faves and it was never an issue back then bc it was beneficial. This is so hollow. Representing racists as cartoon caricatures SEVERLY underestimates the danger of white supremacy irl. White supremacy is system designed and constructed and rebranded over centuries. It is not accidental. People aren't racist bc they don't know they're racist because they *do* They know the system that oppresses POC, Black people especially, benefits them socially and financially and that is why they participate. Its not stupidity it's intention. That should've been the Finetime core not Lindy goofing around bc the arrows are gone or some shit.

Human Nature showed us racist young people that exercised this power bc they knew this. They may be children but they are still dangerous bc of their views. Martha knew this. The silly tech obsessed gen z angle erases this danger and that of actual gen z white supremacy

Instead of the camp goofy tone we could've gotten a serious focused episode. The slugs and millenial/gen z social media silly distracts from what could've been the main theme of colonisation instead of saving it for 10 mins of exposition at the end & scattering microaggressions. Saving Fifteen's racism scene for a goofy episode was a horrid idea. Spending 30 mins on representing racism as silliness then giving a dramatic dangerous score is the definition of tonal whiplash. Representing his oppressor as a blonde bimbo again does not take this seriously. Fifteen went to 1960s BRITAIN & got through it unscathed. Finetime is a fictional futuristic land but the racism of 1960s Britain was real. If anytime was right it could've been Devil's Chord. Distancing yourself from a panto villain is easy but addressing your history is hard.

The scene itself is incredibly performed so I'll give Ncuti his flowers but what he used this skill for could've been so much more. Having his FIRST SCENE begging to save a racist is disgusting. It isn't Black people's responsibility to show compassion to people that want us dead. Yes the Doctor helps the baddies bc they care. But they're aren't ignorant to prejudice. The liberal anti racism of who is so jarring and why I still think Thin Ice is performative. When white people are angry at injustice it's radical. When it's Black people we're aggressive.

Respectability politics is a tool of white supremacy. That if one pleads and is nice enough they can earn liberation. What would white fans think of Fifteen if he DIDN'T beg Lindy? If your allyship with Black people depends on showing kindness to racists you are NOT an ally.

Next up is Ricky. It was established ALL Finetime citizens have white supremacist views yet Ricky September stans refuse to see him in any negative light. Just like Joan Redfern white dw fans refuse to see racism if a character is likeable. If nice guy Ricky's a racist, then anyone no matter the niceness can be racist too and that's a pill white fans aren't ready to swallow. If racism is systemic and not about individual character, then what's keeping them safe? What happens when YOU are under the microscope.

THIS is why we NEED Black writers in Doctor Who. The nuances, depth and complexity of the Black experience can only be told at it's best by Black creatives and not guessed, assumed or spoken over by white fans and white writers. It's okay to put ego aside and say you don't get it.

"Im white but I loved the Doctor's reaction" "I'm white and i thought the racism commentary was great" "I'm white but i-" Yet again, we have to sit through another round of white and non Black fans of colour dictating Black representation for us. I'm so fucking tired man. AGAIN IM YELLING FROM MY HILLTOP TO WATCH SHOWS BY BLACK WRITERS. Almost EVERY single theme in Dot and Bubble and frankly most of the show has been done WAY better in other media. RTD is not the authority on Black stories. We are. Always have been and always will.

Tl;dr Dot and Bubble is an unserious and tacky racism commentary. It's core message is drowned by more RTD Who camp. Don't tell me this episode was good at representating my own experience. It wasn't. S15 having Black writers isn't a need it's a must. Goodbye.

[lani-heart]

|| series masterlist || next // previously ||

genre(s) -> angst, fluff, smut, non-idol, hybrid au, poly au paring(s) -> ( eventually ) ATEEZ x reader warning(s) -> mentions of violence, mention of putting down / death, etc. words -> 2.8K

abstract -> finally we have a home...

y/n's perspective

My hands have been tied with helping San. His memories are still scrambled but better… he’s starting to remember his past, which upsets him. He still hasn’t tried to get to know Wooyoung or Yeosang. Hongjoong and Seonghwa tried not to confuse him by getting too close yet. 

However, another problem is the rivalry that Seonghwa and Yeosang found themselves in. 

“Yeosang, please just learn to get along with him?” I begged as he helped me with my hair. Today Wonyoung was forcing me out to a business party. So I had to leave… I didn’t want to but I did. And now all of my hybrids have forced me to take one of them to protect me. 

As much as I wanted to spend more time with San, he couldn’t come, and neither could Wooyoung, and Hongjoong either. My only option was Seonghwa or Yeosang. I also couldn’t leave San alone… so I chose Seonghwa. Besides, the tiger hybrid looked happy and excited. 

“Why him?” he asked, clearly annoyed and I sighed. “I need you to take care of San, please,” I asked his eyes softened, and he nodded. 

“I just want you to be okay,” he confessed and I smiled. “I will, but I'm worried about leaving you all alone,” I said and he shook his head. “I’ll take care of the overgrown cat” he confirmed and I was happy he agreed. 

“And if anything goes wrong–” “It won't stop worrying, he’s been getting better. He’s starting to remember Wooyoung. He also follows his instinct, he’ll get his memories back,” he said and I smiled. “Hey, don’t cry now. Wonyoung will get mad if you fix your makeup and make her wait even more” he said and I nodded. 

“Yeosang?” I said and he looked at me through the mirror. He was currently doing finishing touch-ups on my hair. “I love you all so much,” I said and he smiled softly. 

“I love you more than you’ll ever believe, angel,” he said and offered his hand as he led me outside my room. “That tiger better have done what I told him” Yeosang muttered and I chuckled. “Give him a break, he seems to like the life of socialites,” I said and he rolled his eyes. “What’s there to like? The alcohol, drugs, views, likes?” He listened and I smiled. 

“The glamor” I answered and he chuckled. “It's not worth it,” he said and I nodded. “But let his obliviousness enjoy it. He didn’t live through it, so let him be happy” I said and he sighed but understood. For some reason the two have stated their rivalry… but I thought it was sweet – well sometimes. 

“I’m ready!” I heard as I saw Seonghwa. He was in the suit that I got him, his hair gelled up and… oh? I didn’t notice it at first. I never got him a collar? I swear that I…

I did buy them… but I was too scared to give it to them. 

“Angel? Are you okay?” Yeosang asked and I nodded. “Can you do me a favor? There's a box under my bed, grab the black velveted one” I said and he nodded as he went to my room. 

“Is there something wrong?” Seonghwa asked and I shook my head. “When hybrids go out they need collars, it's… the rules” I said and his eyes showed disappointment. “Oh… so–” “I actually bought your collars a while ago. When… you guys ended up accepting me as your owner, I knew I needed to get you two one but I didn’t know if it would make you guys feel angry– but you don't have to wear a collar here if you don’t want to its just so they don't–” “You’re rambling” Seonghwa said softly and with a smile and I chuckled. 

“Oh” I let out and he laughed. “I always wanted a collar…” he confessed and I felt my eyes widen. I smiled, “I’m glad then,” I said and I soon saw Yeosnag again. He handed the box to Seonghwa, already knowing what it was. It was the same brand as his and San and Wooyoung. I would have to give Hongjoong’s collar soon.

The rules mandate that if they found a hybrid without a collar they’d take them to an adoption center immediately. Some areas allow non-collared hybrids just because of how expensive hybrid collars are. Luckily the hospital was one so I didn’t get Hongjoong in trouble and besides Jeno or Johnny would’ve stepped in. However, this was different… This was a socialite party. 

San’s collar was a pretty black jeweled one, whilst Wooyoung was beige, and Yeosang’s white. All of them are jeweled, all the same from the same designer. 

He opened it to reveal his… it was a silver chrome color and his smile seemed uncontrollable and it looked like he wanted a hug. I opened my arms and he lifted me up slightly by my waist. “Hey! You’re gonna wrinkle her dress and ruin her hair!” Yeosang scolded us and made us laugh. 

“How long did it take for you to get a collar?” Seonghwa asked Yeosnag and he shrugged. “I ordered one for him the day I got him officially. I knew he envied San’s and Wooyoung’s since he also held meaning for collars. Though you don’t need to have it on the entire time, you can take it off anytime at home just while we’re there you need to keep–" "You're rambling again” he said and I chuckled. 

“I wanna keep it on, but if it gets overwhelming i'll take it off” he said the same thing as San and Wooyoung. They never take it off, neither does Yeosang. However, he had a different meaning to always keep it on, sure he feels comfort on having it but the scar of his last collar showed if he didn’t keep it on. 

“Don’t get lost in your thoughts now” Yeosang said and I chuckled. 

“Yeah, we have a party to go to…” 

seonghwa’s perspective

I didn’t expect to see so many people laughing and drinking in fancy clothes and jewelry. It was nothing like that run-down and dirty circus… it was the socialites. The consumers who bought the expensive tickets to have us do special tricks for them.

Even y/n seemed like a different person here… she socialized and looked like a natural while I stood beside her clearly overwhelmed. With hybrids looking at me in pity… like I was new, and I was. They, however, looked miserable.

“I would’ve thought you’d bring Yeosang” I heard and I saw a woman dressed in a black dress with jewelry. She glared at y/n… who was she? How’d she know the Doberman?

y/n didn’t respond to her instead drank her cocktail and the woman scoffed. “You have so many pretty hybrids, making a collection are we?” she said and I felt uncomfortable. Hongjoong was right, they do look at us like objects…

“I did my research, you know. You were right about your little panther, he was an illegal hybrid ring fighter. That’s quite dangerous for someone like you, aren’t you scared he’d hurt you” she taunted, making my jaw tighten… I wanted to tell her off but for y/n’s sake I couldn't. I may not get along the best with them but for her to talk about them like that pissed me off… She knew nothing about us. 

“And where’d you find this pretty tiger?” she said and y/n scoffed while glaring at the girl. “You never give up do you?” she said and she giggled. “I can say the same thing about you, and how you took Sangie away from me” she pouted… Sangie? Was she talking about Yeosang? 

“You’re lucky I didn’t get you in jail” y/n said and she giggled while glaring. “Well lovely journalist, we did negotiate. You can have the doberman, I don’t care. In fact I'm thinking of adopting another hybrid” she pondered and I didn’t want to make my stance known. 

I was a hybrid… I was y/n’s accessory tonight. I couldn’t cause any trouble. 

“Ooh, by the way that lawyer of yours was cute! Hendery–” y/n son grabbed my wrist and dragged me away. I could hear her laughing from behind me as I was dragged off. 

She looked annoyed and… hurt? “I understand why Yeosang wanted to join you now,” I said and she shook her head. “Sorry, is your wrist–” “I'm okay. It didn’t hurt, are you okay?” I asked and she smiled a tired smile. 

“Please don’t tell Yeosang about her” she pleaded and I was confused. “She’s his old owner right? The one who… sold him?” I asked and she nodded. 

“Never mention her in front of him,” she warned and I nodded. She didn’t seem like it… but she was a witch in disguise. “This is annoying isn’t it?” she said and she laughed it off but before I could respond. 

“Don’t tell me you were going to run off without saying hello now?” I heard and I saw a man. “Jungwoo!” she said as she hugged him. He looked like a model from Yeosang’s weekly magazines. 

“It’s been a while. I also heard you’ve been busy this year” Jungwoo said and she chuckled… 

“Getting three aggressive hybrids, a popular mistreated hybrid, and Wooyoung. Not to mention created a mortal enemy, been undercover twice, and started a book?” he said and I felt my ears flatten a bit. All of the hybrids have decided to stray away from the topic of writing… she was clearly upset with her draft being ripped by Hongjoong…

“Ah yeah…” she said sadly and his eyebrows furrowed now looking worried. “Hey, are you okay?” he asked and she nodded. “I need to rewrite a whole new book, Jungwoo,” she pouted and he sighed. “If anyone can do it, it's you. You’re the best writer I know” he said and she smiled. “I’m the only writer you know” I said and he laughed it off and shrugged. He soon looked at me curiously… What did he want?

“Are you not gonna introduce me to you hybrid?” he asked and I straightened my posture now that the attention was on me… “Ah! This is Seonghwa, he was a part of the Kim Family Circus. Seonghwa, this is Jungwoo, an old friend.” she said in which he offered his hand, and shook each other's hands. “Are you gonna leave so soon?” he asked and I looked at her as she smiled softly at the man and nodded. “As long as you want to go to Seonghwa?” she asked and I smiled. 

I was here because I wanted to… I regret it already but I need to protect her.

By the end of the party, y/n chatted with many people besides the model. She really was a socialite… a completely different person than the hermit writer from the apartment.

“Let's go home, Seonghwa,” she said with a drunk smile. I hated this party. Everyone kept staring at her… men looking her up and down hybrid owners looking at me as if I’d join their collection… hybrids looking at me with pity.

“Seonghwa?” she said and I looked at her waiting for her to continue speaking. Instead, she smiled and hugged me. I could tell she was a little drunk a few cocktails ago but she was fine, and I was by her side protecting her. 

I took off my trench coat and put it around her. I also started carrying on my back on our way back home… home. I smiled thinking about it. I finally had a place like that. 

“I never want any of you to hate me,” she muttered and I froze for a minute… What was she saying?

“Hongjoong… he scares me sometimes, but he’s trying to be around humans for the first time. You keep on treating me like fragile glass… like I’ll explode and throw you out” she said and I sighed… maybe she was right.

“You keep competing for my attention… Yeosang is the same way. I don’t want you guys to fight each other… get along please?” she begged as she gripped my shoulders hugging me tight as I walked… Her words made me feel guilty. 

“I won’t get rid of you… you’re not trash,” she said and I felt tears from my eyes…

“I’m rewriting my book, you know?” she said and I wasn’t shocked at it. Wooyoung said that she might start writing soon with how much she’s been daydreaming. “You and Hongjoong are in it,” she said and I was shocked she’d put us in the book. “Seonghwa?” she said as I stopped to look over my shoulder at her, she smiled prettily at me with her eyes filled with wonder and life almost like stars. 

“You’re more valuable to me than anything I own… the others are just as important. None of you are a collection, you’re my family” she said and I smiled softly at her soft features. 

“Just promise to never leave me,” she said as she started closing her eyes tiredly. 

“I’d never think of it, princess” 

“Why are you two home so late?!” Yeosang yelled only to be smacked by Wooyoung once they saw her on my back their eyes widened. “Is she okay?” Wooyoung asked and I nodded. 

I noticed San behind the two looking at her just as worried… he’ll be back to normal soon. I'll make sure he does... while even Hongjoong was looking from afar, also worried. I sighed before I decided to speak up. 

“Let’s not fight, '' I said and the three hybrids before me and Hongjoong looked at me confused. “She doesn’t like us fighting… we’re a family to her. The least we can do is try to be one” I said and they all nodded. “Yeosang?” I said and he looked at me with an expression I couldn’t understand. 

“I don’t want to fight you anymore. I owe y/n a lot… but I won’t fight you for stupid nonsense anymore” I said and he nodded. “I won’t either… I guess I should try to respect you a bit more. You are very old.” he said and I scoffed. He doesn’t change… I kinda prefer it this way. Our useless teasing…

“You’re right… you’ve been with us for almost a month now. For y/n we should try to get along” Wooyoung said and San stayed silent next to him as we now looked at the tiny tiger. “I agree… we all owe in our different ways. We all want to protect her, and we will for others. It’s useless arguing with each other” Hongjoong said and I agreed. 

“Put her to bed. We should all go to sleep soon now that she’s back” Hongjoong said and everyone listened. I went to her room where I softly put her down… I suddenly hear the door open to see Yeosang. “I’ll undress her,” he said and I agreed.

“What’d she say to make you say that, by the way?” he asked and I smiled. “We’re her family, she said we were her most valuable treasure” I said and his eyes widened. “Her friends said she was lonely… until she adopted San and then it's been busier than ever.” he confessed as he took off her heels while she succumbed to her soft mattress and fluffy pillows. 

“We’re too alike… I come from a world where I was drowning in expensive and luxurious lifestyles… but none of it was worth it until meeting her. You tigers are the same way.” he said and I chuckled. 

“I wished for an owner to pamper me… I saw so many hybrids in shows, lots of them younger ones with their owners. They looked at me like they didn’t know what abuse was. I envied them…” I confessed and the doberman sighed.

“y/n gives us everything… Sometimes I think she’ll get rid of me.” I said and the Doberman sighed. “She wouldn’t ever… I thought the same way. She, however, would never, if she were to get another hybrid I’d feel threatened but I knew she wouldn’t ever replace nor abandon me” he confessed and I nodded. 

“Go so I can put her in something comfortable,” Yeosang said and I nodded. 

“Now get out” he said and I laughed as I walked out to my room I shared with Hongjoong with a smile and for once genuinely of pure happiness…

“You look like a maniac” I heard as I saw Hongjoong… my longest and only companion for a while. I hugged him who hugged me back questioningly… “Are you okay?” he asked and I felt my tail wag uncontrollably.

“We have a family Hongjoong… somewhere we belong” 

@wonuangel @danirael @angelsaway @krissroo @minkysmilk @mayonnaise-on-toast @robertsbbygirl @superbbananananana @hyukssunflower @kitty4hwa @justconniez @senpai-of-doom @kibs-and-bits @caityelise99 @ilovekinny @ateezennie23 @wooahaelemons @purplelady85 @watamotee33@chidess97 @littlelostdemonofthelight @maliamaiden @burntarm1n @spooo00oky @eastleighsblog @momo-peachy @kitstar1117 @quartzpirate @sunnyhokyu @iwishiwasrichasfuck @theginger543210 @pandolinka @ddaeing @kpopnightingale @slid3er @kekdo-520 @puppyminnnie @sparklinghwa222 @calicanbeevil @itsvxlentine @atinism @loumin908 @smally97 @rxnexxi @acetruepunk @majesticbeluga @namjooncrabs @tashizxy @itstheghostofmypast @smilefordongil @teeziny @totallynotlyntv @kyeos4ng @prodsh00ky @acescavern

please don't be a silent reader !! reblog, comment, and like <3

[ao3commentoftheday]

I have a problem with commenting. I really like doing it! I love seeing people being happy because of them (it uh. Might also make me feel power that just a few words from me can make someone's day, it feels really nice and I'd love to do it as often as I can) and I almost always make them looong

The problem is, the moment I feel like the author in some way depends on me writing comments (they write back that they can't wait for me seeing the newest chapter or (and it makes me feel So Much Worse) I see that I'm the only person commenting) I feel stuck. I can't make myself comment so I stop reading the work so I don't read without commenting because I just can't, I get anxious and frustrated and awful (plus I miss out on reading those great, great stories)

I also really don't like skipping commenting on a chapter

This is why I don't often comment on on-going or on individual chapters of multuchaptered finished fics (i did a "writing individual comments in my notepad and then update them all" a few times tho) because I feel bad if I miss a chapter or the comment is too short when previously I'd comment a couple paragraphs (generally I don't like making short comments but if it's a one-shot I don't feel that bad)

Do you have any ideas what to do? I really like making authors happy and I feel like a bad person when I drop them but sometimes commenting feels like a chore and I read fanfics to feel better not worse...

I've answered asks before with "I could have written this" but this is a case where I literally did.

Somehow you've turned a pleasure into a duty and now you're stuck. How can you get back to the fun of commenting without winding up back in the guilt-prison you built out of your own rules?

I haven't figured it out yet, really, but what I've got so far is: don't be so hard on yourself. Give yourself a little grace.❤️

Don't open up a fic with the expectation that you'll write a comment on it. Just read the story with no specific plan to write a comment at the end. Enjoy the chapter or the whole fic. Let your mind be taken away to the world the author has created for you.

Afterwards, if you want to thank them for writing, do that. If you want to tell them you loved it, do that. If you want to point out a particular scene or line or feeling that really hit you, do that. But also the kudos button is there for when you don't have words. Emojis are there for when all you can say is a string of hearts. And sometimes you don't have the energy or the brainpower (or the freedom from anxiety) to leave anything at all, and that's okay too.

Reading fic isn't your job and commenting isn't your homework. You don't need to get an A+ in understanding themes and quoting lines back to the author. And in those cases where you feel like the responsibility has become too much? That's your sign that it's time to take a step away and do something else for a while until you're ready to come back again. And when you do come back? Start reading without commenting first and then see how things go.

[yan-lorkai]

Hi, so I've read the rules, but I'm not sure how much I can ask for. Can I get a headcanon about the TWST Housewardens finding out that the GN! reader has a boyfriend? Oh, and the reader's boyfriend is just some random student NPC in their dorms. If it's too much, just some of them reacting would be cool. Thanks!

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/N: Finally done, yay! Been a while since I wrote for all the housewardens so it is a little lengthy. Hope u enjoy, darling!

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Tw: Yandere content, stalking, implied violence and kidnapping.

He's been watching you this whole time, feeling his heart beat inside his chest whenever he heard your sweet laugh and saw you smiling. His feelings slowly start to grow as you become friends, but there's just one problem: You have a boyfriend. What an unpleasant surprise! Well, what a shame that your boyfriend will disappear under suspicious circumstances that will never be resolved and he will be right here by your side to comfort you :)

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Azul know just what to do. He plots and plans and trap your boyfriend on a deal he can't refuse. It's a tricky deal, trickier than usual, I mean, a one in a lifetime chance, whatever it is. However you won't never know what happened to him, not when you come to Azul asking if he knows something, not when he is comforting you and rubbing your back as you cry while he pretends to be just as sad as you. As if he ever feel sad to lead your boyfriend to his demise when he can have you like this, when he can mend your heart himself and love you like you deserve. Though when you recover Azul will show you just how devotion and love truly feels. He has been deprived of it for too long, bullied and teased, and he will have you, even if you found out about the deal, even if you claim to hate him, he can bear it.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Kalim is a sweetheart on the surface level, so happy all the time, so friendly. But he is oh so suffocating, always touching your arm and pulling you into a hug, kissing your cheeks and forehead and laughing when you tell him to knock it off. People always tend to assume he is your boyfriend and tell you that you too are a very cute couple, and they're always shocking when you tell them that Kalim isn't your boyfriend but just your bestie. Not yet, at least. On an intimate level, he likes to think about what to do with your actual boyfriend. People love money more than they love humans. Can he bribe him? If so, how can he guarantee that he won't go back on his word? Or should him send Jamil to do his dirty work? Mmm, so many options, either way, by the end of the month your boyfriend will disappear and you will need a friendly shoulder to lean on and Kalim is more than happy to be there for you.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Idia already has Ortho investigating this student and is so easy to watch him since he is in Ignyhide. He isn't worthy your time, your love and care, he is but a little plankton, not very smart or interesting, Idia don't know what you had seen on your actual boyfriend but he is never going to tell this to your face. Instead, he invite you to his room to play and study, assuming a more softer approach about this little problem than most yanderes, telling you how your boyfriend has been acting strange and visiting another person's room for a very long period of time. He even show you a very factual and not at all fabricated camera footage as a proof. Idia considers himself a very good friend when he comfort you and wipes your angry tears, telling that you deserve better, that he can treat you better. After all, it wasn't your fault that your boyfriend was a cheater. And Idia can show you what true love is.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Vil is horrified about your taste in men. Like, really, Liebling? You love this... Thing? Well, He has to give recognition where it is due and as a Pomefiore student, your boyfriend tried to polish and better himself. Though it wasn't enough. He wouldn't be good enough for you even in thousand years. Vil likes to imagine how he would take care of you, love you, polish you. He likes to imagine how he'd let down his walls around you and told funny stories from his movies or backstage gossips. Knowing you have a boyfriend kinda of shatter those thoughts. He tried to be happy for you, he really tried but in the end he couldn't help himself. So he created a potion, so sweet and yummy, and gave it to your boyfriend. Simple as that. Having you crying on his lap was just a bonus, a bonus Vil would cherish dearly.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Malleus has what he wants. And he wants you. It's only natural that things will fall in order after he states his claim on you, every single little thing start to goes wrong in your relationship and you, stressed and sad, tells Malleus every single thing while he comforts you. Sweet words are whispered in your ears, great dreams greets you everytime you sleep and in your dreams you are always so happy by Malleus's side, exploring woods and swimming in lakes, petting sheeps and listening to the birds singing. Simple things. Great things. While you sleep, Malleus send nightmares to your boyfriend, makes him so horrified and paranoid that he can't even form coherent thoughts. He wants you and he will have you, even if he has to tear you two apart like this, since your boyfriend took to isolate and murmur to himself.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Riddle doesn't like this. He quite dislike your boyfriend a lot, he is messy, a rule breaker, a bad student, he isn't worthy your time and love. Riddle is consumed by a jealousy that make him see red, nowadays he is always collaring your boyfriend, always making him busy so you two can spend less time together. And if you come to Heartslabyu to try and spend time with him, Riddle will just lie to you and tell you he didn't do anything and has no idea about what you're talking about. Yes, he gaslight you. But he is doing that because he knows what's good to you and that is certainty not your boyfriend. Instead, he fills your head with doubts and lies, and takes you to the Unbirthday party so you can have a little fun. Savor the present moment, the little snarky jokes Riddle tells you and the delicious tea. Forget about your boyfriend before Riddle takes matters into another level.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Leona is smug. Like, really? You love this guy? He is so much better than your boyfriend, more smarter, stronger, he huffs whenever he see you two being all cute and chummy together. He should be the one holding you, kissing you, cuddling you. You are his precious mate so he put all his effort in conquering your heart and love. And when Leona is determined to do something there's nothing in the whole world that can make him stop. He plans and make so many strategies in order to be successful all the while he has Ruggie making the dirty work for him. Kill him, bribe him, whatever, Leona will make you a single person again before making you fall in love with him. Even if he has to turn your boyfriend into dust, he will without thinking twice.

[orcasoul]

Joel Miller Headcanons

Joel's And Your First Time

18 + Minor's DNI 🚫

Joel can't remember the last time he felt a connection this strongly with a woman. He finds himself lost in your enigmatic pull, noticing every little thing about you, from the way your nose scrunches when you giggle, how you become so passionate when talking about a subject close to your heart, the way you hold yourself with grace, your playful and witty personality and how your natural beauty radiates without even having to try.

Sometimes he can't fathom how someone like you could want someone like him, yet here you both are, seven months into your relationship. That word still sound so strange to Joel. In a brutal world of cordyceps and lawlessness he'd never even wanted a romantic relationship. For the longest time he was fine with no strings attached hookups, never daring to invest any emotion in a woman who could be torn away in the blink of an eye. It was better that way.

But then you waltzed into his life and pulled the rug from under his feet, sending his walls crashing to the ground. A few months of flirting, subtle gestures and stolen glances was all it took before the two of you confessed your mutual love for one another and you've both been inseparable ever since, even gaining the nickname 'The Lovebirds' by some of Jackson's residents.

Sitting on the setee, watching your eyes sparkle in the light of the fireplace as you tell Joel yet another story of your life 'Before', he realises how much he hangs on your every word, the sweet lilt of your voice is something he'll never be able to get enough of. Setting his whisky glass on your table, Joel turns back to you observing how you suddenly seem nervous. "You okay?'" Joel asks, his voice soft with concern. "Yeah... um... I'm good," you answer sheepishly, then put your glass next to his.

Before Joel knows what's happening, you're straddling his lap, kissing him deeply and sensually, your hands delicately gripping his hair, while his own find their way to your waist, pulling you tight against his body. Your sudden moan into his mouth electrifies Joel's entire body, arousal coursing it's way south. "Joel?..." his name leaves your lips in a breathless whisper, as you pull away slightly, noses still touching. "Mmhmm," Joel hums, lost in the haze of you. "I want you to make love to me." Oh, that cleared his foggy mind!

He pulls his head back, quickly, assessing your expression to see if it's what you really want, if maybe you'd just let it slip out without thinking, but all he can see is love and want written all over your face. "Are you sure?" he asks, just to be thorough, "I told you I don't mind waiting." Hell, he'd wait until the end of time if that's what it took just to be with you. He knows that to you, sex is a very emotional and intimate act, never being one for hookups and he respects the hell out of that. After all, everyone is different.

He let's out a deep groan as you rub your core over his very obvious hard-on. "I want you, Joel. I want all of you," you purr seductively into his ear, "I'm ready, take me to bed, baby." Joel chuckles at the little yelp you give as he grips both of your arse cheeks and effortlessly stands up, carrying you up the stairs with ease. He gently sets you down on the bed, lifting your chin to look ardently in to your eyes. "You really want this?" "I do," you smile up at him with the biggest heart eyes, "I want to feel the man I love inside me."

Joel wastes no time in pulling your top off, followed by your bra, all of your clothes, until you are fully naked before him and what a fucking sight you are! "So beautiful," Joel gushes as he takes in the sight of utter perfection. Moments later, his own clothes are a discarded pile on the floor and he watches as your roving eyes greedily drink him in, staring at his hardened shaft, while biting your bottom lip. You eagerly pull Joel on top of you as you lay back on the bed. Hands wander, seeking out bare flesh as you both fully explore each other's bodies for the first time.

Joel trails wet, languid kisses down you neck, feeling your pulse quicken under his tounge, until he reaches your breasts. He gently latches his mouth to your breast, swirling his tounge around your pebbled nipple. A grin spreads over his face as you arch your chest upwards, seeking more of his mouth. Joel releases your nipple with a 'pop' and a devilish smirk. "I'm gonna take good care of you, sweetheart," he croons while slowly moving his fingers to your soft folds. "So wet already," he marvels, "All this for me, huh?"

His fingers then find your clit and he starts to rub in circles, gradually building speed, resulting in a spectacle he'll never forget; Your head tipped back, mouth in the shape of an 'o', your chest heaving and the melody of your euphoric cry as he draws the first orgasm from your trembling body. He allows you to catch your breath for a minute, enjoying your blissed out appearance. "Think you can give me another one, sweetheart?" he asks in a sultry tone. "Mmhmm...," you nod, deliriously.

Joel's thick fingers slide down to your entrance, carefully parting your lips. Slowly and delicately, he pushes one finger into the warmth of your tunnel, followed by another, stroking your spongy spot until he can tell you're close. He kisses down your belly as your moans grow louder, finally settling on your clit. Between pumping his fingers in and out and licking and sucking your sensitive bundle, he has turned you into a writhing mess beneath him, griping his hair and bucking up into his mouth.

Every obscene moan, pant and wail coming from you is music to Joel's ears, causing him to smile against your sex. He's the one making you feel this good. With a shudder of your thighs and a scream of his name, your second orgasm crashes over you, coating him in your juices. Joel laps at your release like a man parched, the sweetest nectar to ever grace his tastebuds. "You still with me, darling?" Joel teases as he moves up your body to kiss you, giving you a taste of your own release. "Yeah... Joel, that was.. wow!" you pant as you begin to come back down from your high.

Joel's painfully hard cock presses into your hip, a testament to just how much he wants you. "Your turn," you smirk as you reach down, wrapping your soft hand around his girth, slowly pumping, while spreading a bead of pre cum over his glistening head. Joel knows he won't last much longer if you keep this up. Reaching down to lightly grab your hand, he stops your ministrations. "Darling, I'm not gonna last much longer like this and I want to feel your pussy around my cock, now," he groans. " Then take it," you purr, nipping his neck, "It's all yours."

Good god! He feels ready to blow his load from your words alone. Lining himself up at your entrance, Joel gazes into your eyes as he slowly sinks into your heat, causing both of you to gasp as he bottoms out. Your arms and legs wrap around his body, holding him in place, both of you remaining still to relish in this new intimacy. After a few moments you whine, "Fuck me, Joel!", your hand grabbing his arse cheek. He dosen't need to be told twice! Pulling out to the tip, he pushes himself back in, with just the right amount of force to begin with, thrusting harder and faster as your moans become louder and your nails dig into his shoulders. "oh, Joel! Right there, baby!"

He knows there'll be little crescent shapes over his back for a few days. He'll wear them as a badge of honour! "Fuck, sweetheart! So...ugh... tight,... ugh... so perfect!" He's getting close now, wishing it would never end; The velvety soft warmth enveloping his dick, squeezing and pulsing with every thrust is intoxicating, heightening all of his senses. The downright sinful sounds of wet skin slapping against wet skin, accompanied with your cry of his name may just be Joel's new favourite sounds.

Joel reaches between your bodies to circle your clit once again, determined to draw one last orgasm from you before he reaches his own climax. It only takes several seconds before you are clamping down on his cock, thighs gripping him like a vice, voice shuddering as you gush all over his pubic area. Chasing his own release, Joel asks, "where do you want me?" "On my... tits," you reply breathlessly. Another few thrusts and Joel quickly pulls out, painting your heaving chest in thick ropes of hot cum.

He flops down beside you as you both catch your breath. Pressing his forehead to yours and gently stroking your arm, Joel whispers, "You okay, darling? Wasn't too rough?" The blissfully fucked out look on your face alone tells Joel you're okay. "I'm great, baby. More than great!" Joel gazes adoringly at you while you cup his cheek in one hand. "That was everything I hoped it would be. How was it for you?" Joel smiles broadly, "Fucking amazing, sweet girl!" He presses a kiss to your forehead, then to your nose, then to your lips.

"Be right back," he says as he heads to the bathroom. Moments later he returns with a warm, wet towel and tenderly cleans you up. Laying back down beside you, he takes you in his arms, bringing your head to rest on his chest as you both bask in the afterglow of your actions. Joel can tell by your slow, even breathes that you've fallen alseep. He takes this moment to appreciate everything about you, his heart aching with how much love he holds for you. You are IT for him, The One, and you were absolutely worth waiting for.

[effortandmore]

isn't this more beautiful | knj x f!reader

summary: you meet namjoon by accident. you fall for him without noticing. he slips in and out of your life at will, and you let him. but as you get closer, you start to wonder if he’ll always feel lonely, even with you by his side. or, a small story told out of order about time, loneliness, and knowing (or not) what we deserve

pairing: namjoon x f!reader

rating: explicit (18+ please)

genre: smut, angst, a lil fluff/hopeful ending

au: this is idolverse

warnings/tags: this is told asynchronously, so please know these little vignettes are not in chronological order. namjoon is a mess, but so is reader. she's an artist so there's one cliche on board already. they probably should talk more about important things but neither of them like feelings. smoking, drinking, smut, including unprotected sex, oral sex, exhibitionism, maybe like… mention of belly bulge kink, cumplay (kind of)

word count: ~6700

a/n: this is for the bts x beatles across the btuniverse collab hosted by my dearest @ugh-yoongi who also checked this for vibes. so did @the-boy-meets-evil in its early stages - thank you both!! banner + borders from @hobeemin (thank you so much!!!!). my member was namjoon (obv) and my song was eleanor rigby. idk how it really shows up in here except through vibes lol

you can find everything i write on ao3

Namjoon talks in unanswerable questions. He calls you at hours the owls don’t even see, talks quietly even though you’re not sure who he’s afraid of disturbing.

“Do you remember Bageundae?”

“Of course I do.”

“If you pressed your body against one side of the rock, and I pressed mine to the other, could you feel me?”

What you want to say: go to sleep, Namjoonie.

What you say instead: “I can always feel you.”

“Always is a funny word,” he replies. “Maybe worse than never.”

“Maybe?”

“You never know,” he says, and you can hear the sad smile he wears even from your desk across the ocean.��

Sometimes, when people give the retelling of how they meet their “person,” it’s all sparks and fireworks and floods and worlds being turned upside down. 

That’s not how you met Namjoon. 

You met him softly.

You met him in a lazy river current and not a waterfall.

You met him like Sunday morning sunshine sneaking through cracks in defeated curtains.

You met him and the woodwind orchestra blew a quiet processional before the brass joined in much later.

You met him with a whisper. Literally. 

“This is one of my favorites,” he said, a stranger whispering beside you. He wasn’t even talking to you—you remember being pretty sure about that. Just announcing it as an affirmation to himself and you happened to be there to be the unintentional recipient. 

Now, you know it’s probably a foreshadowing of your whole relationship. 

Then, you said, “It’s a misconception that you have to whisper in a museum. It’s not a library.” 

Namjoon didn’t even give you the sitcom satisfaction of arguing with you about it. Just gave you an affronted side eye and huffed under his breath. Crossed his arms over his chest and planted himself further into the floor, staring at the Chung Sang Hwa in front of you. 

To yourself, you rolled your eyes. It was almost like he was determined to outwait you, that there would be some satisfaction in it for him if you left for the next work on the wall before he did. 

He didn’t know (yet) that you were as or more stubborn than he was. So, you both waited. You didn’t even know what you were waiting for, just that neither of you wanted to lose. 

(And now look at you.)

It was near closing time on a weekday, and all of the special exhibits were crowded earlier, but the permanent collections were easy to be alone in. You were almost wishing someone else would walk in. Minutes passed, neither of you moved. In your periphery, you saw Namjoon stealing glances at you when he (presumably) thought you wouldn’t notice. 

Finally, “This isn’t going to be some naver post later, is it?” 

You were annoyed, not blind. You knew exactly who he was (or did you, you wonder now)—everyone in this country knew, his picture plastered over billboards and bus stops. 

“Which story? BTS RM, weirdly stubborn art jerk, won’t walk away from painting first? Or, BTS RM casually checked me out at a gallery when he thought I wasn’t looking?” You didn’t look over at him, just raised your eyebrow in a challenge. 

“Don’t flatter yourself.” 

“So, you prefer the ‘jerk’ narrative?”

“I prefer to be left alone.” 

And you still don’t know why you said what you said after that, as you turned to face him for the first time since he walked up next to you. “You probably don’t get that very often. Alone time.”

Namjoon looked back at you then, and it still wasn’t butterflies or choruses of angels. Instead, he just looked surprised and a little sad. “I don’t.” 

“I’m sorry,” you replied. And you found that you meant it.

“Do you ever wonder,” Namjoon said, and again, you didn’t know if it was to you or to himself, “how it is you can be surrounded by people and still feel profoundly lonely?”

You hadn’t. But you still thought you understood what he meant. “No, but it makes sense that you would.”

Namjoon laughed then, maybe a little bitter, maybe just nervous. “I shouldn’t be talking to you about this,” he said. 

“And yet…”

“And yet,” he agreed with a small nod. 

The two of you were quiet again then, but not in a stand-off anymore. Behind you, you knew his manager was fidgeting, worrying that something was off. That you’d reveal yourself to be some sort of wild stalker or obsessed fan. 

“It’s not personal,” Namjoon offered, like he could already read your mind. 

“I know,” you conceded. 

You started to walk away, ready to see a different painting, ready to not feel like you were doing something wrong by incidentally being in the same room as someone famous, when Namjoon stopped you. “He wanted to paint heartbeats, to give them a language, to let people see what all the emotions that fuel our hearts would look like,” he said. “Do you think it worked?”

Next to this person that you didn’t know but somehow you thought you might understand anyway, you nodded.

Next to Namjoon in a room so quiet you were sure you could hear the steady thrum of your heartbeat (or his, or both beating at the same time), you nodded.

Next to him, who you didn’t yet know would become Him, you nodded.

“Yeah,” you said gracelessly. 

“Can you see it?” Namjoon asked. 

“Which one?” you countered.

He shrugged, not breaking eye contact. “Aren’t love and hate and pain and pleasure all the same at the end of the day?”

Eventually, he will teach you that they are.

It starts with phone calls.

(Sometimes it seems it might end with one, too.)

Namjoon speaks like the shallow pools of blended color on a painter’s well-loved palate. There is no certainty. He uses gray words like “sometimes,” and purple ones like “maybe,” and the soft peach “don’t you think?” 

“Morning, Namjoon-ssi,” you hum into the air, hoping you’re close enough to the microphone that you don’t have to shout. 

“What if we were in Florence?” he asks in return. 

“Then I would still be asleep, or you would be getting smothered with a pillow for waking me up.”

He laughs, not the bright one you know he saves for when there’s an audience, but a small one that bubbles up from his chest with a deep timbre. “So, in Florence, you and I are in bed together?” 

You sigh into your (not Italian) pillow. 

“Good morning,” he adds. “Can we speak informally?”

Your sigh turns into a smile you hadn’t asked for. “Yeah.”

“Good.” 

You’ve been speaking for weeks. Namjoon is busy, you are not (at least, not in the same way, not to the same magnitude). You make a space for him in your life with much less consideration than you usually use with others. Or, maybe he just takes it. 

“What are your plans for the weekend?” he asks. 

“Same thing as all the other weekends.” 

“Can I watch this time?” 

“It’s boring.” 

Namjoon pauses. “Does it bore you?” 

“No, it’s what I love.” 

“Then,” he says, in what you think is probably his typical fashion (at least with you, it is), “I think I might find it easy to love, too.” 

“Oh, Namjoonie,” you tease, “I’m starting to think you find everything easy to love.” 

He doesn’t say anything for a long time. This is a thing you’ve noticed about him. He’s serious in a flash. He’s jokes and teasing and talking to you about what ifs and what nots until suddenly he is very determined that he should say something meaningful. Or very convinced that you have. 

“I want to,” he says. “I want my heart to be more full than my mind. It’s hard.” 

“I know,” you say, even though for you, it’s not. 

“I’m glad you don’t,” he says earnestly.

“Come see me on Saturday,” you say, deflecting. You can do this for him, you think. You haven’t seen him since the museum, but you’ve seen the pastel splashes of his words, the geometric lines of his heart, the post-modern dilemma he thinks he carries down deep. You’ve seen the important things, so you know you can give him the distraction he doesn’t know he needs. 

“I think I will.” 

You hang up in black and white. 

Namjoon fucks like a surrealist. Shifts your body until you’re still recognizable in the mirror, but fundamentally different, too. 

Pulls your hips up too high: Ernst. 

Makes butterflies soar out of your mouth, gusty with your labored breath: Magritte. 

Fucks you cross-eyed, spit dripping hourglass slow from your lips: Dali. 

You thought he would be a talker, like he is on the phone. Thought he’d try and work through the freightliner of thoughts steaming through his brain. But Namjoon is all breath and whispers and sighs and moans and fragments of the pretty words he used to get you like this: bent over your worktable, chest smeared into cadmium red and titanium white. He talks, but it's oil paint instead of watercolor this time: thick and precise. 

“Fuck, you look perfect like this,” he says, voice a little dreamy, slapping another pink-paint handprint onto your ass. You’re never going to get it scrubbed off your skin.

It makes you laugh, breathy and high. 

You came first (and second) on his tongue. Told you to keep painting while he got underneath you, pretty on his knees, honest and plain telling you he wanted you.

“Want to see what art tastes like,” he said, cotton soft breath on your thigh. 

“Silly,” you replied. “Does anyone fall for lines like that?”

“Doesn’t matter, don’t want you to fall. I told you to keep standing.” He’s smug when he licks across your core, startling you. 

It went like that until your hand was shaking and the thick outlines around nameless figures on the canvas shook with you. 

“Pretty painter, taste as good as you look,” he paused to say. You moaned when he fucked his tongue into you, clenched around it, wanted to be greedy, wanted more, wanted everything. “Sound even better,” he added, chin slick, eyes sparkling. 

After you came, he didn’t stop. When your paintbrush fell to the ground, he doubled his efforts, two fingers sliding inside of you while he sucked your sensitive clit between his lips. “Come on, baby,” he said, “I know you have another one for me.” 

Your hand gripped his hair instead of your brush, you chased the overstimulation instead of wriggling away. It felt right, somehow, to just take what you want, and Namjoon didn’t seem to mind. Moaned into your cunt when you fucked his face, holding him in place while your hips moved. A muffled, “fuck, please baby,” into your skin when you pulled his hair just to see what it would feel like. Lips curved into a grin when you rocked against him through your second orgasm. 

And now, he reaps the benefits of his efforts. You’re pliant beneath him, fucked out and pleased, easy and eager as he slides his thick cock in and out. You watch him carefully in the mirror, you see his focus on where he thrusts inside of you, his awe when you clench around him and pull him just a little farther in. You see him grin when he slaps you, telling you he knows you’re watching, asking if you want more. “A greedy little thing,” he breathes. “Think you want more? Think you want me to fuck you harder, want my cock in you so deep you can feel it in your stomach?”

You feel stupid with it, nodding in agreement, mouth open and drooling onto your worktable while he fucks you to a third orgasm. 

“You fuck me so good. Such a big dick, gonna feel you all week, Namjoonah.” 

“You should paint this,” he says, slowing his thrusts. “No one’s ever looked as good as you do taking my cock.” 

“No one?” you ask, suddenly a little desperate for the praise.

Namjoon bends to kiss the back of your neck, lets his lips mark a pathway down your spine that his fingertips follow. He’s so deep inside of you, hips grinding slow against your skin. When he reaches your waist, he grips and pulls you into him even closer. 

The space between you (barely there to begin with) bends to his will: Carrington. 

“Nobody, baby,” he whispers his first certainty to you, fingertips teasing between your thighs now, careful where you’re still too sensitive, but wordlessly asking you to give in, to give more. 

“I’ll give you anything,” you say in response to a question you don’t think he’ll ask as he starts to circle your clit, pulls almost all the way out of you and fucks back in harder than before.

“You’ll take even more,” he says, and he comes inside of you, hips stuttering unsure, a bassline under the clear melody of his words. 

Lazy, you lie face up together on discarded canvas, forgotten starting points of ideas you hadn’t intended to complete. Unabashed, you have a knee up so your thighs don’t tack together with the mess you’ve made. Namjoon talks about nothing, blows smoke in halos above your heads and offers you the cigarette careful between his long fingers. You don’t smoke, but you hold it anyway, watching him, carding the fingers of your free hand through his hair as he stares at his cum leaking out of you, catches it on the tender part of your thigh and wipes swirls and squares onto the canvas around you. 

He finishes the thoughts you began before you even knew him.

“Tell me a story,” you whisper roughly into the air, hoping he can hear you through your shitty phone microphone. 

It’s early, that sacred pre-dawn you save for yourself (and now, somehow, for him)  and you’ve woken up from a shitty sleep and a worse dream and couldn’t stop yourself from calling him back when you saw you’d already missed a call from him. 

“It’s late, baby.” 

You let out a puff of breath, Namjoon laughs almost silently at you. 

“Please?”

“You don’t like books,” he says, almost a tease. It’s true. You like them conceptually, but you told him you don’t feel like you have the patience sometimes. That you want to give them energy you don’t have.

“But I like stories.” 

“FIne.” Even his sigh is fond. You like him like this so much—easy, willing, teasing but still giving in eventually. 

You fall asleep fast, the first words you hear are the last. “Once upon a time…” When you wake up, you have messages from him. A whole lot of them, a whole story written out in your Katalk chat. A love story, sort of, one where they’re star-crossed and destined but always just a little too far apart. It ends with a “maybe” instead of a “happily ever after.” You don’t even let yourself think about that too much—it’s perfectly him—a little drama for the sake of it, a little sadness to make the joy feel better.

Your world is tiny. A firefly in a sky full of bold, bright stars. It is you, in your studio, alone. It is you with your friends, it is you getting a cat so you have someone to talk to when your friends aren’t around. 

For Namjoon, it expands. A firefly to a star to a burning red giant. 

Still, it feels small when you’re inside of it. It’s you with your friends, it’s you with Namjoon in your studio, it’s Namjoon gently stroking your cat’s fur while he talks to himself and you paint. 

It’s difficult to describe, but when you’re with him, you either have his full attention to the extent it’s overwhelming, or he seemingly pays no attention to you or what you’re doing. Just works on whatever he’s working on while you paint, speaking to you because he knows you won’t answer. 

On one of the nights when you’re together (but not at all), you finally ask. He’d let himself in around two in the morning and kissed the top of your head before he put headphones in and stuck his face into his notebook on the other side of the room. He likes to sit by the window so he can crack it open and blow his smoke out of it instead of into the room. 

“Why’d you come tonight?” 

“I wanted to be near you.” 

“I don’t think you’ve even looked at me.” It’s not an accusation, just an observation. You like that Namjoon will know the difference, you like that he’s hard to offend, and doesn't mind when you speak plainly. Gives you plain answers in return (usually). You stick the small paint brush you’ve been using sideways in your mouth and grab a larger one.

“Baby, you’re all I can see lately,” he says, staring at the trails of smoke curling around the outside of the window pane. 

You laugh around the red-tipped paint brush you’re biting down on, a pause for the cadmium to add a little white to the edges. Namjoon looks over then, snaps a picture of you with your eyes crinkled and your head thrown back, red oil threatening to drip like blood. 

“Beautiful,” he says, looking at the picture before he goes back to writing.

There are more phone calls every time he travels for work. It’s the same routine. He texts you a photo of something he’s seen that he liked, and when you respond, whether it’s five minutes later or five hours, he asks if he can call you. 

Sometimes they’re quiet, simple recountings of the things that have happened in his day or are about to happen in the next (timezone dependent), sometimes they’re ranting about the industry and the pressure and how he never thought about time until he realized he was running out of it. Sometimes he’s worked up in a different way, wants to see your face in pixelated halos while he comes on his own stomach, alone in a hotel room far away. 

All of this, you let him take. It’s not completely sacrificial, by any means. You like to hear him talk, better than any podcast you’ve ever heard. You like to know what he sees—he’s touched parts of the globe you could only dream about seeing. You like that he never makes it complicated. 

Never promises to take you there one day, never says he wishes you were with him.

You’ve been fucking in secret for a while when Namjoon wants you to meet his friends. 

“Why?” you ask. 

“Because I want you to see me, too,” he says. Simple and complicated at the same time. You’re afraid to ask why again, not sure if you want to know the answer. This is sex. It’s incredible sex that happens far more often than you thought he’d be able to make time for. 

He shows up at your studio at odd hours of the morning (or is it still night?) and talks to you about all the frivolous things while you take each other apart. Rambles about Murakami while he fucks you, tells you about a Youngkuk he saw while you swallow his dick. Naked and sprawled amongst your paint and mess and half-done work leaning against the walls, he tells you a little about his work, too. Asks you about a painting he’d seen you working on—diligently adding splashes of blue, tells you about a song he wants to do the same thing to somehow. Asks you uselessly if color and sound are the same thing if you think about them too hard.

They are. It’s a thing you both know that you don’t think many others do. It’s one thing he’s sure about. You think he only likes you because you’re sure about it, too. 

It’s incredible sex and pretty good conversations that happen at what most people probably think are strange times, but it’s not more than that. You can’t afford to get your heart confused, and he can’t afford to give you anything other than exactly what he’s giving. 

(He can’t afford to give you what he does, but he tells you there’s no reward without risk. 

“Am I the reward, then?” you tease. 

Namjoon never answers you.)

But you don’t tell him no. You think this is a bargain you can make with your heart, you can ask it for temperance while you do this thing he wants, you can meet the people who are truly important to him without convincing yourself you’re counted amongst them. You can try, anyway.

So, on a rooftop in Hannam-dong, you sip whisky with a photographer friend of Namjoon’s while he stands behind you, an arm wrapped around your waist, and alternates between sucking bruises into your neck and smoke into his lungs. 

“How’d you meet?” the photographer asks. 

“Hoam,” Namjoon replies into your skin. “She picked a fight.”

You laugh, he laughs, the photographer laughs. It’s carefree and light—your laugh, your thoughts, your skin under Namjoon’s wandering lips. Your heart is holding up its end of the deal, you don’t feel anything but pleased to be there, pleased to have his attention again (still). 

“Our Namjoonie likes a challenge,” his friend says. 

“Our Namjoonie is a challenge,” you tease.

Namjoon nips at the thin skin between your neck and shoulder in retaliation (or to prove your point, you’re not sure). You yelp, turn in his arms, see him smirking before he goes to take another drag. Swiftly, you pluck the cigarette out from between his lips, stamping it out on the cement. 

“Baby,” he whines, looking down where the cigarette is brown and white dust under your sneaker. 

“Better things to do with your mouth,” you retort, pressing up onto your tiptoes and pulling his bottom lip between your teeth. 

His mouth is ashy and yours tastes like peet, you’re sure. It’s filthy and a little cheap even though the cigarettes and the whisky and the lip balm he always wears were all expensive. Namjoon kisses like he does everything else: completely single-minded, treating the soft curves where your mouths meet as if they’re the edges of the world. 

You walk him a step back until he’s flush against the wall and lean into him again, pressing your bodies together hard and your lips together plush. He’s hard in his joggers and it’s every last piece of self-control you have to not sneak your hand under his waistband and tease him until he’s leaking and begging to get inside you. 

It wouldn’t take much. 

Takes a lot out of you to not drop to your knees and choke on his cock where everyone can see, where everyone would know for sure for sure for certain that he’s chosen you for this for now for some reason. To not make him moan around your name while he comes down your throat, a different kind of concert. 

Your hands stay in appropriate places while your lips beg for more. 

He was right, something he said the first time you hooked up: you are greedy for him. But he’s just as bad for you, begging in your ear for you to let him take you home, for you to let him fuck you right here so everyone knows you’re his (right now, in only this way, for some reason that neither of you are willing to speak into existence). 

You give in, no cares about who sees, it’s safe here with friends who would never betray him. You feel ever weightless against his body, whispering, “Yes, come on Joonie,” you say. “Need your cock. Need you.” 

(Briefly, it occurs to you that those sentences mean two completely different things, that they’re both true, and that either it’s Namjoon choosing to ignore the odd, heavy weight of the second one or you both are.)

You’re halfway out the door before you remember you were in the middle of a conversation. 

You don’t notice his friends whispering. 

You don’t notice his manager rolling his eyes. 

You don’t notice the way Namjoon looks at you when he knows you’re not looking back.

And you surely don’t let yourself notice that both of you want more than you’re willing to give in return.

“Can you come over?” he asks, but it doesn’t quite come out like a question. 

“I’m working, maybe a different time?” 

It’s abundantly clear he hadn’t expected you to say no. He’s silent on the other end of the line for a moment before he lets out an aborted sigh. 

“You can work whenever you want.”

Before you realize he’s serious, you laugh. “Yeah, and now is when I want to. You know how it is to get inspired.” 

Namjoon huffs. “I’d still make time for you.” 

It’s almost more absurd than the sentence before it. First, you know from firsthand experience that he wouldn’t, not really. Your “relationship”—or whatever you’re (not) calling it—revolves almost entirely around his schedule. And that’s fine with you, usually. It was expected, anyway. You don’t exactly drop everything to see him, but you haven’t been the best at keeping plans with the other people in your life, either. You don’t blame him for it, it’s just how things are, and it’s your own fault (at least partially) for bailing on your friends to “chase dick” as they so delicately put it. The second point is that you wouldn’t ask him to. If you don’t ask him to change for you, if you don’t need him to bend, then you never have to stop to ask yourself what the two of you are even doing. 

As the static of the connection is drawn out like a fermata with neither of you willing to break it, you wonder if this is your panoply, the armor you don, one of the ways you’ve been protecting your own heart without realizing it. 

“I wouldn’t ask you to,” you say, repeating it to yourself, admitting it to him. 

“I know,” Namjoon agrees, but he sounds disappointed instead of conciliatory. 

“I have to go.” 

“Sure,” he says quietly before he ends the call. “Let me know when you have time.”

Namjoon is obsessed with time. 

How much is left. 

How much has passed. 

How much until the next thing. 

How much he’s wasted. 

You think this is because he puts a deadline to his regret, says things like, “It’s been a year, I can’t worry about it anymore.” 

It’s hard not to wonder what schedule he’s given whatever this thing is between you. Are you still regrettable? Is there a space between regrettable and forgettable you can build shelter in? 

It makes him fill his time. He’s always doing something, likes to feel productive. Holds himself to an unspoken standard that you’re not even sure he could articulate if he needed to. He gets antsy when he has to relax, twitches and fidgets and fills the space with words. 

Sometimes, after sex when you’re quiet and lax and content to just sit with him, he uses the time to write. He sits tall up in your bed and holds his notebook above your head where it rests in his lap. He says you help him organize his thoughts, says having you to bounce things off of gives him clarity, says you think of words like colors like he does and you know how he likes to paint. Says he gets his best work done in this time in between pleasure and sleep. 

He hums to himself while he writes—you don’t even know if he knows he does it. Sometimes, it wakes you up from where you didn’t know you’d fallen asleep on top of him. 

“Is it morning yet?” you slur, still mostly asleep. 

“Relax, baby,” he whispers when you stir. “We’ve got time.” 

You don’t break up, because there’s nothing tangible to break. It’s a quiet thing, without dramatics, but oh how you grieve. 

It’s not linear. You’re not in a predictable pattern of feeling. One morning he doesn’t call, and you don’t even notice, but another makes you sob quietly in the corner of your studio, curled up under the window where he used to sit, like you can fuse yourself with the ghost of him. 

There are days when it’s easier, days when it’s difficult. When you mourn the way the curve of his bicep felt under your fingertips or the future you never considered until it wasn’t an option anymore. 

(You still don’t know if it ever was an option, but that’s the tricky thing—you can grieve for the things you had and also for those you didn’t. No one can stop you, Namjoon’s not there to pull you back to reality. He was never very good at that anyway.)

Some days, you wonder if he grieves, too. It would be easy to read interviews and read into things, it would be easy to assume every word, look, gesture is a window into his mind, but you try not to do that to yourself, try not to do it to him. 

At four in the morning on a Saturday, when days without him have long turned into weeks, you mindlessly scroll through your phone, idly wondering what he might be doing at this time when he used to be with you.

“The quiet hours are all for us,” he would whisper into your skin, no distractions, no demands. 

Those hours are infinitely louder in your mind without him there. So, you distract yourself, you look at every app and you get lost in reels and tiktoks and tweets and then you go back to instagram to see his story is updated. And you think twice before you do it, but you still click on it, curious and heartbroken and a little bit hoping he’s not already found someone new to spend daybreak with. 

It’s just a song, an old one, a sad one. Text he added in small font across the bottom: 

“Grief is love persevering,” he says.

In your corner, under the window, you cry over the silly quote for the both of you.

“Do you know about alpine sunflowers?” 

You laugh as you put your phone on speaker and set it down next to you. You’re not laughing at him, and he knows it—you’re full of a particular fondness you only feel for him, one you especially feel when he’s thousands of miles away, busier than busy and running on no sleep, but still calling you to bullshit. 

“No, tell me about them.” 

“Okay,” he says, voice pitched up, a little excited, like he’s sitting up straighter and getting ready to tell you something wonderful. “So, they only grow high up in the alpine tundra. The Swiss Alps, the Rockies, you know what I mean?” 

“What about the French Alps?” you tease.

Namjoon huffs. “There too, jagiya, but you’re missing the point.” 

“Okay, make me see it, then.” 

“I will if you’ll stop teasing.” 

You do stop, not because he’s making an impeccable argument, but because he’s always going somewhere with things like this, and without realizing it, you’ve stumbled into a reality where you’d follow him anywhere. 

“They grow slowly. ‘Cause of the snow and the subzero temperatures and the fact that there’s just not much up there for them. They take their time, you see?”

You’re starting to, your paintbrush dipping into a dusty yellow to test in a small corner of your canvas. You nod, forgetting he’s not there in the room with you, that you should speak if you actually want to answer him. He doesn’t care if you do or not, you know, not until he gets to the punchline, and sometimes not even then. 

On the other end of the line, you hear him suck in a breath before he continues. “They save up everything: the sunlight and the water and they hoard it all. They're selfish little things, baby. Just these spindly stalks of nothing sucking up everything good out of the Earth.”

“Hmm,” you murmur so he knows you’re with him. 

“But then, and this is the best part, then one day, after ten fucking years if you can believe that—after ten years do you know what happens?”

“Climate change?”

Namjoon ignores you now in favor of finishing his story. It’s fair enough, you suppose. “They bloom. Big and beautiful, brighter than all the other sunflowers like an explosion of little suns across the mountains.”

“That sounds beautiful,” you reply. 

And you know what Namjoon is thinking. That their beauty comes at a cost, that he hasn’t quite untangled yet whether he loves those stupid flowers for taking what they need and becoming something incredible or if he despises them for waiting so long to do it, for keeping something so lovely to themselves. It’s not what he says, though. As you paint something that might be tangling green vines of selfish sunflowers across gesso, he surprises you. 

“I wonder if in all relationships, someone is the sunflower and someone is the mountain.”

You can’t help but pause, because he might be right. One of you might take something from the other to become more beautiful, one of you might give up everything to be made more whole by the other, if even for a moment. 

“Maybe they are,” you agree. 

“You know what happens after the alpine sunflower blooms?” he asks, voice softer now, more tired as night turns into morning where he is. 

“What happens, Joon-ah?”

Namjoon sighs into the phone, the mood has changed since he called you—and this isn’t unusual. He can be ebullient and he’s gorgeous when he’s happy and carefree, but it changes quickly sometimes depending on the circumstances, depending on how much he’s let himself think, how much time he’s spent alone. 

“They die. They do all of that and they work hard for so long, and then they’re gone.” 

Carefully, you ask, “You want to be the mountain, then?” 

In the background, you can hear the rustle of sheets and the careful clacking of his glasses hitting the bedside table. He yawns, and you can picture the way he’s rubbing his palms over his face, pulling his shirt off before he dives all the way under the duvet, probably taking advantage of being alone to take up all the space he possibly can in the big hotel bed. He sounds half-asleep and sad when he finally answers you. 

“No, I don’t think so.” 

“Why not?” You put your brush down, stare at the small mess you’ve made. 

“The mountain has it worse, she can only watch them go.”

He is everywhere, even when he’s not. 

There are the obvious things: the ads with his face, the gum and coffee and candy with his picture on them, the music, his lyrics, playing in cafes and bars and pages and pages of his songs in every noraebang. 

There are the private things, too. The reminders that are just for you.

You see him in the way the leaves change: reliable but not predictable. 

You smell him after it rains, when you pass by cafes and smoking rooms and when you take the train to Yeosu just to remember the way the saltwater can make the air sting. You hear him every time you hear the train sail into the station at Yongsan and when you hear the river gently shove against its banks. 

It’s a couple months after you meet him, and along that river, you walk a less-loved path. With all the words you know, you explain all that to a friend, one you’ve known a long time, who doesn’t know who you’re talking about as you try to describe the person who’s taken up all of your time and attention lately. 

Because you can’t tell her anything about him, you tell her these things instead and you hope it’s enough for her to understand. 

And maybe she does, maybe better than you do. 

“Does that make sense?” you ask. “It’s hard to explain how much he is.” 

“To you,” she says. “He’s that much to you.” 

You hadn’t even considered that he wasn’t all of those things to everyone. It never even crossed your mind. It’s probably apparent that you’re mulling it over, trying to true it up with how you feel. 

She shrugs with one shoulder and smiles, brings a finger up to smooth the wrinkle in your brow.  “Don’t think about it too hard, yeah? Love is supposed to be simple.” 

Those two words had always each seemed so big to you, to carry so much power on their own. It’s the first time you let yourself consider putting the words Namjoon and Love in the same sentence. 

And in that moment, you know that if Namjoon is the changing leaf, you are the one that falls.

“Do you love me?” you ask—afraid to know the answer, more afraid of never knowing. You stare at unfinished bunches of sunflowers and handprints of pink and white borders that never got filled in. All of it undone, all of it paused. Abstracts in stop-motion waiting for… him to come back? You to get your shit together? Inspiration? What’s the difference, anyway, you think while you wait for him to speak. 

He doesn’t answer right away, hums a little, clicks his tongue, things you can sense more than you can hear. It’s a rude way to start a phone call, especially when you haven’t spoken in a long time, especially when you’re not each other's to love. 

Not anymore. 

Not that you know if you ever were. 

You need to know, you think. Questioning whether all of it even mattered is making you worse off than thinking it didn’t. Listening to him tell foreign interviewers he’s had a rough year, lost something great, was finding it hard to trust—himself, others—you, your brain supplies… it’s making you feel a little wild, a little reckless. 

One drink past good decisions, you call, and when he answers unexpectedly, you forgo “hello” for “do you love me?” 

You wait, expecting exasperation, complication, maybe a long and drawn out description of how maybe people can never know if they’re in love, if they have the capacity to love completely. 

And then he surprises you. 

“Of course I do,” he says, sounding soft and a little scared and more definitive than you’ve ever heard him. “You know that.” 

“I didn’t,” you reply. Not to be argumentative, but because it’s true. Because you love him and you want him to be happy and you know he’ll never get it right if he thinks what he gave you was enough. 

“I don’t think I knew then, either,” he concedes. “But I wish I had. I do now.” 

“I miss you.” 

“I know. But you did then, too.” 

The laugh you let out is wry and wet with your tears, the ones you’re shedding for the you that did miss him even then, even when he was by your side, even when he was buried inside of you. “I’m lonely,” is what you say, too honest. 

“I know. I am, too.” 

There’s nothing to say to that, you think. Maybe this is where it really ends, a torn-open wound for both of you—you’ll paint it all in vivid acrylics, probably never finish it just to be ironic. And then Namjoon adds, “Can I come over?”

You reply quickly, a taste of his own medicine. “Maybe,” you say. 

You should have never left, you mean. 

He laughs then, watercolor yellow and orange joy dripping over the phone line. It’s bright and hopeful—you listen to him shrugging on a jacket and swearing out a curse when he runs into his dresser, rushing to get to you, scrambling for time—and it makes you decide that for once, with him by your side, you might finish the picture.

[seoltzuki]

Sorbet

sana x afab reader

angst, smut, (don’t steal, repost, translate)

lust, carnal, touch, cycle, it never ends…

Tonight will be the last time.

The routine remains unchanged. Every night, Sana needs you. Your presence is her anchor during her lonely evenings. This is the only time you visit her place; otherwise, she spends her days at yours.

Life feels lighter during the day, especially with the brightness you bring, filling every moment with warmth and ease.

It's a pattern, like a line tracing a circle, unbroken and predictable.

She doesn't need to call.

It's the same routine, a line tracing a circle. 

You enter her apartment and head to her bedroom. The door is slightly ajar, the lights off, but it doesn't matter. It's just late enough for the sky to be a deep navy blue, with white-yellow hues piercing through the clouds. The familiar creak of the floorboards, the soft rustle of curtains, and the faint scent of her perfume guide you. You slip inside, knowing exactly where she'll be, waiting for you in the comforting shadows.

And there she stands.

Leaning against her sturdy vanity, the glow of city lights streaming through the expansive windows, a single manicured nail between her teeth.

She looks vulnerable yet undeniably pretty, her damp hair hinting at recent time spent under the shower's spray. Despite the late hour, she's adorned in a charming dress and subtle makeup.

You've reassured her multiple times that dressing up wasn’t necessary for your visits, especially at such a late hour.

The day is over, why bother?

But she’d always persist, expressing her desire to always present her best self for you, regardless of the time, even if she had previously washed the day away.

"Sana," you murmur, drawing her attention away from the cityscape, her gaze shifting from the skyline to meet yours.

A faint twitch plays on her lips as you both remain still, simply absorbing each other’s presence.

Tonight will be the last time.

You approach her until you're face to face, her sparkling eyes fixed on you.

She begins with her hand, the nail slipping out from between her teeth. Cupping your jaw, she exhales softly, her lips pursed before she gazes out the window once more, her perfect profile coming into view. You notice the sharpness of her nose and the plumpness of her upper lip, teased by her tongue. Her thumb glides gently across your cheek as another sigh escapes her, her eyes now glassy as she looks back at you.

Not wanting to witness her unshed tears, you lean in until your noses touch, your breath mingling with hers. You wrap your arm around her waist, and her other arm loops around your neck, drawing you closer.

She’s the one who initiates the kiss, her lips gently interlocking with yours, the touch so tender, so deliberate.

Her hand lingers on your cheek, her touch soft and reassuring, while the other finds its place on the back of your neck, pulling you closer, as if trying to bridge any distance that might remain between you.

It’s unhurried and slow. Like it’s always been between you two.

There’s never a rush, since it never ends.

Another kiss follows, lingering and sweet, before she playfully teases your lower lip with a teasing lick before parting from you. Her lipstick is already smudged, but she looks so incredibly beautiful.

A soft whine escapes her lips as you squeeze her waist, a silent plea for more. Slowly, she begins to undress you, her movements gentle. With careful hands, she removes your shirt and pants, leaving you standing in your undergarments, vulnerable yet utterly desired in her eyes.

She leans back against the vanity to recompose herself, her breath uneven. It's crazy how much you affect her, how a simple kiss and the sight of your nearly bare body leaves her dizzy with want. She eyes you up and down with a tilted head, a small pout on her lips.

You say her name again, reaching out for her hand. She takes it willingly, pressing a tender kiss to its palm before meeting your gaze.

“Switch. I want you to lean on the vanity,” she whispers, her voice barely above a breath, but commanding.

You do as she says, turning to lean against the vanity, the cool wood pressing against your skin. Sana steps closer, her eyes never leaving yours. She runs her hands down your shoulders and along your arms, sending shivers through you. Her touch is light, teasing, making you crave more.

Her fingers brush against the necklace you wear, a simple chain with an old promise ring hanging from it—the ring she gave you long ago. She doesn’t comment on it, but her fingers linger, playing with the ring, the gesture filled with unspoken emotion.

Then, they trace down your chest, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. She pauses at your waistband, her eyes locking with yours once more, silently asking for permission.

When you nod, she slowly peels away your undergarments, her hands steady and sure. The air feels electric between you, each movement filled with anticipation. Once you’re completely bare, she steps back slightly, admiring you with an intense gaze.

“Stay just like that,” she breathes. Her lips brush against your collarbone, trailing along your skin. Her hands roam your body, exploring every curve, while her kisses become more insistent, more demanding.

There's nowhere else to be now; you let everything else melt away. Her fingers still playing with the promise ring, she sinks to her knees, her eyes never leaving yours.

Her eyes…

They’re locked onto yours with an intensity that makes your heart race. She takes her time, her hands gently parting your thighs, her touch both reverent and possessive. Her breath is hot against your skin, and you can feel the waves rushing in.

She always insists on being the first to bring you pleasure, relishing in the way your body reacts to her, savoring the way you come undone beneath her touch.

Your taste, your sounds, the way you feel… gosh, she drips for you.

But it’s not just about the physical connection for her; it’s about holding onto the moment, controlling the narrative so her own thoughts don’t consume her.

She begins with a soft kiss, just above your most sensitive area, her lips brushing lightly against your skin. She moves slowly, her kisses deliberate and teasing, each one sending a ripple of pleasure through you. Her tongue follows, a slow, sensual lick that makes you gasp, the sensation both electrifying and maddening.

Sana takes her time, savoring every moment. Her tongue moves with exquisite slowness, tracing patterns that drive you wild. She alternates between gentle, teasing flicks and deeper, more insistent strokes, her mouth working you with a carnal hunger that leaves you breathless. She moans softly against you, the vibrations adding another layer of pleasure.

Her hands are not idle; they grip your hips firmly, holding you in place as she devours you. Her fingers occasionally dig into your flesh, a reminder of her control, of the pleasure she’s giving and withholding in equal measure. She moves with a rhythm that is both patient and relentless, drawing out your pleasure precision.

Your moans fill the room, mingling with the sounds of her mouth on you. Each touch, each lick, is designed to bring you closer to the edge, and she never lets up, never rushes, savoring your reactions, feeding off your pleasure.

She takes you to the brink and holds you there, drawing out your pleasure, making every second feel endless.

Her eyes flick up to meet yours, and you see the raw desire in them. When you finally can’t hold back any longer, she takes you over the edge with a slow, sensual suck, her tongue never stopping its dance.

It’s like an explosion, every nerve ending alight with sensation. Sana still doesn’t stop, her tongue and lips working you through your climax, prolonging your pleasure until you’re trembling over her. She slows only when you do, her movements becoming tender, soothing, as you come down from the high.

A teasing flick of her tongue on your clit makes you finally look down at her. She lingers, placing soft kisses on your trembling skin. Her eyes are dark with satisfaction, her lips glistening. She moves back up your body, her hands and lips trailing a path until she pushes her face into your neck, pulling you into a warm embrace.

Her own breath is heavy, the fabric of her dress scratching against your bare chest. You can feel her satisfaction, the way she revels in your release; her hands still caressing your sides, nails barely even digging into you….

She savors the moment, knowing it will help her find peace, if only for a little while.

“You always taste so good,” she breathes against your skin. “You’re just… so good, so perfect…” Her words trail off into a low moan, the intensity of her longing evident in every syllable.

Sana brings her fingers to you, gently gathering your arousal before slowly bringing them to your lips. Her eyes lock onto yours, intense and filled with a mix of lust and affection. She leans in, her breath hot against your skin as she watches your reaction closely.

“Go on,” she whispers, her voice barely above a breath. “Taste yourself.”

You part your lips, letting her fingers slip inside. The taste of yourself mingles with the remnants of her touch, and the intimacy of the act sends another wave of heat through your body. Sana’s eyes darken, a small, knowing smile playing on her lips.

“See? So good,” she breathes, leaning in to capture your lips in a deep, languid kiss, sharing the taste between you. The kiss is slow, unhurried, a melding of tongues and lips.

As she pulls away, she continues to gaze at you with that same intense look, her fingers still resting lightly against your lips. “You’re perfect,” she repeats, her voice filled with sincerity and a hint of awe.

“I wanna go again,” she murmurs against your lips, her voice laced with longing, her teeth grazing your lower lip. “Please, I can’t get enough of you.”

She knows that by extending the night, she can have you for a little while longer. And if she’s the last to climax, sleep will come easier, shielding her from her own thoughts and the bittersweet sight of you leaving in the early morning light.

“After I get to make you feel good,” you say softly, voice promising, as you lean in closer. “I know you’re aching.”

Sana’s eyes meet yours, filled with a mixture of need and something else. She gently takes your hand, guiding you towards the bed. Instead of lying down together, she gives you a gentle push, urging you to recline on the bed. You settle back, propped up on your elbows, watching her intently.

With a slow, deliberate motion, Sana reaches behind her to unzip her dress. The fabric slips down her shoulders, revealing more of her smooth, bare skin. She maintains eye contact, her gaze smoldering with desire as she peels the dress away, inch by tantalizing inch. The dress pools at her feet, leaving her in nothing but her lingerie, which she soon discards as well.

You can hardly breathe as you take in the sight of her, every curve, every line of her body illuminated in the soft light of the sky. Sana steps closer, her movements slow and sensual, crawling onto the bed to straddle your lap. Her hands move to your waist, fingers tracing the curve of your hips as she positions you comfortably beneath her.

“I want to make you feel just as good,” you murmur, your lips brushing against her ear, sending shivers down her spine. “Let me take care of you.”

She leans in, her lips capturing yours in a slow, passionate kiss. She arches into you, her breath hitching as your touch becomes more insistent, your desire to bring her pleasure driving you forward.

You flip over and hover over Sana, holding your weight on your arms as you watch her, her cheeks flushed and lips swollen from your kisses. She gazes up at you with the same intensity. Her hands caress your back, her touch sending shivers down your spine.

Her eyes drift to the dangling necklace between you two, the old promise ring catching the light. Something unknown flashes in her eyes, but it quickly transforms into something carnal. She leans up, her nails digging into your back, and wraps her teeth around the ring, gently tugging it with a smirk.

The sight sends a rush of heat through you, and you lower yourself just enough to brush your lips against hers, teasingly slow. Her breath hitches, and she releases the ring, her hands trailing up to cradle your face as she pulls you into a deeper kiss, her body arching into yours.

You both roll your hips into each other, the friction between you spreading wetness and igniting a fire that burns hotter with each movement. Sana’s breath becomes shallow as she grinds against you, her desire evident in the way she responds to your touch.

Suddenly, she flips you over again, her movements fluid and confident. She straddles your lap, her body poised above yours as she looks down at you with a hunger in her eyes.

With a sultry smile, Sana takes one of your hands and brings your fingers to her lips, sucking them into her mouth with a slow, deliberate motion. You watch, captivated, as she swirls her tongue around your fingers, each flick sending jolts of pleasure coursing through you. Her eyes never leave yours, dark pools of desire that draw you in deeper with each passing moment.

The sensation of her mouth on your fingers is electrifying, as she takes you deeper into her mouth.

With each movement, each caress of her tongue, you feel yourself growing more aroused, the desire pooling low in your belly. You can’t tear your eyes away from her, mesmerized by the way she devours you with such passion and intensity.

As she releases your fingers with a soft pop, a wicked glint dances in her eyes. “God, I want your fingers inside me,” she huffs. “Please, baby.”

Her words ignite a fire within you, and without hesitation, your hands roam over her body, caressing every inch of her skin as you bring your lips to her chest, kissing and teasing her nipples with your tongue.

Sana moans softly, her breath hitching as your fingers trail down between her thighs, feeling the wetness that awaits you. You slide your fingers inside her, feeling her slick walls tighten around you, welcoming you with a delicious heat.

She gasps, her hips beginning to roll against your hand, matching the rhythm of your movements. “Yes, that’s it!” she whines. “Make me feel good.”

You suck gently on her nipples, your tongue flicking against the sensitive buds as you continue to move your fingers within her. Sana’s moans grow louder, her body trembling with pleasure as she rides your fingers, each thrust driving her closer to the edge of ecstasy.

Her hands clutch at your shoulders, nails digging into your skin as she loses herself in the sensations you’re giving her. “Oh, god,” she breathes, her eyes fluttering shut as she surrenders to the pleasure coursing through her. “Don’t stop, baby. Don’t stop.”

In her ecstasy, Sana reaches down and grabs onto the necklace hanging between you, pulling it taut. The ring dangles between your faces.

She tugs on it, bringing your lips closer to hers. “This… this means you should be mine,” she cries, her voice edged with a desperate plea.

You feel her tightening around your fingers, her release drawing near. With each stroke, you push her closer to the edge, her body shuddering in your arms.

Her hips move with an urgent rhythm, grinding against your hand, desperate for more. You add another finger, stretching her, filling her, making her moan even louder. “Yes, yes,” she pants, her eyes locked onto yours with a mix of love and lust.

“Rock with me. I won’t let go,” you murmur, reassuringly.

Sana’s breath catches, her hands find your shoulders, her grip tightening as she leans into you, her hips switching to a slow, rhythmic dance. “I need you,” she sobs. “I need you so much.”

I don’t want this night to be the last time, y/n.

Your free hand trails up her back, pulling her even closer as you feel the pressure building within her. Her wetness coats your fingers, each thrust bringing her closer to the edge. You can feel the urgency in her movements, the way she grinds against you, desperate for release.

With a breathless whimper, Sana tugs on the necklace again, the chain pressing into your skin as she pulls you nearer. The sensation drives you wild, a physical reminder of the hold she has on you.

“Don’t stop, oh my god,” she pleads, her voice breaking with emotion. “Please, don’t stop.”

You respond by quickening the pace, your fingers moving faster within her as you continue to kiss and suckle at her breasts. Her moans grow louder, her body trembling with the intensity of her impending climax.

“Let go for me, my angel,” you whisper, teeth sinking into her skin.

With a final, shuddering gasp, Sana’s body tenses, her release crashing over her in waves. She clings to you, her nails digging into your shoulders as she rides out the pleasure, her cries filling the room.

As she nestles into you, her breathing slowing, you feel a deep sense of satisfaction and guilt. “I won’t let go,” you repeat softly, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead, savoring the closeness and the warmth of her body against yours.

You feel her grip on the necklace tighten, her fingers lingering on the ring. “I know you’ll leave in the morning,” she whispers, a tremor in her voice. “You always do.”

You swallow hard, the familiar pang of sadness gnawing at your heart. “Sana…”

“Don’t,” she interrupts, her voice growing softer, eyes heavy with exhaustion. “Just stay with me tonight. Let’s pretend everything is perfect, just for a few more hours.”

You nod, pulling her closer, feeling her body relax against you. Her breathing becomes more even, her eyes fluttering shut as she drifts off to sleep mid-sentence. “I love you,” she murmurs, barely audible, before sleep takes her completely.

You hold her tight, the weight of her words settling over you like a blanket. The room is silent except for her soft, steady breathing. You know the morning light will bring reality crashing back down, the cycle continuing, the line drawing a circle, and the pain of parting will return.

If she truly wanted to break the cycle, she would invite you over during the day, saving your pleasure for last.

She would love you the way she’s supposed to.

Tonight was never gonna be the last night.

[chastiefoul]

“i’d like to see me from your point of view.”

you in their pov. ft. wriothesley and xiao

wriothesley

wriothesley really thought he’s a man of patience and will, but when he was sitting on his office with no work done, his thoughts wondering whether you’ll visit him or not that day proved that maybe he’s just being an overconfident fool.

when your long-awaited sweet voice called him as you went up the stairs he couldn’t stand up and meet you at the last step any faster.

has he ever told you that you had the most beautiful smile? especially when the reason behind it was you’re just as excited to meet him.

since when the sight of someone sitting at his office brought him this much joy? also, he was never one to mind about furnitures and room decorations, yet looking at you there made him start to think. was the couch comfortable enough? do you like the height of the table? any colors you prefer for the decorations? was there something you dislike? say the words and wriothesley will get it changed in less than a day. all to keep you there a moment longer.

listening to your gentle chatters as the day slowly passed, wriothesley couldn’t believe he could get that lucky in life. an easy smile on his face as he stared at you, sometimes forgetting that he had to actually reply and not just stare at you in amazement.

wriothesley is just a man, a man of power sure. but for you he wants to be something more, everything you need him to be. damn it, he wanted to give everything that he is to you and if he didn’t have what you want? that you better believe he would build and make it.

as the day reached it end and when you left, wriothesley realized that his beloved cup of tea that he always drank until the last possible sip has remained untouched.

xiao

a feeling so soft and lovely, he never thought he was worthy of it. worthy of you.

yet he learned to stop thinking that after seeing you be so mad when he said that out loud.

for a yaksha who lived through 2000 years, he did not want to be associated with words such as naive and gullible. however if someone were to ask him to define love, his answer would be you. without a doubt.

he could’ve never known if it wasn’t for you that turns out the safest and warmest place in teyvat come in a form of your hold. your two arms that felt like a blanket, engulfing him with all the unfamiliar yet pleasant feelings.

your soft touch and gentle caresses. gestures you did as if he was a precious thing. did you know he just relentlessly killed every monsters and foes he could find? you did, but that never stopped you.

it’s unexplainable, it’s confusing, it’s strange. for someone who lived through a war and handling karmic debts on a daily basis, how could it be that he only took one look at you and everything would feel okay?

xiao who never believed in such childish concept such as fate and destiny, but if they’re really real, could he be selfish this once and ask for a meeting with you in his next lifetime?

[penny-for-thots]

Hello!! Can I request how the wind breaker boys if it’s too many just suo is fine on how they would react if someone hurts their s/o in front of them? Thank you

[!] THE AUDACITY?!

ⓘ THE AUDACITY TO HURT YOU INFRONT OF THEM!? gn!reader — fluff, hurt/comfort-ish, the writer laughed making this. includes. sakura, suo, umemiya, togame, + choji. (formatting this a bit different bc some have the same reaction, lmk if u want it differently).

"BEAT HIS ASS, BRO!" or, HE SWINGS IMMEDIATELY. no disregard for where you are. if its something like a serious fight, or someone ganging up on you, something of that sort. there's a kick that swings through the air before anyone can react. he might throw them, or finish the job before turning to you.

SAKURA simply throws them away from you after kicking them hard asf. he's about to continue, but he stops when he sees you in his peripheral vision and turns to you with worried eyes, nervously reaching for you, yet stopping because he as zero idea what to do or how to comfort you. he gulps and carefully touches your face, looking at your body to see if your hurt anywhere. he's shaking like a leaf, hoping you're alright.

CHOJI finishs the job. that person is done for, beat up, knocked out, just- incapacitated before he scurries over to you and bends down. his knuckles bloodied as he cups your face and looks you with worried eyes. "you're okay right?" he'll likely call the first person closest to him that he's familiar with to come help him and make sure you're alright.

CONT. that's if its a man. if its a woman swinging at you, sakura has restraint. he'll nervously push her away and yell at her for hitting you, horribly solving the problem. but he tries. choji, "equal rights, equal fights." i am so sorry, but i genuinely cannot see him as someone that holds back from a fight because of gender. especially, because the girl swung first. regardless, he (both) immediately checks on you when its over, acting smothering and cautious because he cannot have you hurt.

"ARE YOU OKAY?!" or, HE CHECKS ON YOU IMMEDIATELY. this man is immediately locked in on you. he rushes over to you, making sure you're alright, safe, and sound. he's calm, though, he can't hide his overwhelming worry for you. he's picking at you, lifting your face, lifting your arms, looking at your legs, making sure you can stand. he debates bringing you to the doctor as his worried eyes double scan you. he's not one to start nor continue unnecessary fights, so he tries to get you out of the situation as quickly as he can. if the other person is combative he tries to put the fight to rest with words.

SUO's calm demeanor can rub off on people different ways. he's normally good at reigning in his feelings during times like these, though if a bit of condescension or anger slips through, he couldn't help it. harming his s/o? in front of him? his tone can either come off as intended, calming and non-combatitve, more than likely leading to the end of whatever argument. or, his tone can come off as condescending which leads to the argument progressing. at this point, he's now using backhanded insults, other sly words, and intimidation tactics. if absolutely necessary, he'll fight. and embarrass said person.

UMEMIYA is trying his hardest not to fight. he deems it unnecessary, and he needs to leave with you and make sure your alright. he tries to de-escalate the situation. keyword tries. if he's not serious, he playful demeanor can be agitating. if he is serious, it's much easier. he gets the person to back off and he immediately scoops you up, he's carrying you bridal style, he does not need to.

CONT. that's if its a man. if it's women, neither of them are laying hands, regardless. its more likely that they would push her away and try to walk off and the townsfolk recognizes them and comes to help. that's if its outside/in public. otherwise, both of them are running away lmfao.

"ARE YOU OKAY?!" to "BEAT HIS ASS, BRO!" or, SELF EXPLANITORY. his first priority is you. it's always you. seeing someone hurt you, hit you, in public, in front of him? he's not having that. but he bends down first, carefully observing you and talking to you, making sure you're okay, then he'll handle whatever asshole hurt you.

TOGAME bends down, cupping your face with his calloused hands softly, "you alright, baby?" his eyes scan you, dusting you off and sliding his hands along you to make sure your fine. after double checking with you, he immediately swings. that's it. he's beating ass once you're okay. that person will understand and then he will quietly turn to you and help you up or whatever and leave with you. ;p

CONT. if it's a woman, he's not going to do anything, really. he'll like- give her a stank face or something. insults are a definite, but he's not laying hands. he might raise his voice but like, yeah he's tapping out and leaving.

a/n: sorry if this was bad lmfao