#clasps hands together real tight

[tunnelsnacks]

I went and drew a fake comic cover for Hesitation which can be read here if anyone's interested! Its a rewritten version of one I had up a few years ago where [redacted] gets [redacted]

[cloud-somersault]

HAHAHAHAHAHA THANKS FOR OVER 700 KUDOS ON CONSTELLATIONS HAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAA AAAAHHAHAHAHA

[muniimyg]

6.5: baby 》 series m.list

note: oh my gawd ,, my friends !!! i’m so sorry for the wait! i was in my finals szn & tryna figure things out w my courses for my next sem … meanwhile ,, this entire ch has been brewing and consuming my mind like crazy! hope u guys enj ,, pls pls pls lmk what u guys think !!! i’m so glad i can finally push this ch out so lets fcking tawk abt it 😫

warnings: making out, mini fingering moment, raw sex, grinding, thigh humping ? ass slapping, pussy eating, 69, doggy style, cum shots & filming / sex tape vibes……… dirty talk / name calling <3 lol !!!

taglist request: send a request with the title of this fic “c2u” // DO NOT comment here or on the masterlist . it gets confusing and i prefer answering and tagging through asks !!!

🏷️ permanent taglist: @joonsjuice @taetaecatboy @pb-n-juju @miss-rainy-days @firesighgirl @whoa-jo @vantxx95 @pamzn @kakixaku @casspirit0705 @tae165 @defzcl @sopebubbles @leefics @ggukkieland @bebebutbetter @yoongimentita7 @boraength @era-genius @4ksj @vampcharxter @miss-jupiter @floweryjeons @taegijns @jeonqkooks-main

fic taglist: @mint--yoongs @ellesalazar @bloopkook

//

Jungkook was afraid of this. 

From the moment he first made you laugh—oh, he knew he was fucked. Something inside him twisted and turned until his mind found ease from your very touch. Then, suddenly and all at once, every fiber in his body surrendered. Though he didn’t do the best job, he still tried. He tried his best to resist you and the feelings his heart felt. As his heart found rest with yours—it was then he realized that it was no use.

He was addicted to you. 

It’s like he’s a child all over again, tasting his favourite chocolate bar for the first time. It’s like he’s a timid high schooler trying weed and getting so high, that he’s already making plans to do this again tomorrow. Or, it’s like he’s a man falling in love for the first time. 

For real. 

No bullshit, just the plain and boring truth. No, he wasn’t only addicted to you… Jungkook is falling in love with—

“Cute room.” You step into his room and shut the door behind you. The room is dim, only lit with his warm lamp light and a few candles placed around. It looked romantic and for some reason, it did not scare you. If anything, it entices you. 

He was so thoughtful. 

Before you can look around any further, you feel Jungkook’s body embrace yours. He wraps himself around you, holding you tight by your waist and digging his face into the crook of your neck. He kisses you behind your ear, causing you to giggle from the ticklish feeling. At this moment, you take in the scent of his freshly washed hair.

Is it odd to say this has to be one of your favourite scents? You’ve grown to like it. If anything, you can’t help but feel a little disappointed when you see him and his hair isn’t a little damp. Something about him being freshly showered makes your heart race. His damp hair is a symbol of his priorities… And that priority is you. Not to mention, wet hair has got to be the most romantic look any boy could have… You’ve always told yourself that as a child. Now, here you are: standing in a room with a damp-haired boy clinging to you. 

Nothing makes you happier than this. 

“I think Yuna saw me—mmfphh,” your words are interrupted by Jungkook’s lips. He greets you with a peck before continuing to kiss you like it’s his last dying wish. 

His hands find their way to your hair, cupping your jaw as you kiss him back. Your lips sync together as if it’s been a lifetime since you two last did this.

Only it wasn’t—it hasn’t been.

It feels like it though. 

“Miss me much?” you ask, breaking away from the intense kiss. He leans his forehead against yours, wasting no time and letting his hands travel inside your shirt. You feel his fingers trace over your bra, quickly finding the clasp and undoing it with his one hand.

Impressive, you must admit.

Should you be mad at that? 

Jungkook smirks, “fuck around and find out.”

A small laugh escapes your lips as you raise your arms. He lifts your shirt over your head, leaving your top exposed. Your bra is barely hanging on and Jungkook can’t keep his eyes off your breasts. 

“How about a hi first?”

“Hi ___,” he obliges. Then, he taps his fingers together, bringing them close to his lips. Like a menace, he grins. “Well, well, well… What do we have here?” 

Playfully, you roll your eyes at him and respond by taking the bra off yourself. You fling it at his face, just enough for it to land perfectly on top of his hair. One cup covers his face and he takes a breath in. 

“Smells like you.”

“Smells like my boob sweat, you pervert.”

He takes the bra off from his face and licks his lips at the sight of your bare chest. “I can keep it in my pants… You on the other hand… A few nights ago? Drunk? You were coming on to me. Hard.”

You huff. “I was drunk.”

“You also said you’d hold my hand… Without arguing with me.”

“What? That doesn’t count. I was drunk.” Your words come out fast. It almost sounds defensive and harsh. “Jungkook, I was drunk.”

“Oh, I know.” He shrugs, taking the high road. “No need to be so uptight about it. It’s okay to hold hands, you know? The same way it’s okay to be obsessed with me, baby… This is a safe space.” 

The audacity! More than that, you wince at the pet name. “Who the fuck is baby?”

Jungkook ignores your question and takes a step closer to you. As he does so, he takes his shirt off. He then tosses his shirt to the side of his room where his laundry hamper is. As you turn your attention back to him, your eyes fall on his pelvis area as he begins to undo his pants. Then, he pauses when he notices your gaze. 

“Do it for me.”

You raise a brow. 

“Pardon?”

“Take my pants off,” he points at the floor. “Get on your knees and take my pants off.”

For a split second, you hesitate. Earlier tonight, as you made your way over, you thought about what kind of mood he must’ve been in. You’ve seen Jungkook happy, irritated, tired, and even hangry… But horny in a needy and demanding way? Boarder-line desperate? Never. His doe eyes and goofy attitude can’t fool you… You’ve wondered about this. 

You’ve waited for this side of him. 

Perhaps it was your curiosity that answered for you because, without breaking eye contact, you fell to your knees. Jungkook’s gaze lowers as you bring your hands to his crotch. You palm him, feeling his cock and gulping at how hard it already was. Faintly, you hear him snicker at your submissiveness. 

He likes this. 

Slowly, you undo his pants and tug them down. In his Calvins, his raging boner greets you. Just as you slip your thumbs in between the fabric to pull them down, Jungkook grabs your wrists and pulls you to stand up. You follow his lead, confused. 

“I thought I was going to—”

Jungkook undoes your cargo pants buttons and tugs them down. He gives you no warning as he licks his thumb and slips his hand inside your panties. You feel his wet thumb rubbing your clit. Your breath hitches as he draws circles and then adds another finger into the mix. He deepens his rubbing, slowly but surely dragging his fingers around your folds. Jungkook then shifts his hand placement, quickly inserting a finger inside of you. The shock sends shivers down your spine and completely takes your focus. He adds another finger and it earns a lewd moan from you. 

“Ooh my god—”

Then, he stops. 

He takes his fingers out and examines the wetness. Your eyebrows furrow together, completely unsure of the pace he’s going at. How long would this last? Why couldn’t he just continue?

“Sorry, were you enjoying that?” Jungkook asks innocently.

It’s official: you hate him.

Dumbfounded, you shoot him a glare. “Maybe I was. Who knows? I wasn’t finished.”

Jungkook exchanges with laughter. “Finished? Five minutes in? Pookie, you give me way too much credit.”

You stick your tongue out at him, annoyed at how cocky he is. Truth be told, this suited him. The nasty comments and the edging… It feels like this should’ve happened before. It’s hard to explain but he just looks so comfortable with control. In a more unexplainable way—you can’t help but feel comfortable with it.

“Come on,” he nods towards the bed. “If you wanna finish, you should do it sitting on my face.”

His words make your tummy flip. Was he serious? The texts he sent prior to this.. You were so sure it was all talk. The most you expected was a quickie and a few nasty exchanges… But this? You don’t know what to think.

Jungkook lays on his bed first, gesturing you to follow. 

“Are you serious?”

With a flat tone, he answers: “Why would I joke about this?”

To be completely honest, he was a little offended you weren’t taking him seriously. Of course, he’s serious about eating you out. This was no joke to him.

Crossing your arms, you look at him in disbelief. “You want to do everything you texted me? Jungkook, there are people downstairs. Our friends are downstairs and—”

“I know,” he groans. “That’s why you need to shut the fuck up and sit on my face already. The longer we take, the more they will wonder where you are. Didn’t you say Yuna saw you come up here?”

“Y-yeah,” you recall. “Maybe we shouldn’t—”

He hits his bed with his fist like a child. “Why do you always deprive me?”

You gasp at his dramatic question. “Deprive you? It’s just my body, Jungkook. Do you crave pussy this bad?”

Tilting his head, he looks at you softly. “You,” he breathes. “I crave you.”

A silence falls between you two, followed by a heavy sigh. 

“Look, I’m never going to make you do things with me if you don’t want to. I’m only demanding tonight because I just—I really need you right now. If you want to go downstairs and find Yuna, go ahead. We can do this another time… I just thought you missed me just as much as I missed you.”

“Gaslighter.”

He chuckles, attempting to hide the smile on his face as you get on the bed. Moving closer to him, he watches your hands roam from his abdomen to his jaw. Placing chante kisses on him, he stutters his words. “I’m s-serious. It’s fine. It’s just pussy.”

“But it’s my pussy.”

“True,” Jungkook agrees, leaning back and watching you place yourself on his thigh. “So fucking true, pookie.”

You lean in to kiss him. His lips chase yours when you pull away, only to grind your hips. He feels your wet pussy on his thigh and he feels like he could choke on air. It’s torture watching you throw your head back at the sensation. You can’t help but embrace the feeling of relief.

“You’re not finishing on my thigh,” he mutters, placing his hands on your waist. He lifts you just enough for you to get off. Laughing, he squiggles down the bed so you have more space. Before you know it, you’re making yourself comfortable on his face. As you straddle yourself on, you make a confession.

“W-wait, I’m scared! I don’t want to suffocate you—”

“Shut the fuck up.” Jungkook snaps, unable to watch his tone. “This is literally all I’ve ever wanted so you need to shut the fuck up and let me have this.”

“Okay, okay,” you snicker lightly, as you sink into his face. “But seriously! I don’t want to crush—“

You don’t even finish your sentence. You’re cut off by the feeling of Jungkook’s hot breath against your pussy. Then, you feel his nose against your clit and the texture of his tongue brush against your folds. The feeling shocks you, causing you to lift yourself out of reflex. Just as quickly, Jungkook wraps his arms around your thighs and holds you to stay. 

“J-Jungkook, I can’t—”

“Yes, you can. You can and you will, got it?” he hisses. “Hold the fucking headboard if you need to. You aren’t going anywhere until your cum is on my tongue.”

You do as he says.

You lean forward, grabbing a hold of his headboard for support. 

Just as those thoughts immerse your mind, you feel him dragging his tongue across your folds. It begins slow and soft. It feels like kitten licks and if the word cute was a feeling… This was it. Then, he flicks his tongue and it’s everything but cute from here on out. You want to jolt, but you keep what Jungkook said to you in mind. Besides, there is no place in the world you would rather be at than here. Jungkook eats you out like he’s a starved man. He doesn’t miss an inch of your pussy and tightens his grip around your thighs each time your body twitches. 

Biting your bottom lip, you hold in your moan. 

He feels so good. His tongue against your wet pussy feels so fucking good—it’s almost comical how you were so hesitant to do this. Soon enough, you let go of the headboard and search for his hands. Like second nature, you and Jungkook intertwine your fingers together and finally, you close your eyes and give in. 

You can have this.

You can have him.

“Y-you feel so good,” you confess shyly. “You make me feel so good.”

Jungkook smiles against your pussy as you begin to roll your hips against his face. He knew it would take some time, but you’d eventually come around. No pun intended. 

“C-close,” you utter in between heavy exhales. “Jungkook—I’m close! Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!”

You hold his hand tighter and push your weight on him harder. You feel him quicken the pace as he licks you and—holy shit.

Are those stars?

You cum.

Messy, wet, and hard. 

Jungkook moans against your pussy, taking a moment to bite your inner thigh. Your legs practically shake, causing you to completely rest your weight on his face. After a few moments, you gather whatever energy you have left and shift your position. You turn your body around and line yourself with his cock. Jungkook stretches his neck out to figure out what you’re doing. Before he can comment, your lips are already placing kisses on his dick. Your fingers dig into his Calvins and pull them off. 

“W-what are you doing?” He asks, voice shaking from anticipation. He wasn’t an idiot. He knew what you were doing—he just couldn’t believe it. He’s so fucking lucky. 

“34 plus 35! Do the math,” you tease. “Keep it up, okay?”

Jungkook laughs, pinching your ass in response. “Keep up with me then.”

“Is that a challenge?”

He rubs the spot he pinched your ass and shakes his head. “I already have one point… Doubt you’re gonna catch up.”

“You could nut twice,” you suggest. Then you turn your head and shake your ass in his face. “For me? So we’re even.”

Jungkook bites his lips. “Then it wouldn’t be a completion.”

“I hate losing.”

“So do I.” Jungkook then wastes no time. He digs himself in you again, flicking his tongue at all the right times and places. 

You groan, hating how much you love this. You try to focus. After pumping him a few times, you stuff his cock in your mouth. Moaning from how thick he is, you suck him off. Your cheeks begin to feel a little sore after a few minutes, but by then his dick is up. He’s as hard as can be and you can even feel his veins come out more and more. Every time you pull his cock out, you make sure to be as loud as you can. The pop sound makes Jungkook’s blood rush to his dick and the way you suck him so sloppy and hard only reminds him of the time you did this in his car. That night, Jungkook had never felt more attracted to you. 

Your jealousy had consumed his every thought for days after. 

Just like that, Jungkook’s stomach twitches. He feels a rush and it goes straight from his dick and out.

Like a loser, Jungkook cums and whimpers loudly. 

“F-fuck yes. Holy shit, ___.. Just like that… Mhmm,” his breath hitches. “Fuck!”

Lips pressed against his dick, you let his cum spill on your face. Mostly, it hits your nose bridge and your upper lip. You shift off of Jungkook and kneel in front of him. He gulps, watching you with longing eyes. You stick your tongue out, bring your fingers to where his cum landed and taste it. You lick your lips and swallow with a cute moan. 

“Yummy.”

He hisses, and immediately takes you by the waist. You giggle, unable to stop it from becoming a laugh. “Did that turn you on, pookie?”

Jungkook glares at you, swiping a bit of his cum with his thumb. Without warning, he then shoves his thumb into your mouth. As you suck, he cups the rest of his hand around your jaw and ravishes at your beauty. 

A layer of sweat makes you shine, and the strands of your hair on your forehead never made you look so beautiful to him before. Your lips are perfect—puffy and tainted with his cum. Your eyes—god, your eyes… They’re smiling at him and he swears he has never felt his heart flutter like this ever. 

As you sit on top of his dick, you roll your hips against it. When you do this, both of you watch it happen. You lean back, planting your hands on each side of his legs. Jungkook watches as your folds drag and split open against his cock. You can’t help but let out hitched breathes as you take in the feeling of his member. How his veins feel against you. How his soft skin feels as you soak it with your wetness.. All of it. 

All of him. 

“You like that, hmm? You like grinding on my cock with your pussy all wet?” He pries, turning up his dirty talk. “Come on, baby… You know how I like it, right? Why don’t you be a good girl and put it in? Sink into it like the little cockslut you are… For me?”

You moan, hissing his name. “Jungkook, shut the fuck up. Just enjoy this.”

As punishment, you rub yourself on him harder. Each roll of your hips has more pressure and his dick feels like it’s going to explore. He watches, hating you more and more as his head turns red. You hump his cock, moaning at the sensation.

“Holy shit,” Jungkook whines. “I’m not gonna last even if you ride me.”

“Loser.”

He chuckles, too lazy to put up a fight. “Let’s go doggy, please.”

You think about it. “Beg for it.”

“Very funny.” Jungkook doesn’t wait for your response. He tosses you over and gets on his knees. You arch your back and get taken aback when Jungkook swiftly places a pillow under your stomach. You turn back to give him a confused look. 

“You might cramp.” 

Huffing, you bite back. “I won’t cramp. You’re gonna nut before I cramp.”

He rolls his eyes at you and tells you to shut up. You bite your bottom lip, even more excited and eager to feel him. Doggy style isn’t your favourite… But for some reason, it feels hot. Doing this with Jungkook makes your mind spin and you aren’t sure if your playful remarks are masking how nervous you are. Underneath your teasing, you have no idea how you’re doing or saying any of these things. How are you even doing this with him right now? It’s fucking wild. 

“Gonna put it in now,” Jungkook’s voice sounds a little parched at this point. “If you cream my dick, can I film it?”

His question catches you by surprise.

“Your face wouldn’t be in it… And y-you don’t even have to say yes. I just… I miss you sometimes and I think about fucking you a lot so a video would be—”

“I trust you,” you say, flipping to face him. “Honestly? I’ll film a bit of it. Bet it’ll get you off in the future.” Then, you reach over his nightstand and swipe on his phone to the camera icon. You hold it and press record. Jungkook smirks and you zoom into his face. 

“Cute,” you laugh. 

Again, Jungkook rolls his eyes but loves every moment of this. You go back on all fours and hold the camera out. It captures half of your face, a bit of your boobs, and your ass. Jungkook places himself at your rear. You watch from the screen as Jungkook spits on his dick before he pushes himself inside you. He thrusts a few times before you let out a moan. 

You bite your lip for the camera and let a giggle escape in between Jungkook’s thrusts. His breathing gets heavy as he picks up the pace and fucks you harder. 

“J-Jungkook,” you whimper. 

“Louder,” he commands as he fucks you. You close your eyes, taking in how good he feels inside you. He’s throbbing. He’s so fucking big.

“Oh my god, Jungkook! Yes, yes, yes! Fuck me harder! Please, please, please!”

“Say my name,” Jungkook growls. “Say it louder.” 

“Fuck me,” you ignore his request. “You’re so big. I’m so fucking lucky. I love it. I love your cock so much!”

He slaps your ass. 

“Say my fucking name.” Jungkook pushes himself deeper into you, taking his time doing so. You hate how slow it feels now. “Whose making you feel this way? You’re so wet taking my cock in. Don’t be a bad girl… Are you a bad girl?”

“N-no,” you cry, feeling each thrust intensify.

“What are you then? My little slut? My fucking cock hungry slut? You won’t even say my name… You’re just a dirty bad girl. Fucking disrespectful at this point.”

“No, I’m not!” you feel tears begin to jerk in. “I love your cock too much to disrespect it—I,” you catch your breath, “I’m not a dirty bad girl!”

“What are you then? Because if you were a good girl, you’d say my fucking name… Say it. Be a good girl and say whose fucking cock you’re going to cream.”

“J-Jungkook!”

“Louder.” He pauses, leaving his cock to twitch inside you. 

“Please… Fuck me so good I cream your cock…”

“No. My name. Say my fucking name—”

“Oh my god, Jungkook!”

He smirks.  

Jungkook loves this so much. It does more than feed his ego—it ignites it.

He loves the way you say his name. He loves the way you call for him and how soft your tone gets when the sentence gets to his name. He absolutely fucking loves it.

“Yes, yes, yes!” you sob as he continues to fuck you. He fucks you rough, sloppy, and messy. You feel his dick slip in and out so easily that the friction is pure pleasure. 

“Jungkook, Jungkook, Jungkook,” you chant. “I’m not a good girl—I’m just…”

“You’re what?”

“I’m your girl,” you exhale. “R-right?”

Jungkook loses it. 

He fucking loses his mind.

Hastly, he leans over and grabs your tits. He fucks himself into you more and more, while biting your ear and kissing your neck. You moan and whimper, watching how hot it all looks on camera. Jungkook then rides his orgasm, not leaving you behind. He takes his phone from your hands and begins to film himself fucking you. The camera captures his dick going in and out of your pussy. How your ass bounces each time it hits his pelvis. It captures his breathy moans and his hushed, “fuck, fuck, fuck.” 

“J-Jungkook—I’m gonna cum! Oh my god, oh my god.”

And you do.

You cream his dick. As he pulls in and out of you, the camera catches your creamy release on his dick. 

It doesn’t take much after that. He isn’t sure if it’s just the heat of the moment or the fact that your brain is all fucked out by now—it doesn’t matter. The words that escaped your lips were enough. Jungkook cums hard and loud. He groans, hissing as he spills himself. You gasp when you feel his cock pull out of you harshly. Jungkook slips his one hand under you and flips you on your back. As you lay there, you watch as he pumps himself. He then aims his squirts of cum at your tits, and films as they land over your nipples. His breath is shakey from the relief and tiresome act and yours is the same. Except, you can’t help but let out a lewd giggle. 

Holy fuck, this was such a workout.

Like earlier, you take your finger and swipe some of his cum off your breast. Bringing it to your lips, you lick it and smile sweetly at him. He chuckles as he films it and you laugh. Really, you laugh for real. Then he laughs and offers you high-5. 

You laugh even harder, especially as you recall this being your reward. Even though it’s childish, you accept his gesture and feel special. Slamming your hand onto his, you lock them together and tug him towards you. He ends the recording just before he collapses on you. 

After all that, finally, you two share a kiss. 

A deep, soft, and much-needed kiss. 

The addiction to you was no different than an adrenaline junkie getting ready to jump off a cliff. No, there was no turning back. 

Your lips were addictive. The sweetness of everything your body would give him—it was like a fucking reward. Every saliva exchange, every drip from your pussy, to every tear shed while he digs himself deeper and deeper into you… He wants them all. 

As sick as it sounds, he’d lick it all up just to have you in him even more. Just to be close to you. Just to be closer. 

Every inch of you, he wants to devour. 

Like a starved man, he’d fall to his knees and beg for an ounce of kindness. A chance to satisfy you—a simple kiss, deepened by the second. Hands intertwined as you spread your legs for him as he places himself in between. 

As he leans his forehead against yours, he sneaks in a few pecks. “I can’t believe we have a sex tape.”

You roll your eyes. “Perv.” 

“You consented,” he sings happily. “Do you want me to delete it?”

You shake your head as he makes himself comfortable. “No… Send it to me later though. I miss you sometimes too.” 

A hearty chuckle escapes his lips as he snuggles into your embrace. You wrap your arms around him. Jungkook digs his face into his favourite spot—aside from your pussy—the cook of your neck. 

Sometimes. 

You miss him sometimes?

That’s a funny way of saying always. 

The muffled sound of music blasting downstairs and people chatting becomes evident. Yet, you two stay silent. Laying together, fingers and legs intertwined. Naked. 

When was it ever this easy? Why did this feel so right? Being with Jungkook has never been difficult—but when was it like this? When did things change? The sudden realization of the words you said while you two were intimate hit you. Were you really his girl? Did you want to be? Would he accept you if you asked?

Not only that but—when did you… When has it…

When did this begin?

These feelings.

There’s a tightness in your chest you can’t explain. Something that has been around for a while now. Long enough that you don’t remember when it first occurred and began to glow whenever he was around. What the fuck is up with that? 

As he fucked you tonight, that’s all you felt. Your heart was glowing. The closeness with him—regardless of how nasty—it was so special. It felt so good and like nothing you’ve ever felt. As you trace random things on his back with your nails, you hear him murmur, “mhmm… Yup. I love it when you do this, ___.”

It startles you.

When did you begin doing this? Being so intimate with him? Scratching his back, drawing hearts with your fingernails… When did this all happen? He says it like this isn’t the first time you’ve done it. Then, it gets hot. Suddenly, you notice how sweaty you two are and how it’s way too comfortable in his bed with him. You sit yourself up, causing him to follow. 

“I’m glad you came.”

“Pun intended?”

Jungkook pinches your cheeks and presses a kiss on your nose. “Whatever you want.”

You shove him away and get up from his bed. At least, you attempt to. 

Your legs feel shaky. He quickly holds you by the waist and catches your stumble. Looking up at him, you huff. “Look at what you did!”

“What?” he panics. 

“Jungkook, I can’t fucking walk!” You begin to freak out. “How am I supposed to go downstairs and act normal? Yuna is gonna ask so many questions and—”

“Relax,” Jungkook sets you down on his bed. “I got you.”

You sit and pout as he heads to his bathroom. When he returns, he has a black shirt and pants on. He holds a damp towel and collects your clothes off the floor. Jungkook kneels in front of you and begins to pat wipe your sweaty skin. First, your forehead, neck, and then he uses a face towel to wipe his cum off your breast. Then, he continues to pat dry your arms and in between your legs. 

Without exchanging words, he helps dress you. The entire time, he was careful and used a soft tone whenever he did speak. For the most part, he just looked at you lovingly. That look in his eyes… You know in your heart you will never forget. 

When you’re all dressed, a good enough time has passed for you to recover. Not fully, but just enough. Jungkook helps you get up and you hiss at the initial soreness. 

“Round two?” 

You hit his chest and roll your eyes. “You’re fucking insane, you know that?”

“Insanely hot?”

“Whatever you want.”

He isn’t sure what to do. 

You laugh it off, but he doesn’t. He can’t. He doesn’t know how. As you two look into each other's eyes, he feels his heart race. 

He should just say it, right? It’s easy. 

Spit it out.

___, do you want to go out with me?

Or should he do a whole confession?

___, we’ve been doing this for a while now… And I think I’ve grown an unhealthy attachment to you. I miss you when I’m not with you. When I’m with you, I never want the moment to end. Being close to you has to be my favourite part of living. 

But when he opens his mouth to speak—

“Should we go downstairs? I need water.” 

He blinks. 

“Y-yeah,” Jungkook reaches for the door. Then, as he turns the door knob, he stops himself. “One more kiss, please.”

Without a fight, you tiptoe and kiss him. Smiling into the kiss, he leans more into it and gropes your ass. You hit his chest playfully, signaling him to pull away. With great sadness, he does so. 

“I’ll go out first.”

Your words cut him deeper than a knife. 

Right.

You two aren’t dating.

You two are just fucking—in secret, at that. 

“Why can’t we leave together?” he asks, sounding a little desperate. “You said it yourself. You don’t really care if people know or not… I doubt anyone will even care.”

Shrugging, you nod. “Sure,” you answer him. “I’m not trying to hide us or anything… I just don’t really want to be questioned… But, considering I can’t really walk right now…”

He laughs, feeling like he saved himself from sadness. 

“Can we hold hands?”

You give him a face. “Don’t push it.”

“But you said—”

“I was drunk!”

Jungkook laughs, as he opens the door. Stepping out together, he locks his bedroom door as you continue bantering. Pushing past everyone in the hall, he can’t help but feel a sense of relief. 

It was a small thing. Leaving the room together and even suggesting to hold hands—it was a long shot but here he was.

With you.

Lingering fingertips and all. 

As you two head down the stairs, you’re immediately greeted by the smell of alcohol and sweaty bodies. Jungkook leans into your ear and whispers, “ahh… See? We’re blending right in.” 

He’s talking about smelling like sweaty sex. 

You bring your hands to your face, covering yourself and the shyness that rushes to your cheeks. He laughs and you hit his chest for the nth time tonight. 

“Why are you covering your face? It’s like I didn’t just see you naked. Like I didn’t fuck you—”

“Oh my god!” you cover his mouth and look around to see if anyone heard what he said so bluntly. “I know I said I don’t care if people knew but can you relax? Don’t be so proud you fucked me.”

“Why shouldn’t I be?” Jungkook says sincerely. “Do you have any idea how admired you are?”

“So I’m a prize?” you laugh. “What a joke.”

Jungkook gawks at you. 

“Do you have any idea how hard I’d try to win you if this was the fucking hunger games? I’d die for you.”

You snort. “Did you even read the series—”

“No,” he snickers. “But you get what I mean, right?”

“Not really…” you trail, turning your head in an attempt to avoid eye contact. You aren’t too sure where this conversation was heading and perhaps you aren’t ready for whatever he has to say next. “Can we—”

“I won’t get all gushy and all because you’re going to get all self-conscious and then retort by saying I have post-sex feelings—but just know you’re it. The standard. A prize. Endgame.. All of it. You’re it.”

Too stunned to speak, your lips curve into a small smile. “Jungkook—”

“___!”

You and Jungkook turn your heads and see Yuna approaching with Taehyung. She smiles brightly, practically throwing herself at you. You catch her, hug her, and tilt your head in confusion as Taehyung whispers something in Jungkook’s ear. 

Jungkook lowers his gaze at you, gulping as Taehyung finishes his exchange and steps away. Then, Taehyung offers you a short lived smile. 

“Hey, ___. How are you?” Taehyung’s voice is calm and sweet… It’s so opposite from how suspicious he’s acting.

“Good…” you say with your eyebrow raised. “What’s going on?”

Yuna tugs on your arm. “Nothing!” She sneers at Taehyung and gives him a warning look. “Way to be discrete.”

“You said to follow your lead! You aren’t doing much so I—”

“You’re the worst partner in crime ever!” Yuna scolds him.

You shake your head at the two, feeling at home with their bickering. Taehyung and Yuna act like such a married couple most of the time they’re together—you were used to it at this point. In between their bickering, you glance at Jungkook who hasn’t taken his eyes off of you. 

For some reason, you can’t make out what the look on his face is. He didn’t look happy, but he didn’t look sad either. He wasn’t angry… He looked… Eager? Worried? In agony?

“You okay?” you ask, moving away from Yuna and to Jungkook’s side. He slides his arms around your waist. You let him. 

Pulling you close, his lips shape into a pout. You cup his cheeks and squish them together. “Jungkook?”

“Wanna go back upstairs?” he suggests, resting his face on the palm of your hands. “Wanna get out of here? I’m suddenly not in the mood.”

“To what? Party?”

“To be anywhere without you.”

“But I’m here.” You reason.

He shakes his head, insisting something else. “But not you’re here with me… You know?”

You do know. 

“S-sure,” you agree even though a part of you feels hesitant. Not that you don’t want too.. More like you’re nervous and afraid of what it’ll lead to. More feelings? More sex? You don’t think you can go another round. “Where should we—”

“___ baby!” 

Your head turns to your name being called by a familiar voice. 

From the corner of your eyes, you see Taehyung and Yuna exchange disappointed looks. Just as you’re about to ask what’s going on, Seokjin and Eunwoo approach you. 

“Eunwoo,” you greet warmly. You step away from Jungkook and hug him. 

“You haven’t been answering my texts… Where have you been? I’ve been looking for you,” he whines like a child. You laugh lightly and tiptoe to ruffle his hair. Though it’s only been a few months, he hasn’t changed. He still acts like a lost puppy. “Jungkook, what’s up?”

Jungkook dabs Eunwoo up with low effort. You give him a confused look, wondering why he was acting all sulky all of the sudden. From what you recall, these two are friends. As Eunwoo greets Yuna and Taehyung, Seokjin greets you rather drunkenly. Then, he excuses himself to piss. Everyone rolls their eyes at his behaviour but let him do what he needs to.

“Can we talk?” Eunwoo asks bluntly. His question breaks the ice, but wins a wide-eyes from you all.

You tilt your head. “What about?”

“Us.”

Instantly, Jungkook feels like he’s being punched in the face. No, he wishes he was being punched in the face. Being punched in the face would be more enjoyable than standing here in between you and Eunwoo.

He has only tried a handful of times to ask and understand what happened between you and Eunwoo, but he never pressed it. Right now, he wishes he had. If he had, maybe he wouldn’t feel so threatened right now. But he didn’t and he does. Jungkook clenches his jaw, trying his best to mask his feelings. 

Was there still something between you and Eunwoo? Were you still texting him? Is Eunwoo who you’re with when you’re not with him?

All these thoughts and self-doubt flood Jungkook’s mind. 

It sinks and his insecurities make a home as you nod politely and follow Eunwoo away from the crowd. Away from him.

Not even a goodbye?

As you slip away, Jungkook sighs. How did you do that? He feels disappointed and hurt—offended even. How dare you pick someone else over him? Though no feelings between you two were expressed or exchanged in a way where commitment and exclusivity would be the trade-off—still, this wasn’t fair.

How could you walk away? Like it was easy? Like you weren’t just with him seconds ago?

It aches.

It hurts so bad that it even his anger is weak. 

No matter how much he wants to—he can’t blame you. 

He never asked you out.

“I like the way you look at her,” Yuna comforts Jungkook by patting his back. 

“Huh?” Jungkook snaps out of his thoughts. “What do you mean? Look at who?”

Yuna nudges him and gives him a ‘you’ve got to be kidding me,’ look. Then, she explains herself. “I always knew you were nice. Taehyung talks about the shit you put up with and the things you do to please people… Like how you joined the team again after they begged you to even though you felt burnt out… How you always limit your drinking so you’re sober enough to walk ___ home. How you come over and take care of her when she’s piss drunk and probably gave you a hard time—”

Jungkook’s eyes get shifty. “How do you know about that—”

“Doesn’t matter. She didn’t tell me shit, though. She doesn’t know I know and we’re going to keep it that way.” Yuna pokes Jungkook’s chest. 

He furrows his brows. “Why does everything have to be a secret when it comes to ___?”

Yuna doesn’t have an answer for him. Instead, she continues her little speech.

“You’re a nice guy… But to ___, you’re kind. It’s in your gaze. It’s in the way you always offer yourself to her. It’s in the way you’re her friend above all else—I’m so thankful you’re who you are when you’re with her. You look at her like she’s your entire world… I don’t know if you even know that—but that’s how you look at her. You look at her and it’s… It’s like she’s the only person in the world.”

Jungkook hates the words Yuna speaks. Partly because they’re all true and partly because he doesn’t know what to do after. Yuna squeezes his shoulders and he feels like he could cry. 

“Can you tell her I’ll be in my room? Waiting for her?” Jungkook pleas.

Yuna nods and excuses herself to find you in the crowd. You’re throwing your head back, laughing at whatever Eunwoo whispered in your ear. When Yuna approaches you and passes the message, you find Jungkook’s eyes from across the room. 

You smile at him and wave. 

He stands still, not knowing what to do. Before you know it, you watch him pick up his feet and head back upstairs. He doesn’t look back.

Yuna did tell you he’d be in his room… So that’s probably where he’s headed. In your mind, you make a mental note to go upstairs and figure things out with Jungkook in ten minutes. 

You’ll give Eunwoo ten more minutes... The rest of the night can be for Jungkook. 

Upstairs, Jungkook sits on the edge of his messy bed. Knees to his chest, he thinks about how fucked up everything got in a matter of moments. Did it really just take one conversation with your ex to lose you as quickly as he got you? Is this the reality of being a fuckbuddy?

He hates it. 

Jungkook clenches his fits, recalling the words Taehyung said to him. 

“Eunwoo’s tryna get back together with ___… I don’t know why it’s so important to Yuna but she said she tried to talk him out of it. Yuna said to get ___ out of here? Again, I don’t know why… I thought Eunwoo was Yuna’s favourite for ___ but I’m guessing not anymore…”

It was comforting to know that Yuna was on Jungkook’s side… But did it matter if you weren’t? You’re downstairs, talking and probably making plans to get back together with your ex.

Meanwhile, Jungkook sits in his room and waits until his eyes betray him. They flutter shut, falling asleep to the faint sound of your laugh downstairs and to the hope of you fulfilling a promise you never made.

In the morning, Jungkook wakes up and cries. He cries out of frustration and hurt. His heart feels heavy, like it could collapse and be broken. He has never felt so betrayed before.

And it’s pathetic because even then—especially then—he still waits for you.

[spiderwcd]

sleep tight | c.b.

pairing: colby brock x reader

summary: they suggested to sleep over at the haunted manor, expect this time something dangerous happens.

warnings: sleep walking, the boys being almost hurt, guilt, possession, mentions of ghosts/demons, mentions of death/gore

w.c: 4.2k

a/n: the manor that they will stay in will be made up, so none of the "hauntings" are real and dont exist.

images from pinterest !

Y/n tapped her foot, anxious. she bit her nails as they approached the large mansion, it seemed to have a dark aura already. 

"You good?" Colby asked, worried. she pulled away from her anxiety ridden movements, facing him now to see his worried expression.

"Yeah, just nervous," she chuckled dryly. "This place has a dark past." She added. 

Colby nodded, understanding. This was only her second time joining them in their explorations of the paranormal. Last time, it was a bit hard on her. Colby offered to let her stay in their hotel while they went through it without her, but she insisted. 

She shifted her gaze from Colby's sympathetic look over to the dark manor. It was a huge mansion, painted bright colors that were peeling off. It was a stark contrast to the aura that lingered. 

"Alright guys, you ready?" Sam smiled over to the two, misreading the vibe. 

"Yeah." Y/n let out a deep breath as she exited the car, eyes still on the manor. She helped the boys take out their equipment as they tweaked with the settings on the camera. 

"Hello everybody!" Sam exclaimed into the camera, Colby standing next to him. "I'm here with Colby and his girlfriend, y/n." He pointed the camera towards her direction, carrying certain items as she waved towards them, putting a smile on her face. 

"Today, we're gonna explore the Demon's Dream Manor," Colby explained into the camera, in an expressive tone. "It is said that both ghosts and demons lurk here and possess you in your sleep." He added. 

Y/n gulped hearing it out loud, she had read about it but something about it being physically said made her hair stand up and her mouth go dry. 

She walked towards the boys as they finished their intro, still holding onto some equipment. she cautiously entered the mansion, trailing behind the two boys. 

As they entered the foyer, she noticed the dark decor. it was sorta cheesy in her opinion, with the antique mirrors and candlesticks everywhere. 

"Okay, apparently it's a tourist spot," Sam began, obviously. "But we're gonna be the first people to actually stay the night, it's like forbidden for anyone to stay here after hours, even the staff," He added. 

Oh great, someones definitely gonna get thrown around here, she thought to herself. 

"How did you even convince them to let us do this?" She asked as she placed down the random supplies onto the old dining table. 

"Oh, isn't it obvious, they just took one look at me and they had to have me stay here." Sam joked as he threw back his imaginary hair. 

She giggled a bit at his response, not even wanting to know. Her eyes wandered around the tall ceilings, wondering what lies ahead of them. 

"There's this story about this place, that there was a family of 7 that lived here, 3 girls and 2 boys," Colby explained into the camera. "the girls had a sleepover, in which they essentially opened a portal with an ouija board." He clasped his hands together as the information settled. 

"if Corey was here, he'd shit himself." Y/n joked, causing the guys to chuckle. 

"Yeah so demons!" Sam chuckled, fake nervousness coated over it. "But that's not all." He quickly stated. 

"Oh yeah, there's a ghost here," Colby interrupted. "After the portal was opened, one of the girls unfortunately passed away. She was thrown or pushed out of one of the windows causing her to die." He sadly continued. 

"That poor baby," Y/n frowned, feeling remorse for the girl. The boys nodded, feeling the same empathy towards the death of the girl. 

"Alright, our tour guide is here, her name is Penny, and she's gonna explain some of the stories and what happened in this house." Colby said as he looked over to the black haired woman. 

"Well this place certainly has its history," Penny began. "Uh, well this house was built in the 1920's, it's been passed down the Merridale family for generations up until the 70's where the unfortunate events happened." She explained. 

"Was it the family that experienced the torment of certain entities?" Sam asked, pointing the camera towards her. 

"Yes, there were 5 children in total, Edith being the oldest, then Florence, Howard, Clarence, and lastly Dorthy." Penny explained. "The parents were Authur and Beatrice Merridale." She added on. 

"Who was the girl that passed away?" Y/n asked, curious. 

"It was the youngest daughter, Dorthy," Penny answered. "It was really sad considering she was the one that was mostly scared and didn't even want to participate in the ouija board." 

Y/n felt a pang of sadness hit her, feeling so sorry for the little girl. 

"That's awful," Y/n gasped, her face furrowing with sadness. Colby placed a hand onto her back, trying to comfort her a bit. 

"Yeah, it's unfortunate but I'm also a medium, and I have communicated with her before, she's a kind spirit and she's known to ward off the evil around people. Especially women." She continued, adding comfort to the situation. 

Y/n smiled, feeling comfort at the idea that this place isn't totally overrun by evil and there's some sort of light. 

"I really hope she's gonna be protecting us tonight," Colby sighed, feeling some sort of uneasy feeling linger. 

"Usually she'll just follow us and protect us, you can just tell her it's okay to follow you and watch, she doesn't do any harm," Penny offered. "I can just feel her already, she really likes you y/n." She pointed out.

Y/n's eyes widened a bit, looking around herself. "It's okay to follow us around the house Dorothy, we won't hurt you." y/n said into the open, hoping she'd hear her. 

The boys did the same, before they began touring the house. They heard the occasional taps and knocks as they explored the house. They soon entered what seemed like the girls room. 

"This is where the most activity happens,'' Penny presented. "This was the girls room, and this was the window where Dorothy was pushed out of." She pointed out towards the large nook like area that overlooked the road. 

"Wow, that's really high up," Colby gasped slightly as he looked down from the window. "I can't imagine how much pain she felt." He sighed out. 

"She died on impact," Penny elaborated. "So the good part was she didn't suffer." She included. 

"I'm so sorry, Dorothy, that this happened to you." Y/n whispered as she looked around the room, examining the surroundings. Then she felt a sort of tap on her shoulder, she turned around to face the boys. 

"You guys didn't touch me, did you?" she asked 

"No, why did you feel someone touch you?" sam asked

"Y-Yeah it was like a tap on my shoulder to get me to turn around." she described. 

"Someone's gonna have to stay here and sleep in this room..." Sam said before promptly touching his nose. Colby quickly reacted and mirrored his actions, leaving you to be last. 

The boys silently exclaimed as you groaned. "Of course it has to be me." She sighed. 

"Well it is a girl's room so you'll fit right in." Sam chuckled, before following Penny as they exited the bedroom. 

Colby lingered behind along with y/n. "You know you don't have to do it, I can take your place in here or even sleep with you in the room." He offered. 

"No it's okay, plus we both know that's not a good idea." Y/n joked as she knew how touchy he was. 

"Not where my mind was going, but now I really want to sleep in the same room with you." Colby smirked a bit, holding onto her hand as they explored the rest of the house. 

"This is the master bedroom, where the parents slept,'' Penny pointed out into the large bedroom, if it wasn't for the dark history this home would've been pretty gorgeous. "At some point, all of the family slept in this bedroom, they were scared of what lived in this home. I don't know if you guys mentioned it before, but there was an incident in this room as well." She continued. 

"Possession and sleep walking?" Sam asked, furrowing his brow. 

"Yes, but there was a part of the story that most people leave out," Penny pointed out. "When the family was all asleep in this room, one of the girls kept having nightmares and one night she began sleep walking, mumbling random words. She actually grabbed one of the kitchen knives and tried attacking her family." He added. 

Everyone gasped a bit, shocked about how this wasn't told before. 

"Wait, was everyone okay?" Colby asked, worry written on his face. 

"Yes, but she did manage to stab her mother in her right shoulder, but luckily, everyone woke up to her mother screaming and pulled her out of that trance." Penny answered, clasping her hands together. 

If everyone didn't feel scared before, they surely did now. The air was tense and felt suffocating, full of uneasiness. y/n scooted towards Colby, now holding his hand for security. Colby tightened his grip on her hand, a sign for protection. They suddenly heard footsteps behind them, causing her to jump closer to Colby's body. He turned around, his body shielding y/n. 

"You hear that?" Colby asked, looking around before looking over to sam. "Sounded like footsteps. 

"Yeah I heard that too," Sam replied as he also looked around, pointing his camera towards the darkness. 

"Usually it's just entities following us around," Penny warned. "If you are not Dorothy, you may not follow us or attach to any of us, you don't have our permission to touch us, follow us, or attach to us." She shouted behind us. 

Everyone stayed quiet before they continued the tour. Before we knew it, Penny had to go, leaving us alone in the large manor. The group sat in the dining area, considering what to do. 

"Did you bring any toys?" Y/n asked. "Maybe we can leave one for dorothy." She offered. 

Colby smiled at her sweetness, finding her kindness refreshing in the mansion. "Yeah, I think we bought a doll for her." Colby said as he dug into his bag, picking out a little doll. "That is, if you're not talking about other toys?" he smirked, jokingly wiggling his brows 

"Shut up," she blushed at his dirty comment. "But thank you, hopefully she'll love it." She smiled, examining the toy doll. 

"Are you still going to sleep in that room?" Sam asked as he pointed the camera towards her. 

"Yeah, I'm not backing down, plus I have Dorothy for protection," y/n replied with a sigh, she was terrified but she knew that colby would be a couple doors down in the master bedroom. "Plus Colby will fight the spirits for me, isn't that right?" She inquired. 

"Oh yeah, I'll use my big strong muscles to ward them off you," Colby joked as he flexed his muscles. "But I'll probably be thrown out the window if I even try, so I can't help out there." He chuckled. 

She gave Colby a kiss on his lips, while Sam pretended to gag towards the camera. 

"Alright, enough you too, you're gonna make me and Dorothy sick," Sam teased. "Anyway, what are we gonna start with first?" he asked. 

"I think we should do the alice box," Colby offered. "We could do the estes method after." he continued. 

Sam nodded, "alright lets start up the alice box." he began as he dug through the bag, grabbing the small box. it turned on with a loud crackle, before different frequencies blasted through. 

"Is there anyone here willing to speak to us here?" Sam asked, waiting for a response. 

"...here..."

"Here, can you tell us who we were speaking to?" Colby inquired, it was silent for a moment before it spoke again.

"...not..." "...man..." 

Shivers ran down her spine hearing the words. 

"Can you tell us your name?" Y/n requested, but it didn't say anything.

"If it's not human, it doesn't want to give us its name," y/n sighed. "Their names are what gives you power over them." She continued. The guys nodded a bit, agreeing with her statement. 

"Is it true that there is a portal in this house?" Colby questioned. 

"...yeah..."

"Is there a spirit with the name of Dorothy in this home too?" Y/n inquired as she leaned closer in her seat, awaiting the answer. 

"...lost..." It gurgled over other words, too. Y/n furrowed her brow confused. 

"Lost? I'm not sure what that's supposed to mean." Sam wondered, thinking about the words while the alice box spewed more confusing words. 

"Did you possess one of the daughters here to kill her family?" Colby asked into the air. 

"...shhh..." "...sleep..." "...scream..." 

They looked at each other, mouths open with shock. 

"I mean Penny did say that she was possessed in her sleep," y/n let out, sort of covering her mouth in shock. "And the family woke up to their mom screaming." She clarified. They agreed with her statement before returning back to the alice box. 

"What do you think about us being here? We're the first people in decades to sleep in this home." Sam expressed. 

"...play..." "...touch..." "...mmmh..." "...her..." 

It ran shivers down her spine and traveled all around her body. "What the hell." She muttered out, gripping onto Colby's arms. 

"No, you can not touch her, she's not yours," Colby angrily growled, holding her close to him. "You're not allowed to touch any of us, especially her." 

She felt herself wanting to shake a bit hearing those words, while the alice box spewed out more words. Sam quickly turned it off, and put it away. 

"What the actual fuck dude." Sam faced Colby with a shocked expression planted on his face. 

"Yeah, clearly something here feeds off women's energy." Colby replied, trying to comfort y/n. 

"Are you okay, y/n?" Sam asked, camera still rolling. 

"Y-Yeah, im fine just a bit shocked," she answered as she released her grip. "Let's just do the Estes method, let me do it." She added.

"No way," Colby scoffed. "You're being targeted, y/n." Colby explained.

She looked up into his eyes, seeing worry in his stern look. "Colby, it's okay, I can do it." She assured him. "You'll be right next to me, pulling me out if anything." 

Colby's eyes softened a bit, knowing there's no way he's gonna convince her not to do it. "Okay, but if it goes south even for a moment, I'll pull you out." He sighed. 

She smiled, squeezing his hand to assure him. she grabbed the headphones and blindfold, putting them on. Sam turned on the machine and the familiar static blared through. 

Y/n couldn't hear them as they began asking questions. 

"How did you get here?" Sam asked, waiting for an answer from y/n. 

“Board." She repeated. "Invited us." 

"Like the ouija board." Colby looked up at Sam. Sam nodded, agreeing.

"Can you tell me how many of you are here?" Colby questioned. 

"You." She said, "Ten." She continued. 

"Not alone." 

"Well, that's comforting." Sam scoffed, jokingly.

"Howard." She shouted out. Colby looked over to Sam, both thinking the same thing.

"That's one of the sons' names." Colby finally said. 

"Pretty." Y/n answered. "Scared." She finally said. 

"Like one of us is scared or something," Sam pondered. 

"Night." Y/n continued. "Party." 

The two wondered what that meant, "like a sleepover." Colby finally figured it out, snapping his fingers and pointing up to sam. 

"Oh my god, you're right!,'' Sam gasped. "The slumber party that the girls were having." 

"Terror. Dorothy." She repeated. Y/n felt herself begin to shake as an uneasy feeling crawled on her back. "Scream." She continued 

"What the hell?" Sam whispered, unsure what's happening. 

The two guys suddenly heard a loud thud upstairs. they looked up, confused where it could come from. "sounded like it was in one of the bedrooms." Sam admitted. 

"Laugh, I just heard a, like, loud guttural laugh." Y/n pointed to her headphones. "Precious. Soul." 

"Okay I think we need to pull her out," Colby quickly continued, tapping on y/n's thigh to snap her out. "Y/n, come on." 

She tore off the headphones at the last second as she heard some sort of loud scream, "woah, just as you were pulling me out, I heard this loud ass scream." Y/n pulled the blindfold off her eyes, visibly shaken. 

"It's okay, it's over now." Colby comforted her as he pulled her up, embracing her into his arms. 

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Things had finally settled, they went out to go get something to eat. They talked about theories, noting things and connecting points, and how they felt being in the house. 

When they returned, they noticed the house became colder. They slightly shivered at the cool air nipping at their skin.

"Here." Colby said as he handed her a hoodie. She smiled up at Colby, thanking him for it. 

"Aren't you gonna be cold, baby?" She asked, worried about him. 

"I'll be okay, I'll just borrow one from sam." Colby smiled at her concern. "Or i'll just tear it off his body." He joked, causing Sam to spin around and mutter what. 

They laughed at his reaction, feeling the mood lighten up slightly. she put on the hoodie, inhaling his scent that was mixed with cologne. it comforted her, making her feel comfortable. 

"Alright guys, it's time to go to our respected rooms,'' Sam said as they began to part ways. "To sleep overnight at the demon's dream manor." He turned the camera to face Sam and Colby, with an ominous stare. 

"Can't believe you two are gonna be in the same room," Y/n sighed. "Hands off my boyfriend, Golbach." She continued with a stern look, jokily. 

"Hey, I can't promise anything, sugar," Colby replied teasingly, stepping closer to sam. "What if I get cold?" He pouted his lip and pretended to shiver as he huddled towards Sam. 

Sam and y/n laughed at his reaction, they joked for a moment more before they actually had to go to sleep. She turned on her camera, ready to give a moment of her thoughts. 

"To be honest, I'm really scared," she admitted into the lens. "I have this really bad feeling that something is gonna happen, but I'm sure that Dorothy, wherever she is, is gonna protect us." She sighed out. 

"I wonder what the guys are doing," y/n wondered. "probably rubbing their feet together and cuddling." She chuckled. She stayed silent for a moment as she heard random footsteps outside her door. 

"I just heard footsteps, I hope the camera caught that, or even the guys heard that." Y/n looked over the camera and at the door, not seeing anything. 

It was silent besides a few crickets outside and the humming of a radiator, which was odd because it was freezing. "Well guys, wish me luck, i'm gonna put out this little doll Colby gave me and rest my lil head and pray that nothing happens." She finally said before placing the doll on a wooden chair and positioning the camera to face her and her surroundings. 

As the night progressed, slowly getting closer to the 3 o'clock hour. Y/n couldn't help but feel restless. Her body was sleeping, but her mind wasn't. She felt stuck in some sort of loop, a nightmare. 

She found herself in a thick fog, on what seemed to be a dirt road. She frantically looked around as she heard a faint whisper, what seemed to be coming from all different directions. 

She began to run, but the whispers didn't seem to go away. She tried to cover her ears as she sprinted through the mist. Then she saw a building approaching, she felt as if it was a beacon for hope. 

as she neared towards it, her heart began to sink. It was the mansion. But this time, it was much darker than she remembered. The manor seemed to have a shadow casted around it, she began to panic as she felt a hard pressure on her chest. 

Then she saw a dark shadow, a figure raced past from the woods behind the house. She felt worry and fear begin to settle in her chest, she didn't want to go towards it. But her body seemed to be pulled as she slowly made her way behind the house. She braced herself for what was to come, but nothing. 

She felt some sort of relief wash over her before she spun around, seeing it. It was dark and tall, it had piercing white eyes with red pupils. It towered over her as it grinned down at her, with its black and scrawny, long fingers began to grip her hands. It pulled her close to its body. She screamed as she began to sob, trying to fight back and call out for colby. 

"Y/n!" Colby shouted out, "wake up!" He shook her awake. 

She opened her eyes to her surroundings, looking around frantically as tears stained her face. Y/n began shaking and trying to figure out what happened. Then she noticed Colby's cut hand and the knife sitting across the room. 

"W-what happened?!" She panted as she didn't want to think of the worst. Sam was behind Colby, looking at her with fear plastered in his eyes. 

"Y-you just came in here," Colby began. "You opened the door, thank god Sam was still awake, he thought you didn't want to sleep in the room anymore and went to sleep with me. But..." He stopped himself, contemplating whether to say it.

"What did I do?" Y/n whimpered, feeling guilt build up. 

"Sam saw you have a knife, we don't even know where you got it from, cause they removed all the knives from the house." Colby continued. "He pushed you off of me as you were about to... stab me." He finally admitted. 

She began to sob into her hands, "D-Did I do that? Did I h-hurt you" she asked him, her voice shaking. 

"Y-Yeah, you got back up, and I was awake by then. I thought I could get you to wake up and unarm you,"Colby sighed. "you just started slinging that thing around, and I put my hand up and you cut me a bit, but I’m okay, y/n I swear. It's just a cut.” He reasoned 

"Oh god, Colby, I'm so sorry," she cried out as Colby pulled her in. "I'm so sorry, I-i didn't mean to hurt y-you." Y/n muttered into his shirt. 

He tried to comfort her the best he could, she cried for what felt like hours. Colby looked up to Sam, who still had a worried expression on his face. 

"Okay, we have to get out of here," Sam suddenly broke the air. "Y/n, just stay in the car and we'll pack everything." He continued, still afraid of her. 

She didn't say anything as Colby guided her out of the house. He opened the car and she sat in it, looking up at the mansion again. She felt a shiver run down her spine, causing her hair on her body to stand up. 

As the guys packed up everything, Sam couldn't help himself and just asked. "Do you think that thing is attached to her now?'' He gulped a bit. 

"I hope not," Colby answered with sadness in his voice. "Whatever happened, fucked her up, we'll have to sage before we leave." he continued as he grabbed the bag. Sam nodded, agreeing with him. 

"Don't take this the wrong way man," Sam began. "But, do you think we can even release the footage? I got it all on camera." He admitted. 

"Hell no," Colby frowned. "I don't want the world thinking she's a monster, she didn't mean to do it, that fucking thing possessed her and controlled her." he spat angrily. 

Sam nodded, agreeing with him. "Yeah, just gonna have to tell the fans that we lost the footage or something." He sighed as he put away the last of the equipment. 

as they exited the house, they said their usual thing. "You cannot follow any of us, including y/n. you cannot follow us home." They announced behind them, before they closed the door. 

They began walking down to the car, seeing the sun begin to rise. Y/n just stared ahead, no emotion on her face. Her mind was racing from thought to thought. She didn't even flinch when they entered the car, Sam looked over to her then back to Colby. He had a worried expression written on his face. 

As they were pulling away from the property, she couldn't help but look back. She saw a dark figure move out of the view in the window, making her freeze for a moment before returning to the emotionless stare. 

As they drove, silence hung in the air. They didn't play music, joke around, or talk about anything like they usually did. Just silence. She didn't want to talk about it, still traumatized from her experience. Y/n couldn't shake that cold feeling on her back, images of her nightmare flashing in her mind. 

Something was left with her, but it wasn't an attachment. But it was rather the guilt and trauma she would carry with her for a lifetime. 

[fallenneziah]

Keep still.

Summary: Stuck staking out in a closet with Ghost, you clearly need to be reminded how to stay still.

Cw: NSFW, p in v, afab, she/her pronouns, I honestly never know if my smut is good or not, pet names, Ghost doesn't like being teased, not beta read.

The idea of hiding out in a supply closet with Ghost was an interesting one. Being pressed in together and having nothing to do for a few hours except banter back and forth to quietly. Knowing both of your track records it was only a matter of time before things drifted.

The silence outside made you both wonder if you could leave, but under strict instruction from Price that only on his command, you couldn't.

You leaned your head back against the wall, looking up at Ghost.

"You bored yet?"

"I'm used to stakeouts. Nothing new."

He shifted his large body in the closet, getting comfortable as he could on his feet again.

You hummed, your knee brushing on his thigh, drifting up across the inner leg.

Ghost's eyes watched you, searching you and finding that glint in your eye. "Careful there sweetheart. You don't want to do that."

You raised an eyebrow, your knee reaching his pelvis, just on his outer thigh. "Are you sure? I think I do..."

The dark supply closet didn't give you much knowledge of Ghost's current expression behind his mask. But still your knee pressed against the tight seam of his pants, watching his body tense up.

"Don't be scared Ghost. You're only in here with me."

Ghost grunted, shoving your leg away, the glint in his eye finally showing, even through the darkness. "No. You know that you're in here with me."

Outside of the closet was silent. The comm was quiet. Ghost took the opportunity and pushed you back against the wall.

You gasped softly, looking up at him, lips slightly parted. His hand on your throat, slowly clasping tighter over the flesh and bone, keeping you kept in place.

"Can't sit still for too long.. such a fuckin' shame, darlin'."

He brought his other hand to his mouth, biting and pulling the glove off to reveal his scarred, rough hand.

You squirmed, watching him snap your gear belt off, unzipping your pants and slipping his hand inside your cargos to massage your warm panties.

You bit your lip out of habit. Looking up at him, feeling his thumb under your chin, forcing your gaze up a little more.

Ghost ran two fingers over your panties, feeling your labia and already slick started to heat the area.

"There it is... good girl."

You moaned softly and his hand adjusted, slipping into your panties and feeling your pretty cunt. "You and this sweet thing..." He hummed, leaning in, his breath warm on your ear.

"I'll make you sit still. Clearly they didn't teach you that in training."

You felt yourself getting more excited under him. Looking up into his eyes that barely reflected the light under the door.

His hand sliding through your labia and pinching your clit, rubbing it with his two fingers.

"Ghost-" You attempted to inhale but his hand squeezed your throat, keeping you silent. "You alert the others, and we'll have a real problem sweetheart." He whispers firmly. "That's part of being stealthy."

You whine, feeling his large fingers trace through your slicken mess, feeling your cunt growing sloppier as he works. His fingers tracing from your clit to your entrance, rubbing and massaging the tight slit with his middle finger.

"Shit... not gonna make this easy on me, darlin'."

You moaned softly again, his finger pressing into your entrance, feeling your tight walls cling to his finger, writhing as he pushes it inside.

You gasp, feeling his hand tighten on your throat again as he worked his finger inside you, pumping and twisting gently. Feeling your gummy walls relax and start to give him leeway.

He hums, watching your expressions as his second finger presses to your entrance, the tight walls harsh to accept it, but eventually swallowing it, making you wince.

"There it is..." He moved his fingers around a bit, feeling slick completely coat them, pumping in and out of your entrance, and then pulling away, his hand slipping out of your pants.

He undid his own belt with one hand, pulling the zipper and getting his boxers down, pulling out his cock.

You gulped, lips parting seeing his throbbing, thick cock. It jumped slightly, having gone through the effects of the exchange.

He stroked his cock, watching it twitch with excitement.

"You know what to do sweetheart... on your knees. Put those pretty lips on this cock."

You looked up at him, his hand massaging your throat and keeping a firm grip on you as you went down, finding room on your knees in front of him in the space. The hand on your throat gliding up into your hair, giving it a teasing tug when he lined up his cock with your lips.

You lick his cock, kissing the head and gliding your lips down his shaft, coming back up and bringing his head into your mouth.

Ghost groaned softly, hand tightening in your hair and guiding you further down. "That's it..." He whispers, watching your face. Seeing your lips wrap around his cock and take his length into your throat, tensing and groaning around his thick girth.

He leaned back, stroking his hand through your hair. Pressing you down a little further. Your throat tensed, whining and pulling back up on his cock, gasping for breath as saliva kept you connected to his cock.

It twitched eagerly. He could see you soft cheeks swell, bringing your lips back to his cock. "Keep going luv, gonna get it all."

You moaned softly, taking his cock again and sucking the head, pressing it into your throat and trying to relax your throat. He groaned, arching his hips into you, feeling his head press against the back of your throat and your nose press up against his skin.

You breathed in, face pressed against his pelvis, buried in the corse hair travelling up his belly. You looked up at him, tears starting in your eyes feeling his fat cock in your throat, saliva choking up in your throat.

You grabbed on to his thigh, gripping it tightly. Simon shushed you softly, holding your head.

"Swallow." He said, keeping you held down even when you tried to pull your head back up.

You whined, exhaling sharply and choking, trying to relax your throat. Flexing and finally swallowing around his cock, hearing him groan happily. "Fuck-"

He let go of your head, letting you pull up, gasping for air as saliva drips down your chin.

You wiped your mouth, panting and looking up at him.

He caressed your chin, motioning you up. "Good girl, now keep quiet."

You stood, his body pressing into you as he forced you around, pressing you against the wall. One hand pressing on your shoulder the other pulling your pants down to your ankles, dropping your panties and rubbing your cunt.

His fingers drag over your labia, dipping into your warmth and feeling the slick on his fingers.

"So fuckin' wet. Been wanting this I bet." He whispers near your ear, pressing his fingers back into your tight heat, fucking them up into you.

You gasped, arching your neck. His hand on your shoulder wraps on your mouth, clasping it shut before you can moan, struggling in his arms. Your legs spread, fingers plunging up into you.

"Yeah... just like that."

He pulled his fingers out and arched your back, knocking your legs open a little further. Noise stirred outside the closet, footsteps passing by the door.

You squirmed, eyelids fluttering as Ghost presses his cock to your slit, rubbing his cock through your labia, feeling your slick coat his cock, dripping down his shaft and flicking across his fingers.

Fuck... it made him so hard.

He groaned, pressing his cock to your slit, slowly sliding into your cunt.

"Fuck- fuckin' hell..." He leaned against you, still covering your mouth as you moaned into his gloved hand.

Eyelids fluttering as his thick cock filled you, stretching you open. The punch and pain filled you briefly as his cock settled halfway, letting you get used to it.

Simon hummed, leaning back and pressing his hand to the base of your spine, dragging his hips out and watching his cock slide back into your cunt.

You squirmed and moaned, grabbing onto his forearm as he parts at a steady pace. Watching his cock slide in and out, picking up the pace.

"Keep quiet luv, can't get caught now." He whispered to you, keeping you in place while he fucks into you.

Ghost grunts, leaning in and breathing your scent through his mask. "Takin' me so well sergeant." He took his hand off your mouth, seeing you breathing heavy and moaning, trying to keep it down.

His hand caressed your throat, hearing your moans for him.

He moaned softly, leaning back. He pulled out halfway and slid back in, forcing his cock in further, his hips meeting your ass, bottoming out inside your cunt.

You moaned louder, Simon's gloved fingers dipping into your mouth and pressing on your tongue, tears swelling in your eyes from pleasure.

"Ghost-"

"Shush." He pressed his fingers in deeper, making you choke and close your mouth around them.

Noises of skin against skin filling the closet.

His comm crackled, Price's voice filling the small closet over the noise of Simon's grunts and your whines into his hand.

"Coast is clear Ghost. You have a ten minute window, Gaz is watching your six."

Ghost grunted, reaching for his comm, driving his hips into you, cock throbbing in your warm cunt. "Stay quiet sweetheart." He reminded you, pressing down on his comm.

"Copy that... the sergeant and I will get moving soon."

He turned off his comm, gripping both your hips, slamming his cock into you, speeding up and pressing you into the wall, hearing your loose moans filling the storage closet.

He panted and gasped, whining when his hand covers your mouth again, breathing hard through your nose.

He moaned through his grit teeth, feeling your cunt clench around him. "There... there sweetheart. Cum for me." He whispered, his other hand with a bruising grip on your left hip.

You moaned into his hand, your legs shaking as your orgasm swelled up inside you, eyes rolling back in your head. You came hard on his cock, cunt spasming around him. Sensitivity soon setting in, making you jump as his cock keeps moving.

"Fuckin' hell... that's it luv." He groans through your tight cunt, his cock twitching inside you.

"I'm gonna- Fuck- that's it." He pants, his hips speeding up, violently fucking you against the wall and pulling out, cock twitching and cumming all along your back.

He pants, seeing his cum coat your body.

"Fuck..." He pants, letting go of you, your body slumping into the wall. He leans in, pressing his face to your neck.

"Now you know to sit still don't you?"

You moaned, shivering as you slowly recovered. "You... you might have to remind me occasionally."

He smirked, chuckling darkly and reaching down, rubbing his fingers through your labia, dripping with your orgasm.

"Don't test me sergeant."

You jerked a little, standing up again on your own feet.

"Now let's get home shall we?"

Simon did up his pants and helped you with your uniform, wiping off the cum coating your lower back and shirt.

He slipped open the storage room door and let you follow along behind him.

[rottiens]

NOCTURNAL WALTZ | RYŌMEN SUKUNA

✮ summary. . when life tries to ruin your dreams you keep trying. you get up, wipe the sweat off and try again, even when you fall… it's either that, or ally yourself with your rival and hope he doesn't drag you down to the bottom of hell with him.

✮ cw. . workplace harassment (not from sukuna), slight possessiveness, slight violence (blood), alcohol consumption, smoking, eventual smut, exhibitionism, choking kink, dirty talk, breeding kink, 18+

✮ tags. . modern + ballet au, enemies to friends to lovers, briefly fake dating, all characters are adults, descriptions used for the reader: fem + afab!, backstory, has hair long enough to tie, wears dress in one scene. divider creds: cafekitsune.

✮ wc. . 18K

Ever since you were a little girl all you've known to do is dance. 

You did it at school performances, you did it at Christmas when your whole family gathered in the living room and the snow fell cold on the tall treetops and red flowers in your garden. 

You always remember the scene wistfully and in slow motion, longing for the days that will never return. Your father played the piano and your mother looked on proudly, her hands were always clasped together at chest level watching you with the eyes of an owl making circles with your legs in the air. She always had that expression on her face as if she was afraid you were going to fall, she was always on the edge of her seat, her lips curved into a smile— after all, she was in charge of organizing all your choreography and choosing the songs you were going to dance to, along with your shoes and your outfit. All this was until you were fifteen when you begged her to finally enroll you in a real dance school.

You remember how nervous you were on the first day. You wore your hair pulled back so tight it looked like you were smiling the whole time, your eyebrows stretched and your stomach felt like that Halloween night where you ate so much candy your guts hurt, though all of this was pushed aside the moment you saw the great ballroom.

The walls rose far higher than your little eyes could see. White lights glowed against the beige walls —which your teenager self mentally corrected them later, it wasn't beige, it was salmon, with curtains the color of the peach your mother cut on Sunday mornings— and in the background you could appreciate a melody you knew well since it was your mother's favorite, the one she always chose for you to dance: "dance of the sugar plum fairy." 

Training professionally was much more demanding than your mom had told you. You studied in the morning and practiced in the afternoon, your feet hurt all the time in the beginning although with time this became more bearable, however they never stopped hurting because you never stopped practicing. 

The lights blinded you for a moment leading you to run away from the incandescent glowing light, causing you to stumble and Sukuna purposely let you fall from his arms so that you kissed the ground. 

Your body hits the wooden floor with a dull thud, the live music doesn't stop because of your accident and the director of the ballet claps twice again. It's the signal that the show must go on, it's what the music means that instead of slowing down it rushes to climax, you force yourself to stand up, with a sukuna growling tiredly behind you. No one helps you so you do it alone, you bury your toes in the wood and your injured feet push off the ground and support your weight once more as you rise phoenix-like on your tips.  

This is what it takes to be a pro, is what your mother would say if she were alive. You hear her voice loud and strong in your eardrum along with the noise of the music. 

One, two and... up!

You hear her ask you for more. Lift your foot more, lift your knees more, straighten your back more. You're trying but—

"You're being too rough," you spit through gritted teeth. Maintaining the fake smile your character must wear. 

You know he hears you, yet he remains silent, twisting and turning, holding you above his head and taking one last turn.... Everything seems blurry from your point of view, your stomach churning like a roller coaster even though you don't remember the last thing you ate because this was exactly what you wanted to avoid. 

Don't throw up, don't throw up.

You catch the two claps from the director indicating that sukuna should drop you and that's exactly what he does... with a little more force than he should, his hands are loose on your waist, barely gripping you. Your arms stretch, they tremble in the air as does your smile, a cold sweat that shouldn't be there runs down your temples, you feel the salty drops slide over your lower lip and your breathing becomes almost nonexistent, your chest rises and falls and then sukuna lets you go, you are alone, the lights focus completely on you and you hear laughter in the background. 

This is the moment where you must do your solo. Spin alone one more time and then let yourself fall. Your feet don't respond at first, you had forgotten your smile, very focused on moving your legs but when you manage to do it you falter again and collapse on the floor with a harder impact than the previous time. Now the music comes to a sudden stop. 

You hear him sigh heavily, followed by the fluttering of the sheets of paper in his hand. Kurogawa, the director, puts his glasses on his head like a makeshift headband and slaps his hands once. 

Immediately the whole room fills with noise, people start moving. Even your dance partner who although you don't see him, you feel him walking and moving away from you. You have a hard time getting up, this time you really have a hard time. Your body has been beaten to a pulp by the dozens of practices you have carried out these days, your dress and tights hide the bruises that have permeated the floor on them, you carry on your hips sukuna fingers by the force in which he has grabbed you, even so, you do not manage to perform the spin that should come out naturally. 

You are a star, this is what you were born to do and this is what you have always done, why can't a dumb spin come out perfectly? 

Kurogawa calls your name before you can move further away. You freeze in the middle of the stage, grateful to be away from the spotlight and more in the comfort of the gloom. 

You sense his footsteps approaching, with each footstep his heels announce how close he is and your body trembles, your teeth chatter and you force yourself to be still. 

"What's the matter?" His voice is neither far nor near. 

"I don't..." you force your lip between your teeth before articulating your next words. You can't say you can't. 

"I asked you a question." His body is behind you, stopping the draft that touched your back, serving as a wall that exudes warmth and insecurity. 

His hand curls around your forearm with some force and makes you turn to see him, his violet eyes are naked, without the glasses he looks much younger, yet a couple of gray hairs escape from the improvised headband reminding you of the age difference. 

Kurogawa examines you up and down, his eyes linger on your mouth for a moment and you think maybe he notices how dry they are, this prompts you to lick them suddenly. 

"Do you want me to switch someone for you? There are dozens of girls who wish they were in your shoes." 

"I know, sir." You bite your lip to control your emotions, and swallow the bitter bile rising up your esophagus. 

His hand descends from your forearm to the width of your shoulder blades. "I don't think you appreciate it enough." This time he addresses you in a lower tone, he's hunched down to be at your height and the tone he uses would seem like he's telling a secret. His fingers run down the length of your back, you feel his fingers drag the fabric and linger on your lower back. "Is it Ryōmen? Is he the problem?" Then he pulls you closer to his body, this time there is no space between you, his leg is touching yours and his bittersweet breath, the taste of liquor mixed with wilted petals brushes your nose. 

"I feel that we are not compatible, sir."

"Ah..." exclaims Kurogawa, still glued to you. "Are you implying that my best student isn't good enough for you?" 

"I think..." he was too close for you to even think of anything. You try to see past his shoulders that steal all the light yet there is nothing but darkness, and the chill in your temples moves to your lower abdomen. 

“Child... you're lucky your daddy paid a lot of money for you to be here, I don't think there's much talent in you.” Your mascara-filled lashes flutter like the wings of a swan. Your lips part to ask for space, but you're interrupted, he says your name and it's bitter, it sounds disgusting in his throat. “But the untalented ones, they can always do something else, can't they?” 

Suddenly, someone calls your name again from the vast darkness behind you. 

“Don't keep me waiting. You made me promise to take you home, brat.” 

Kurogawa takes a moment to detach himself from you and you inhale in despair, you were drowning in his cheap cologne and alcohol stench. Sukuna is behind him, like a silhouette, you can barely make out his body. 

You don't stop to look at the director when you step out of his reach, you don't even do it with Sukuna and run far away from there. The silence that settles in the corridor is terrifying, you feel like running to get away as fast as you can from there, however you try to keep your composure, you tighten the fabric of the tutu looking for some security and comfort in it breathing out of sync and when you manage to reach the street you have to lean back against one of the walls to regain your composure. 

You force yourself to breathe through your nose and let it out through your mouth forming a cold mist. The icy breath of the night is a slap of reality that makes your cheeks tingle and your legs and arms are the first to complain about the change in temperature. 

Sukuna appears at your side a few seconds later, he says nothing, so you force yourself to lift your head and check his expression. There are wrinkles in his brow and he has his hands tucked in his front pockets, you realize this is the first time you've seen him in casual clothes. He had had time to change out of his uniform to replace it with worn blue jeans and a black sweater that has blood red lettering embroidered on the chest. 

His presence floods you with the same excitement as the first time you stepped off the plane and the change of weather made your body bristle, making you feel uncomfortable in your own skin. You were scared like a mouse forced out of its burrow. As at that moment, all you needed was a hug. A ghostly force grabs you by the hips and lifts you off the brick wall, throwing you into the arms of your dance partner in search of the comfort you can't seem to find anywhere else these past few days.

Sukuna tenses up at your boldness. You are sobbing into his chest as if someone has passed away. He stands still for a while, allowing your hands to barely touch his hip, while the few passersby watch the peculiar scene, wondering what has happened; after all you are still outside the prestigious ballet academy.

Against all odds, he puts his hand on your back in an unprofessional way, in a way he has never done even dancing with you. His arm floats in the air in a strange and awkward motion until he decides to rest it on your lower back, completely pulling you closer to him. His left arm goes to your shoulder blades squeezing you to his chest completely, giving you a strange comfort that doesn't quite reach friendly.

Excessive tears prevent you from breathing, so you fight the grip and prison that is his ribcage to look up and search his eyes.

“Are you okay?” Your knees give out on you, though with his help you stabilize again. “What was it he said to you?”

You sniffle through your nose. Those red eyes seem to watch every move you make and suddenly, the heat of realization of how close you are begins to climb up your ribs until it sits on your chest.

“Nothing.”

“I saw how close you were. Whatever he said or did to you...” Sukuna pauses, weighing what he will say next. You see him close his mouth and his jaw tenses. “You can trust me, I know there are rumors that he...” 

“This is just an allergy,” you interrupt him by clearing your throat. 

Sukuna laughs. Not only does he laugh, but he brushes you aside as he bursts out laughing holding his stomach. You cross your arms and pucker your lips, feeling the indignation immediately.

Without saying anything to him and with the wind freezing the salty tears on your cheeks, you turn to walk away from him infuriated with yourself that you allowed yourself to be vulnerable with someone like him. 

“Brat!” he was still laughing. “Wait...” you hear him trot behind you, until his fingers pull your forearm back to force you to stop. “Your bag.”

When you notice what he's holding in his hands and had probably been carrying on his back, you realize that it was indeed your bag. You would have left it in the room along with your belongings in the locker had it not been for him. 

“Thank you,” is all you say, still suspicious of his thoughtfulness.

“Are you hungry?”

“No.”

As if it were part of a comedy scene, your stomach growls and Sukuna has to cover his mouth to contain his laughter. You look at him accusingly again. When he removes his hand from his face and raises it in submission, he reveals a smile that shows his teeth and fangs, returning to the predatory aura that always surrounds him.

“I'm gonna order sushi to go, you can join me if you want.” The wind makes you hug yourself again, avoiding his eyes at all costs. “It's across the street.”

Ryōmen Sukuna has been a pain in the ass ever since you met him at dance school. Ever since you arrived, all he's done is annoy you: bad-mouth you to your classmates, be rude in your presence, and belittle your work when you were chosen as the principal dancer. Having him here, pretending to care about you and inviting you to dinner, throws you off.

Realizing that you cried into his chest and, worse, were comforted by his touch, makes you feel guilty.

“I don't need your fake kindness.”

Sukuna lets out a snort and mimics you, crossing his arms over his chest as he looks down at you from above, like a superior being marking his position.

“It's just sushi. Don't act like I'm offering you an engagement ring. Just say no.”

“And that's what I said,” you reply with a bark, struggling to maintain your stance and what little courage you'd mustered to stand up to him.

You notice how Sukuna drops his arms and falls silent. Something inside you wants to continue arguing or just talk to someone. When you get “home”, you're just sitting on the bed staring at the ceiling, counting the times your room is illuminated by the lights of the cars passing by on the avenue or swiping on tiktok until you fall asleep.

You try to find an excuse to talk to him again, but you run out of ideas as you see him turn his back to you, checking the road up and down to make sure no vehicles are coming.

“Okay. I'll see you next week,” he says before crossing to the other side.

“Wait...” you call out to him, but Sukuna is about to reach the other sidewalk. He doesn't stop when you call out his name, even though you know he's listening. You step forward and shout again, a little louder this time. “Can you take me home?!”

Sukuna stops and turns slowly. You wish someone could wipe the ridiculous smile off his face and the incredulous expression he has right now. You instantly regret asking for his help.

You both wait patiently for the approaching cars to drive away in opposite directions, leaving you again in silence.

“What was that? I don't think I heard you,” Sukuna mutters, squinting his eyes and bending his body forward a bit.

You check both ends of the road before walking across and finding yourself face to face with him.

“I think I missed the bus,” you mumble hastily, a little embarrassed. “Please,” you add, doubting whether politeness will make any difference on this occasion. After all, you're dealing with Sukuna; you don't think being nice and kind will work with someone like him, so you opt to offer a bribe. “I'm going to pay you.”

“I don't need your money, brat,” he spits as soon as the words are out of your mouth, looking outraged when you look him in the face again.

“Can you stop calling me that?” Sukuna chuckles, clearly amused with a situation that you don't find funny at all. Your life is falling apart to pieces with every passing second, but to him it's a circus. “What's so funny?”

"Are you always so serious? It's a little annoying that you don't know how to take a joke; I wouldn't be surprised if you had no friends."

You want to slap him, even though you know it wouldn't make any difference. You've felt him behind you, leaning against your back, his firm hands holding your hips and helping your movements flow, so a slap on his shoulder would be in vain, it would only make him laugh.

Now you want to slap yourself regretting that you decided to talk to him in the first place, that you showed yourself vulnerable. 

“Are you going to take me or not?” you insist.

“Give me your address.” Sukuna pulls his phone out of one of his front pockets and types as you give him the direction. Exactly three seconds later he exclaims, “Are you staying in a motel? I thought you had money.”

You don't know how much more you can take before you explode; you clench your fists some more, trying to contain your anger.

“I don't think that's really any of your business.”

You stand in silence for another while. He checks his phone while you watch him. The sign behind him above your heads is decorated with pink neon lines that flashes forming the name of the restaurant.

Sukuna sighs wearily, catching your attention. “Okay, join me in ordering something to go first.”

Sukuna doesn't wait for you to complain or agree with his proposal before he starts walking ahead of you, his steps slow and unhurried. You decide to follow him at a distance that gives the impression that you are not together.

With an open hand, Sukuna pushes open the transparent door and a bell announces the entrance of new customers. The place is immersed in an elegant and serene atmosphere; the aroma of rice floats freely in the air, filling your hungry stomach that growls for a mouthful of whatever they are cooking. Aside from three girls at the counter taking their orders, there are no customers other than the two of you.

You let Sukuna move on as you stop to admire the details of the place. The walls are painted in warm tones that emulate natural wood, and the ceiling has hanging paper lamps that create soft lighting.

The low murmur of water in a small koi pond in the center of the room catches your attention. You approach and watch the fish swimming freely in the water currents; you bend down to observe one in particular that appears to have a scar on one of its fins. You squint your eyes and move closer to the pond to check if the fish is okay, but at that moment the light of the restaurant is interrupted by the body weight of someone overshadowing it.

When you look up, you find Sukuna scowling at you. You don't understand what that look means and decide not to insist on deciphering it. You straighten up to try to match his height.

“Let's go.”

“So soon?” it seemed like they were waiting for him.

You watch his hands, holding a white paper bag with the restaurant's logo on the top. Then you notice the girls who seem to share a secret as they murmur, barely disguising that they are looking at you.

Sukuna continues to stare at you, so you decide not to say anything else and simply nod at his silent command. You make your way to the door and the bell rings again as you leave the place.

“Where's your car?”

You catch him grinning. Maybe you've said something he finds curious, or maybe he just wants to tease you because he can; being rude seems to come naturally to him after all. You let him lead the way and trace the way as he rummages for some keys in the back of his jeans, all the while heading towards the back of the restaurant.

Suspicious, you look around to make sure there is someone nearby who can help you if necessary. Amazement assaults you as you discover that in the back there is a parking lot, and there, in the middle of the empty spot, you see a bike. It's a shiny, black sportbike with red accents, sleek and modern looking.

The realization dries your throat.

“Is that yours?”

“Yup,” he looks amused and almost proud to actually own such a beautiful and imposing bike. You could taste the teasing tone in his voice and in the way he hurried his footsteps away from you, and you struggled to keep up with him.

Sukuna got on the bike and inserted the keys immediately, while you stood motionless, watching him hold it up with his feet so it wouldn't fall off.

“What are you waiting for?” He didn't have a helmet for himself, much less for you. He wasn't wearing gloves either, and that was perhaps the reason why his hands always felt rough when you had skin-to-skin contact when dancing.

You looked around you, meeting the vast nothingness again, as if you were asking the universe for help.

“I've never been on a bike,” you confessed to him without a filter.

You didn't know what to expect when you blurted that out, but it definitely wasn't Sukuna staring silently at you, stabbing you with those dagger-red eyes. 

“So what, are you scared? C'mon, come on up.”

You sighed deeply in surrender and climbed up the bike trying to touch him as little as possible, but always failing on the spot. Sukuna jerked a little along with the bike as you tried to improve your posture behind him, trying to lower what you could of your tutu so it wouldn't fly off when he started driving.

Eagerly waiting for him to pull you away, you slide your hands down his hips and cling to his body in search of a safety that immediately greets you. The engine growls like a beast making your whole body vibrate, you cling tighter to him closing your eyes tight for a moment before letting out a sigh. 

“Hold on tight,” he says, at the same time rolling his hand across the throttle.

You crinkle the fabric of his sweater under your fingers clinging to him as if your life depended on it. As he moves forward and picks up speed on the road, you hide your face in his back finding the same security as a few moments ago when you allowed yourself to sob into his chest. 

The last thing you expected on a monotonous Thursday night was to end up like this, hugging Sukuna who is the last person you would ask for help, right after having the second worst day of your life. You allow yourself to relax in his presence now that you are not looking at him and now that your thoughts are overpowered by the sound of the wind against your ears. 

You don't have time to elaborate any more nostalgic thoughts as Sukuna slows down and you are forced to return to the present, raising your head over his shoulder to check where you are. It was already completely dark when you arrive at the motel, and as you step into the gloom, you make out the dim lights flickering in the distance, indicating the other rooms that must be inhabited by people like you, with no settled place to go or belong.

“You can leave me here,” you indicate speaking slowly, longing for the moment when you can step onto solid ground again and return to the safe space that was your motel room, that even if it smelled like cheap detergent and the green apple spray you bought at the nearby gas station convenience store, you've managed to call home these past few months.

Sukuna obediently stops the bike near room 147 and allows you to get off, without asking questions or making conversation, which surprises you. Discomfort washes over you from your feet covered by ballerina slippers, up your cold legs until it reaches your chest.

“Thank you,” is all you say out of kindness. Instinctively you hug yourself, shrugging your shoulders toward your ears in search of some warmth.

Sukuna looks you up and down, and in his eyes you notice that spark of accusation or perhaps contempt, similar to the one you saw in your father the last time he visited you.

You wait for him to finally say something, after long seconds that feel endless, but you interrupt him before he gets the chance.

“I'm quitting.” You don't know why you say that, your body expels it as an automatic reaction, similar to vomiting after a hangover.

You immediately regret it and turn away. Little interested in what he might say next, you hasten your steps to run away from him and hide in your shelter as soon as possible.

“I thought it was allergies.” Bastard. You grind your teeth, clenching your fists. You don't have the energy to fight him; what little of the mask you put on to pretend you're the perfect woman will soon unravel like Cinderella's spell, and you don't want that to happen while you're arguing with him.

“I thought you were a tough girl.” You hear him yell again, as you try to pretend he doesn't exist. You turn left, in the direction of your room, the last one in the whole row.

“I can help.” Those words slow your steps to a complete stop. It takes you a moment to find the courage to turn around, but you finally do, taking a breath of air and looking him straight in the eye.

The distance between you is about the size of a bus, not much, but enough to look like a pair of cowboys about to have a duel and so that anyone listening can pick up on your discussion thanks to the silence of the night.

“Help with what?” you ask, defiantly.

Sukuna looks up at the sky for a moment, as if the answer is in the clouds. Without looking at you, he replies, “To be less of a dick, maybe.” Asshole. “To teach you how to relax once you're under the lights.”

You fold your arms. “If...?”

He grins, clearly amused with how much he's enjoying the situation, and you want to shout into the wind how much you hate him. Now you understand why he doesn't like you; your personalities are very different. You like the summer, he probably likes the cold. He's always teasing and getting under your skin, while you have to constantly fight not to break. You are polar opposites of different worlds.

“If you help me with something.”

“With what exactly?” you ask almost instantly. 

“It's just a favor,” he replies with a shrug.

“What kind of favor?” you insist.

“It's not that kind of favor,” he says with a gesture of annoyance.

“What's in it for you?”

“Can't I help a partner?”

You're tired of playing this game. It's clearly draining your time and energy. You appreciate that he brought you home and behaved with the slightest decency you would expect from an empathetic human being seeing someone cry, but you've had enough. You turn to leave, feeling it's not worth wasting any more time on this. You plan to sleep thinking about your decision and send a letter to the director tomorrow morning. With what little money you have left, you hope to travel back to your home country.

“I need help with my grandfather.” It's as if Sukuna drops a hook that your innocence fishes for. You're not sure what he's referring to, but your curiosity compels you to turn once more and face him. This time, you close the distance with each new unsure step. 

Watching you walk towards him, Sukuna continues. “Monthly he sends fish to Yokohama. The guy who was helping me quit a few months ago, so I've had to do it alone, which is a pain in the ass,” he runs a hand through his tousled hair from the trip, seemingly remembering.

“Why me?”

“Don't think you're special,” he grumbles with a growl, reflecting on what he just said, he adds. “What I mean is, it's a favor for a favor. I'll tutor you on how to improve as a dancer, and you help me with the fish. It's a win-win.”

You hate the idea of training alone with him almost as much as working moving fish, or whatever it is you're going to do, but...that was the only choice you had. It was either this or actually quit and go home empty-handed, face your failure and your father, and break the promise you had made to your mother before she died. Besides, with Sukuna as a sort of watchdog working with you you think maybe Kugawara wouldn't bother you again, though the thought of it happening again makes your skin crawl.

You nod finally, averting your gaze to your feet for a moment. “Okay. When do we start?”

“Tomorrow I'll come by and pick you up around 3:30. We'll do the fish delivery and then we can practice.”

“Okay.”

“Be on time 'cause I hate waiting,” he snorts. 

Maybe working with Sukuna wasn't such a bad idea after all. You spend all day cooped up in that old motel room, watching the cars go by and waiting for the time and days when you have to go train again. It's boring to be stuck in there doing nothing but waiting for the days to pass, so the idea of visiting another city, seeing new places and maybe discovering more about who Ryōmen Sukuna was seems appealing to you; you can't deny it.

There's so much mystery surrounding him that you can't help but be drawn in.

Fri. 4/14 • 5:50PM — 

You mentally cross out what you thought the night before and wish yesterday's version of you had thought more or at least asked more questions before blindly agreeing. Working with Sukuna was terrible, much worse than you imagined before you fell asleep. You hated the fishy smell permeating your clothes, rather, clothes you borrowed from Sukuna belonging to the boy who quit earlier. The uniform was baggy and threadbare: the faded blue T-shirt had sweat stains and stale smell, while the pants are baggy, a bit long and a dull gray color, with a loose belt to adjust the size. 

You wipe the sweat from your forehead with the back of your hand after putting the last box of fish in the restaurant's freezer and being thankful to be done with everything for the day. You restrain yourself from complaining to Sukuna for not making it clear to you exactly what work you would be doing because after all it had been your fault for not asking and trusting unquestioningly. As you bite the inside of your cheek to control your tongue, you realize that inside the colors and patterns are the same as the sushi restaurant across the street from the academy, which makes you think they are probably from the same brand.

Outside, the clear Yokohama sky shows a bright sun toasting your cheeks as Sukuna finishes signing papers behind you. The change of season has the weather undecided, on the verge of leaving winter behind; some spring mornings are warm and the nights, cold.

His shoes clack against the pavement as he approaches you. With a light tap on your forearm, you hear him chuckle, following it up with, “Who knew? I didn't know you could carry so much weight.”

He doesn't wait for your response and continues on his way to the white truck. With your eyes narrowed and your feet begging you for a break, you walk to the waiting, lit truck and slam the door shut. Being in the cold air, with your sore feet now stretched out should feel more comforting. You're protected from the sun's rays and its warmth, and the spicy apple air freshener is pleasant enough to make you forget that it's spring. However, the situation is not entirely delightful for you. 

Sukuna next to you seems immune to the silence that you find so uncomfortable. You take a quick glance at him and find him staring down the road as he drives back to town. He has one hand curled around the steering wheel and the other resting on his leg. His uniform is different from yours; his consists of an impeccable white shirt and blue pants tailored to fit him navy blue, on the left side at chest height he has the restaurant's name written on it. 

Now that his shirt sleeves are rolled up, you can make out the tattoos on his wrist: two thick black rings run along his skin. Being so close to him and noticing the black ink permeating the skin makes you wonder if they hurt him much. The thought that he probably has more tattoos on areas of his body that you can't see thanks to the clothing comes into your head, but you'd rather push that image away and look straight ahead.

Traffic is moving slowly, with seas of vehicles coming and going on a dual carriageway Sukuna has to slow down every so often because the cars stop which makes you understand that you will be stuck here for a while. Bored with the silence and not wanting to be the first to speak, you take the liberty of turning on the radio, jumping from station to station before finding one that plays old romantic music.

Sukuna makes a snorting sound, prompting you to look directly at him. When your gazes meet, you'd rather ignore the feeling in your stomach and the cocked grimace you manage to notice on his lips before he undoes it.

“What?” you ask him, surprised that your tone doesn't sound as dismissive as usual. “I can find another station if...”

“It's my grandfather's favorite,” he confesses to you quietly. “That one's fine.”

Your fingers slowly move away from the radio, processing what he's confessed to you and considering that this might be a window into getting to know him better.

“You said you were helping him —  is this his business?”

Sukuna hums as if weighing the words, tapping the steering wheel a couple of times. “Yes.”

You blink slowly. “Do you guys have a lot of time in the market?”

“Yes,” he repeats again and you fill your lungs with the smell of spicy apple and his subtle cologne.

You resign yourself to having a monosyllabic conversation with him so you press your lips together and rest your chin on your hand looking out the window. From where you are, you can admire the horizon and the still blue water being illuminated by the intimate rays of afternoon sun. Seagulls circle the shore and you imagine their deep song filling the bay.

“I can't remember the last time I went to the beach.” You wanted to dip your feet in the water, let the waves massage them from side to side, feel the sand between your toes and the sun warming your skin—

“Honestly, me neither. Since I've been working with fish, the beach seems less exciting to me, I don't know if that makes sense.”

You look at him, did you just say that out loud? Sukuna watches you briefly before turning his eyes back to the road. You contemplate him longer than you need to before looking straight ahead again and watching the traffic move a little faster than before.

“Have you guys always worked with this?” you perk up to ask again, still keeping your gaze straight ahead.

“Seafood?” he seems to think, humming aloud. “The restaurant has been in the family for as long as I can remember. So...yeah.”

“That's strange. I never would have imagined you doing this kind of work.”

“Why?” he chuckles, as if sharing a secret with himself.  

“You're so good at dancing,” you admit, giving him a fleeting glance. “I didn't think you do anything more than that.”

“The best,” he instantly corrects you and you physically force yourself not to roll your eyes. 

“I thought you were a spoiled rich kid.”

You turn to catch him grimacing in annoyance. Clearly, he was conflicted about what you had just said.

“I like to dance, but I've always worked hard since I was little. Everything I know and everything I do I learned from my grandfather.”

“It's just the two of you?”

You notice him frowning and speed up quickly before the light turns red. His lips open, but before he can respond, he stops the truck abruptly causing the boxes in the back to rampage and crash into each other as Sukuna shouts insults at the bicyclist who sped in front of him.

You admire him for a while longer: pursed lips, furrowed brow and hands tense around the wheel. Then, you turn your gaze ahead to catch the cyclist fleeing in front of you at full speed, now barely a distinguishable silhouette. Wasting no time, Sukuna sets off down the road again as you wonder what it was he was going to answer. Now, curiosity towards him beckons you that much more.

As Sukuna turns at an intersection to return to Tokyo, you mentally review the information you have about him:

He really loves his grandfather, of that you are left in no doubt since he is the person he mentions the most, he is the only person he talks about in fact. Also, does he cook? You make a mental note of that with a question mark next to it because you're not sure if he just drives the truck or if he really knows how to cook. Third and probably most important, he's not as bad a person as you thought he was. Yes, you still feel like fighting with him and contradicting him at the slightest argument, but that's because of resentment built up over the months. If you were meeting him today for the first time or even if you actually worked for him, you would be encouraged to recognize him as introverted at best, which makes you wonder if the person you see in the academy is just part of the show. Could this be his true personality? And what else is hidden underneath the mask?

The rest of the trip passes in silence as you immerse yourself in your thoughts and theories. The radio station gradually changes from romantic music to more danceable current pop songs, causing you to hum all the way and move your body gently to the melody.

“Are you too tired?” asks Sukuna, once you are on the main road into town.

“Yeah. Why?” you grumble with a grunt, stretching your arms above your head and swinging your feet in circles.

He nods, pondering. “I'll take you to the motel then. We can train later.”

“Oh, no. I'm ready to start today.”

Suddenly, you don't feel so tired when it comes to dancing. You don't want to wait any longer to start practicing and improving, and the truth is, the longer you go without improving, the faster the day of the final presentation comes.

Sukuna pulls into the parking lot of a tall building, moving inside the place illuminated by white lights until he comes to a complete stop next to the bike that you instantly recognize as his.

You get off the truck first with your bag slung over your shoulder, shake your feet again and perform brief stretches as you wait for Sukuna who passes by you walking certainty towards the elevator; you follow him like his shadow.

“You live here?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I thought we were going to train,” you say, wondering if his apartment will have enough space. 

“We will.”

“But...”

“Have you been told you ask too many questions?”

You fall silent as you stand inside the elevator and he presses a button that immediately turns gold, the elevator jolts smoothly and begins to slowly travel through each floor until it reaches number ten. The doors open along with a soft chime, and Sukuna is the first to step out guiding you to his floor.

The apartment complex is modern and elegant. The walls are adorned with dark wood paneling and a floor made of synthetic fur. Sukuna walks confidently down the hallway and you follow him noting the numbered doors with sleek steel plates. When you reach the door to his apartment, he takes his keys out of his pocket and inserts them into the lock opening the door with a quiet click.

He invites you in first with a nod and as you do so you find a well-decorated and tidy space, perhaps somewhat different from what you had imagined. The polished wood floor is covered by a neutral-toned carpet; the room has contemporary furniture and a wall adorned with framed photographs.

You discreetly observe your surroundings, longing to linger a little longer observing the photographs on the wall and get to know his family, however Sukuna keeps moving in front of you without giving you time to get a chance to do so. 

“I knew you were a rich kid...”

He chuckles softly. “Come.” Sukuna guides you into a hallway and stops in front of a wooden door. “Shower,” he instructs you as he sees your confusion, struggling not to flash another one of those smiles you'd grown accustomed to. “You stink of fish. Get changed, I'll be waiting for you on the terrace.”

A bitter resistance dies on your tongue. The lingering smell of raw fish clings to your clothes like an unwanted shadow. You decide not to protest that just this once he is right and instead turn your back on him, clinging to your bag as you walk into the bathroom.

You decide to take a quick shower using the first liquid soap you find on top of the sink, scrubbing your body with your hands and quickly wetting your hair to freshen it up a bit, making a note to wash it properly when you get to the motel.

When you're done, you emerge from the bathroom in one of your practice outfits that fits snugly to your body for flexibility. You tie your hair up in a high bun so it won't bother you and head with determination towards the terrace where Sukuna was waiting for you.

The sunset tints the sky with reddish hues, creating a celestial spectacle among the clouds. The terrace is decorated with potted green plants and comfortable armchairs with cushions piled at the back, leaving enough space to move around without bumping into furniture. 

Dim lights hang from the ceiling, subtly illuminating the space. And in the background, soft instrumental music plays, similar to what the academy plays. Sukuna is sitting stretching his legs out on the floor in a V-shape, and with a barely perceptible gesture of his lips, he invites you to join him and imitate his movements. He bends his body gracefully and at will, and you do your best to keep up as good as you can.

Then, he stands gracefully and offers you his hand, drawing you to his chest.

“Your problem is that you don't trust me. You don't trust that I'm going to hold you when you jump...” You're ready to respond, but your lips seal when he continues. “So we need to fix that.”

The way he says it makes you shudder; you don't want to give in, but you know you have no choice now.

To the beat of the music, Sukuna wraps his hand around your waist and you mimic his steps— circles, one... two... until he stops and asks you to jump, but you hesitate, visibly trembling in his arms.

“Trust me,” he asks you with a serene exhale.

“I can't,” you reply, wetting your dry lips. Sukuna follows each stroke of your tongue before returning to your eyes, where the lashes fuss uneasily.

“You have to trust me as much as I trust you.”

Yet inside you, feelings of doubt and fear linger, like foolish specters whispering in your ear. You feel overwhelmed, not only by the pressure and responsibility on your back but by the closeness of your bodies, there is no space between your chests and if he leans in a little closer you could taste his breath.

“I can't,” you stammer, pulling away from him. “I think it was a bad idea to come,” you admit truthfully, letting your worries slip out loud.

Without you moving further away, his hands hold your wrist firmly making you spin around, and your tiptoed feet respond at once. He holds you still close to him, your back pressed against his chest rocking to the rhythm of the instruments.

“Jump.” Your heart races and you decide to close your eyes to concentrate on the drums pounding against your ribs, on the breath tangling in your lungs. His hands move up and down your waist, go to your ribs where he feels your heaving breath expand his palms. “Take a deep breath,” he speaks sweetly, his breath brushing the shell of your ear. “I'm not going to let you fall this time. I swear.”

You take a deep breath processing the words. could you really trust his promise? You feel his hands come back down to your waist and with the help of his hands exerting pressure, you jump up and he gracefully lifts you above his head. For an instant, you contemplate the city stretching out beneath your feet, like a blanket of light and shadow. Your arms spread like wings, and a spontaneous laugh escapes your lips as the wind caresses your skin. Gently, Sukuna lowers you to the ground once again and you watch a proud smile form on his face. 

Together, the two of you capture the sunset from the terrace, sharing that ephemeral moment in silent complicity.

When you finish practicing about three more times, you find yourself lying on the ground, breathing shakily as you watch the sky dotted with bright spots. Sukuna has disappeared inside his apartment, turning on the lights and returning with a bottle of water that he kindly offers you.

“Thank you,” you say, immediately popping the bottle into your mouth.

“You're not too bad,” Sukuna comments with his usual calmness, though beads of sweat on his forehead betray his exertion. It's obvious why he's Kurogawa's top student.

“I really mean it. Thank you.”

Sukuna averts his gaze for a moment before turning back to you. “Are you going to stay for dinner?” he asks instead.

“I'm fine...,” you reply, finally getting up from the floor and dusting off your clothes with your hands.

“I hope you're eating something better than soda and canned food at that stinky motel.”

You both share a knowing chuckle, your gazes intertwined for a moment.

“No promises,” you say, raising your hands to chest level. “But I have to go now. Thanks for everything, again,” you add, taking another long drink of water.

“Do you need a ride?” offers Sukuna.

“I'll get an uber.”

Sukuna nods, walking you to the door where he waves you off with a friendly smile.

What the hell was that all about? And why are you about to throw up your heart?

Sat. 4/14 • 6:32 pm — 

The second week training with Sukuna has been a revelation. You've gotten used to the smell of fish that you now find less unbearable, to getting up early before the alarm goes off, and you've even gotten used to the horrible oversized uniform you have to wear, but above all, you've gotten used to Sukuna's presence and his training sessions that bring you closer and closer together. Of course, you have improved remarkably. Sukuna is a born teacher and could surpass Kurogawa when he decides to retire. He knows just what to say to make you feel comfortable in your own skin and relax in his arms, which he has succeeded in doing. 

As you get to know him better, you realize that he is not the image you had created in your head. He is considerate and has managed to get you to open up to him a little more, tearing down the shell of animosity you had raised. Before, you were fighting a non-existent battle against him, a fight to be the best that now you only keep against yourself.

With the descent of disdain for him came something more.... Appreciation? Admiration, perhaps? You don't want to acknowledge what that emotion is. For now, you cling to the idea that you can be friends, that you could become good friends in time.

With the practices and the unofficial ones you do with your dance partner, your steps become more natural, loose and fluid. Soon, your movements will resemble those of the fantastic swan you are meant to emulate.

Sukuna spins you around with the climax of the violins resounding above you. Thanks to constant practice on his terrace he manages to lift you into the air with ease, getting you for the first time to not hesitate and leap gracefully into his arms which gets you a round of applause from your colleagues, drawing a proud smile on your face. Your chest is pounding, you feel the excitement in the darkness of the theater and, in a far corner, you can glimpse the ghost of your mother clapping proudly. You were really going to make it. 

Sukuna helps you touch the floor once more, and because of the intimacy required for the final scene, your faces are inches apart. The sound of muffled applause, the circular spotlight that focuses on you exclusively, and the scent of his cologne (a subtle blend of woody and citrus notes that awakens your senses), make the moment far more intimate than the scene requires.

Unsure if this is still part of the performance, Sukuna brushes the tip of his nose against yours before finally pulling away, leaving you drifting beside him and depriving you of his body heat. Slow clapping comes from the background in the gloom, and you walk away from Sukuna taking long strides as if you've been caught committing a crime, your hands sweaty and your stomach clenched.

“That was much better,” Kurogawa says, praising you both, though he looks directly at you. “A wonderful presentation.”

“Thank you,” Sukuna replies, and you feel him tense beside you as he holds the director's gaze that's still resting on you like a predator.

“Though you still have a lot of room for improvement,” Kurogawa says, looking straight at you. Your lips tighten into a straight line, feeling some disappointment in your chest.

“I think she's doing very well,” Sukuna interjects, looking Kurogawa up and down before exhaling like a raging bull. 

Kurogawa watches Sukuna and then clicks his tongue.

“Ryōmen, can you remind me who the director of the ballet is and who is recognized as the best male category ballet dancer in the entire country?” Sukuna falls silent, and you are unable to ignore his clenched jaw. “Sorry, I didn't hear you.”

Sukuna exhales and replies sarcastically. “You are, sir.”

“That's what I thought,” he replies, savoring the victory, still keeping his eyes on you. “So when I say something needs to get better, it's because it's going to get better. You can all go..., my little swan, you stay a few minutes with me, we need to talk.” 

Sukuna's eyes are pulled from the director to fall on you. Under the spotlight you notice his red eyes become darker, dark ink spills into them and at the same time his half closed eyelids give him the aura of a feline. You nod, assuring him wordlessly that you will be fine. 

The room gradually becomes empty, you are the only ones present. Kurogawa tucks himself back into the darkness while you stand under the burning light of the spotlight that seems to glow now brighter than ever. Suddenly, the sound of the piano climbs the walls again and makes your skin tingle. 

“Again,” he orders you. 

Immediately you put your back straight facing the theater seats. Your feet automatically tiptoe, your arms move in the air, move up your body and stop above your head. Your movements are much more fluid and you can feel it; you are more flexible than before or maybe you always have been and all you needed was a little push. A vote of confidence. 

The thought that you will have your little ritual with Sukuna tomorrow (he cooks for you after you help him deliver the fish and after your practice), puts a smile on your face and helps you relax, ignoring the presence of Kurogawa who follows you with his sharp eyes every time you move.

The clacking of his shoe heels tells you he's getting closer, and a subtle sense of dread comes over you as you wonder what Kurogawa might be thinking or planning.

“Are you two dating?” He asks suddenly, wrapping his hands around you behind your back in imitation of the role Sukuna plays. 

"I don't have to justify my personal life, sir." Your reply is quick and sharp, cutting through the awkward tension. 

He laughs dryly. “Because that would be a problem. I wouldn't allow my lead dancers to have an affair, that would be problematic.” He steps closer to you undoing the space between you and grabs your waist from behind, you instantly pull away looking at him with your eyebrows together. “Hold still.” He steps closer again, you take another step back, about to be engulfed by the darkness. 

“Sir...” 

He pauses under the spotlight, his few gray hairs and greasy locks gleaming in the direct brightness. The light highlights the deep lines of his face, accentuating his intense, commanding expression. His piercing gaze seems to cut through you as he calls out your name.

“Come here. Let me show you what you're doing wrong,” Kurogawa says in a tone that combines authority and criticism.

“I think I'm doing a good job,” you insist, trying to maintain your composure.

“Oh, you think Ryōmen is a better teacher than I am? He's been putting ideas into your head?” he asks wryly.

“I mean no disrespect, but...” you start to say, but you're interrupted.

“Girl,” he says with disdain, “Come here.”

“No,” you reply firmly, burying your feet on the stage. 

The director smiles mischievously. “The cat is showing her claws, I see,” he mutters. “You know he's no good for you?” he continues. “So if you're sentimentally involved...I'm afraid I'll have to degrade you both from being the lead dancers.”

You sense that his threats make you feel lightheaded. “You wouldn't do that,” you say with a hint of desperation.

“Be a good girl then.”

“We'll present in exactly two weeks, no one can take my place,” you defend yourself, looking for an excuse that will convince you more than him that he can't do this. 

“Mei-Ling is ready. We've been... practicing,” he says with a lopsided grin that makes you cringe.

“You're disgusting,” you reproach him, unable to keep pretending that standing here in front of him listening to his innuendos doesn't have your body chilling. 

“You have no idea,” Kurogawa replies, widening a mischievous smile. “Now...”

He approaches you with clear intentions of touching you, you look around for something you can defend yourself with or someone who can come to your aid but the room was empty, there was only you there. You keep shuffling your feet until you run into the wall, until the darkness has covered you both and all you can see is his macabre smile. 

Kurogawa reaches out to grab you when Sukuna's voice startles you. He says your name for the first time and you look over the director's shoulder to see him on the other end in casual gray joggers and a white t-shirt. “Is everything okay?” he asks looking directly into your eyes and for a moment it's just the two of you. 

Your voice breaks and you can't answer him, but your desperate look tells him everything he needs to know. 

“This is private training, Ryōmen. You may leave now.” 

Still he pays no heed. He advances towards you with the bag where he kept his clothes hanging from his left shoulder, sukuna stops and plants himself next to you; his arms embrace your shoulders and he sticks you to his body. “Do you wanna leave?” He asks, looking up at you directly. 

“Yes.” You reply without hesitation or pausing to look at the director. 

“Ow look at that? Isn't that romantic?” he laughs dryly, clapping his hands together sarcastically. “Long live lovers, right? From hate to love is only one step, I guess.” 

Sukuna ignores Kurogawa's words, removing his hand from your shoulders to take yours and lead you away. Surprise flashes across your face, but his warm grip turns the initial coldness into a comforting sensation, making your heart race in your chest. You don't resist and squeeze his fingers tightly as you pull away.

The man laughs louder again, turning to look at you just as you reach the small stairs that would lead you off the stage. “Don't even bother coming back, you're fired,” he shouts arrogantly.

You search Sukuna's eyes to make sure he's feeling the same fear you are. For a moment, doubt crosses your eyes and you consider turning around and apologizing as the only option in this situation. But Sukuna avoids your gaze, releasing your hand to address the director.

“If you have something to say, say it now,” Kurogawa spits with a triumphant smile on his face.

Sukuna climbs the stairs again, leaving you paralyzed in the middle of the steps. His movements seem more imposing under the contrasting lights, and as he approaches the principal, you can see Kurogawa's smile widen in pleasure.

Sukuna takes a deep breath, running a hand through his pink hair to pull it back before turning and connecting a closed fist against the director's jaw. Kurogawa falls to the ground, coughing and wiping blood from a split lip. There is hatred and resentment in his eyes as the two men stare at each other for a moment, right before Kurogawa spits out blood mixed with saliva that was pooled in his mouth.

In that moment of tense silence, you stand watching in horror, both hands covering your mouth. Sukuna spits towards the ground and then turns away, wiping his hand and knuckles. He walks past you and with a hand on your lower back, guides you out of there.

“Let's get the hell out of here,” Sukuna mutters.

“Are we just...?” you try to say, but Sukuna interrupts you.

“Are you okay?” he asks with concern. You nod, unable to say much more. “That's all I care about,” Sukuna concludes as you walk away from the place.

You didn't want to go back to the motel. With your dreams crushed so easily in front of you, the last thing you want is to be alone with your self-destructive thoughts and a judgmental memory. The director always seemed a little strange to you and now you tag the way he approaches you as unprofessional but you never thought he could go to the extreme of cornering you like that; however, seeing him lying on the floor, bleeding, brings accusatory thoughts into your head that you want to erase. Your memories betray you showing you more blood than there really was. In his eyes was written pure revenge, you knew that with his influence only one mail was enough to destroy both your career and your life. You don't want to think about the consequences of your actions; at least not tonight, not now. So when Sukuna asks where you want to go and you reply that you don't know, he decides to take matters into his own hands and take you on a bike ride around the city. Neither says anything else and you ask no questions, letting the vibrations of the engine and his body under your fingers make you feel safe.

Your cheek is crushed against his broad back, clinging to his waist as much as you can as you watch the lights of the city and its tall buildings go by like flashes. People come and go and your heart sinks a little in your chest each time Sukuna's fingers roll easily across the throttle. Water pools in your heavy eyelashes and you can't decide if it's from the wind or if it's just sadness and the pile of bitter disappointment you force yourself to swallow.

Sukuna stops at a gas station, you wait leaning against the bike while he pays and buys some sweets that he silently passes to you as an offering. You open the colorful wrapper and pop the chocolate into your mouth, chewing silently as you are distracted by the dust clinging to his boots.

“Do you wanna go to my place?” The question surprises you and his voice invites you to look at him, back to the present. You notice his face and are distracted by the soft pout that forms his lips unconsciously. In the short time you've known each other, you've noticed it's something he does often. A habit.

You assume that you are friends now. You find the situation and the question ironic. If an oracle had told you about eight months ago that you'd be taking bike rides with Sukuna, clinging to his back like a baby koala bear, driving with him every day out of town while jamming karaoke in his fish-smelling truck and hanging out at his apartment, you'd never have believed it. 

Finally, you shake your head in affirmation, taking another bite of the bar.

“I hate that motel,” you confess, covering your mouth.

“I know. It smells like a shoe, I don't know how you can live there.”

You regret letting him into your humble room. Everything was tidy and perfectly sprayed with that green apple spray you depend on so much now, but you still saw him pinching his nose with two fingers and commenting on the stench. You'd complained before, of course, and the owner told you he'd move you to another room as soon as it became available, but now that was the only one you could be in; the room is at the back, next to the laundry room and the damp lurks through the walls, ending up sitting in the middle of your floor.

“Hey!” It really did smell awful, but it wasn't funny when others made fun of it. “It's all I can afford for now. Sorry I'm not rich like you.”

“I thought you were rich,” he says, playing with his bruised knuckles as the numbers on the screen behind him keep going up.

“Not anymore,” you confess, distant memories of your life coming back to you in a flash. “My father refuses to help me with academy expenses, he sees it as a waste of money and time, and I guess he's right. I only have enough to live for two more months there, I was looking forward to the ballet performance but now…” Your voice trails off, unable to finish the sentence.

You notice how he leans over to gently tap you on the shoulder with the same hand that punched Kurogawa earlier.

“We're going to fix it, brat. No long faces while I'm around.”

You contemplate him a while longer in silence as you finish eating the chocolate bar and clench the wrapper in your fist to throw it in the trash when you're at his apartment. Once the tank is full, you roll back down the road and seven minutes later you are in the warmth of his apartment.

You take off your shoes as you enter and head straight to the living room after Sukuna asks you to sit down and he goes straight to the kitchen. You take the opportunity to look at the various photographs on the bluish wall that you have always wanted to see up close but he has never let you: a small Sukuna clutching a baseball bat smiles at the camera, his hair tousled as if it's been a windy day, and his hands tightly wrapped around the bat. There's another where he's with who you assume is his grandfather in front of the restaurant near the academy, clutching a fish that's bigger than both of them which makes you chuckle under your breath. In the last one, there's him and another boy who looks very like him, both wearing thick coats with faux fur edges and looking at the camera with surprised expressions.

“Your brother?” you ask as you hear his bare feet moving across the floor and, turning to face him, you find him with two plates full of sushi rolls in his hands. “Thank you,” you smile at him, sliding onto the couch.

“Be careful not to drip the sauce on my couch, brat,” he jokes. You want to complain about the not-so-pleasant name he calls you by, but you keep silent, hiding the sense of longing that overwhelms you as you want to hear him say your name again. “And my nephew,” he quickly points to the picture before disappearing back into the kitchen. “It was the first time we went to New York.”

You take another quick glance at the picture and grab the wooden chopsticks next to your plate.

“Nephew... So you have siblings?” You ponder, pinching a sushi roll between your chopsticks and bringing it to your mouth, careful at all times not to drop anything on the couch. For how neat the place looks, you know he's not kidding when he warns you that he doesn't want any stains on his couch.

Sukuna returns with a bottle of wine and two glasses in his hands, as he carefully sets them on the coffee table.

“I'm not going to drink,” you quickly excuse yourself.

“Come on, let's celebrate that we don't have practice tomorrow.”

His humor helps you cope a little. You press your lips together in a straight line that gradually turns into a sad smile and finally nod, giving your permission for him to pour the white wine for both of you. You grab the glass without further thought and take a long drink, closing your eyes for a moment.

“And... um,” he clears his throat, taking a seat next to you to get ready to eat as well. “I had a brother. I lost him and my parents in an accident when they were on their way from Kyoto to see me dance last year.”

The news makes you frown and you set the cup aside immediately, showing your concern. Sukuna seems immune; anyone who didn't know him would say he's over it, that he doesn't care, but you've learned to see past the mask he usually shows himself to others with. Hesitantly, you put your hand on his leg in comfort and something inside you waits for him to push it away, only it never happens. He looks down at your touch for a moment before returning to your eyes.

“I'm so sorry.”

His shoulders shrug and he finally relaxes. “At least I have my grandfather for now.”

You nod, understanding how bitter the situation is as it's easy to put yourself in his shoes.

“I'm really sorry. I lost my mother too; she had a medical condition that had no cure. Her dream was always to see me dance at a professional academy.”

“Is that why you traveled to Japan?” asks Sukuna before popping a sushi roll into his mouth.

“Yeah. But I guess it doesn't matter now.”

“I told you we're going to fix it,” Sukuna says and now it is him placing his hand on your thigh intimately. You watch as his fingers spread over your skin, noticing the veins running down the back of his hand and the thick tattoos surrounding his skin.

“You punched him in the face,” you look away from his fingers to force yourself to look him in the eyes, both of you sharing a brief chuckle. “How can we fix this?”

Sukuna is no longer touching you and his absence is immediately felt.

“We can report him,” he suggests.

“They won't listen to us,” you reply.

“Not with that attitude.”

You look away from him for a moment, toward your plate and the half-empty cup. You grab it and raise it to your mouth to wet your throat.

“Thank you... for everything,” you say sincerely, swirling the glass so that the liquid spirals against the glass.

“I should never have left you alone,” Sukuna admits.

“But you came back for me. That's the important thing,” you reply, restraining yourself from touching him again. Instead, you take a last sip of wine that serves to drown out thoughts of what would have happened if no one had arrived in time.

With banal conversations filling the space from time to time and laughter over jokes that aren't even that funny; you both finish eating.

With two glasses of wine drunk and now Sukuna pouring a third everything seems funnier than usual. The sting of the pain of having lost everything you've built is buried there waiting to make you ache and although you know Sukuna feels it too, he manages to disguise it very well, spending all his energies on making your night.

“Stop it,” you tell him with a laugh, squinting to fix your eyes closely on his face. “You've got something there.” You point to a part of your own cheek with a finger, smoothing the skin and wiggling your fingers for him to do the same.

“Where?” he asks, pulling his eyebrows together, touching the wrong part of his face.

“Look, here!” you point to your cheek again with more emphasis, but he still misses.

“Wipe it off for me. What is it?”

“It's just soy sauce, you messed it up more.”

You lean a little closer to wipe the sauce stain next to his nose, carefully rubbing the skin by moving your thumb over it until it's clean. You smile at him, you just need to wash your face now, as you turn your attention back to him you realize he is blatantly looking at your lips.

“Later,” he says softly, licking his lips slowly and alarms go off in your brain.

“It'll get sticky if you don't go,” you reply mimicking his tone, struggling not to notice his mouth and how close you are.

Sukuna slowly makes himself move his gaze from your mouth to your eyes. Still close, you can notice the alcohol on his breath, his scent of cologne tickling your stomach.

“I never understood why you disliked me so much,” he blurts out suddenly, almost in a whisper.

“Are you serious?” you pull away before you do something you shouldn't, the tingling sensation of alcohol probably making you see things that aren't there. “Everything you talked about me?” He arches an eyebrow, showing confusion. “You were saying I should go back to my country...”

“Yeah, because you were saying I had no talent. And who did you think you were?” he defends himself, getting defensive. With that expression that he instantly erases almost makes you remember the Sukuna from the past.

“I never said that.” You defend yourself.

Silently, you both let the weight of realization sink in, sharing a silent stare.

“Kurogawa.” You respond in unison.

“Fuck him,” Sukuna says through gritted teeth. You want to reproach him, but honestly?

“Yeah, fuck him.” Then you both laugh.

Silence reigns between you again, squeezing like an intruder between the little space that separates your bodies on the couch. 

“Are you staying the night?” Sukuna suddenly blurts out, giving you a sideways glance.

“Um, no?” That makes him look at you completely, analyzing you as if you've just said something barbaric.

“I can't ride like this,” he comments with obviousness.

“That's fine, I'll get an uber.”

“I don't trust an uber to send you like that.”

You don't trust yourself around him, you don't trust what your numb senses can do or say, so the farther away you are from him, the better it is for both of you.

“Like what? I'm almost sober,” you say, squeezing a space with your index finger and thumb leaving a small gap in between. “Besides... I know how to defend myself.” To reaffirm your sentence and validate your sobriety, you stand up to take a brief turn but fate is ironic and trips you over your own feet; in an instant your mouth is about to kiss the ground. You squeeze your eyes tightly shut, preparing to receive a stinging pain that never comes, instead, you are welcomed into an embrace that fills you with security.

“Fuck. You're so drunk,” Sukuna says with a laugh, helping you to your feet.

You open one eye. “Sorry, I don't usually drink.” You close it again, massaging with your fingers the sudden dizziness that squeezes your temples. “Maybe I am a little dizzy.”

“I can tell that,” he says. “You should have told me.”

“Um, I did.” You open your eyes now realizing how intimate you are. Your open palms on his chest rise and fall with his agitated exhale and the tension weighs heavy. His hands are on your lower back in a sort of embrace that holds you close to him and keeps you from running away, and you wouldn't even if you could. You hear your own breathing quicken in your ears, and without thinking, you lean in to kiss him but Sukuna lifts his chin avoiding you and kissing your forehead instead.

“Come on, I'll take you to bed.”

Sat. 4/15 • -:- am— 

You wake up with a slight headache pulsing in your temples and the sharp spicy smell of a perfume you don't recognize as your own. Still with your eyes closed, you turn your body to reach for the phone on the bedside table, you stretch your fingers in search of it, but your hands can't seem to find the nightstand, so you struggle to blink slowly and finally open your eyes completely. The unusual darkness confuses you a bit and makes you wonder what time it is; the sun should be penetrating the motel windows intensely at this hour, so you curiously sit up in bed. You look for your phone under the pillow, between the sheets and in every nook and cranny your hands can reach on the mattress.

It is at that moment when you notice the different color of the sheets and the four pillows around you, making you realize that this is not your bed, nor is this your room. Looking at your legs you realize that you are still dressed in last night's clothes, then you remember Sukuna. Your eyes scan the room in the absence of light — were you in his room or maybe he had another guest room? You pull the sheet off your legs and head to the window to open the black curtains and let the sun finish waking you up.

The lively view of the city greets you from below, cars come and go on the fast moving highway. With the help of the light now illuminating every corner, you take another look at the room and find out that this was probably his: the space is spacious and modern, following the same style as the living room with a minimalist decoration. The walls are a light gray and in front of the bed there is an elegant glass desk with an office chair. On top of the desk, there is a closed laptop and some tidy papers. 

The bed is bigger than the one in the motel and is covered with black sheets, next to it a closet with the doors made of a mirror in which you see yourself perfectly reflected, you try to fix your hair as much as you can in case you find him when you go out looking for your phone, but by the prevailing silence makes you aware that Sukuna was probably not at home. 

You find your phone on the floor near the couch. At the memory that it must have slipped out of your pocket when you almost fell last night just to then try to kiss Sukuna, your body burns with embarrassment. Unlocking the screen and looking at the time you find a message from Sukuna and missed calls from your father and group of friends. Shit, you totally forgot them.

R. SUKUNA: If you wake up and I'm not here, take a shower, there are headache pills in the desk drawer and eat something. If you decide to take a bath, use something from my closet. I'm visiting my grandpa, I'll be back in about an hour. :)

Checking the time, you realize that the message was sent half an hour ago so you still had time to be alone and clear your thoughts before he returned. After how absurd you acted last night, you don't want to see him today, not in a few weeks maybe. You don't have the courage to look him in the face, especially after he walked away, making it clear to you where he stood with you.

You return to the room with the phone in your hand and a glass of water you quickly grabbed from the kitchen. You open the first drawer and search for the pills you need stumbling upon some personal items, including two small square wrappers of different texture and metallic blue color. Before an unwanted idea can germinate in your mind, you push the condoms aside and take the pill, drinking every last drop from the glass.

You are determined to leave and escape from him, but the sweat from the previous day clings to your body and you refuse to go out like this. You quickly duck into the familiar bathroom and take a quick shower without getting your hair wet this time, opting only to pull it up in a simple bun and wear the same clothes from the day before. You exit the bathroom determined to take refuge in the motel, walking straight to the front door.

“Good morning.” His voice makes you yelp. You put one hand on your chest and one on your mouth, looking him up and down as if you've seen a ghost, and he has the audacity to laugh.

Sukuna looks fresh, as if he's had a good night's sleep and just got out of the shower. He's wearing a light blue short-sleeved sweater and black sweatpants; the baseball cap covering part of his face makes him look much younger.

“Did you sleep well?” Sukuna speaks again and you hope he didn't notice you looking him up and down.

“Yes, thank you. I had a bit of a headache, but I'm better now. we...?” We sleep together. It's the sentence you don't get to finish.

“The couch is more comfortable than it looks.” He gives you another brief grin and your heart flips.

“I'm so sorry about yesterday.”

You both know what you mean, so neither of you decides to delve into it. He downplays it with a wave of his hand, and you appreciate his friendship now more than ever, so you let that memory die.

“You were drunk...” he excuses you before you have a chance to. 

“Of course, I never...” you stop, unable to finish the sentence.

“I know.”

“How's your grandfather?” you ask him, quickly changing the subject, struggling not to notice the tattoo peeking through the opening near his neck.

“He's much better, actually.”

“I'm glad to hear it,” you say sincerely, forcing yourself to swallow the guilt that's weighing you down inside. He's showing his most vulnerable side with you, and all you can think about is how much you want to kiss his neck.

“There's just one little problem.”

Your eyes narrow and you take a step forward, paying more attention this time. “What's wrong?” you inquire with genuine concern.

“He wants to meet my girlfriend.”

"Oh." You blink slowly, your lips opening and closing as you choose your next words carefully. “You have a girlfriend.” It's a statement. Of course he has a girlfriend. 

“That's where you come in.”

“Excuse me?”

“He always insists that he doesn't like me being alone, that I should focus on other things than taking care of him and the restaurant. To put his mind at ease, I told him I have a girlfriend, I just didn't count on him asking me to meet her. I can only rely on you for that.”

You're flattered, but it's still not enough to hide the fact: “So you lied to him.” You ponder, processing all the information he's blurted out to you.

“Um, no. I'm going to get one, just not now. I'm not sure how long I'll be able to keep him with me and I didn't want to disappoint him.”

You nod slowly. “So, you want us to go visit him?���

“Yes, just once or twice.”

“And for me to act like I'm your girlfriend?”

“Yup.”

You sigh deeply, you massage your eyes with the palm of your hand trying to run away at least for a second from his presence and the effect he has on you; you don't want to keep looking at him and keep thinking about what he is making you feel inside because, what was all that? Sukuna was. your. friend. Why couldn't your hormones understand that and why did you suddenly feel like you would burst if he ever touched you? You finally open your eyes, nod.

“Yeah, okay. I'll help you.”

You don't think about the implications of this, you don't think about the fact that pretending to be his girlfriend makes your heart gallop fast against your ribs when it shouldn't. This is nothing more than an act of good faith, you're just helping a friend. You refuse to consider that you might have to hold his hand, and even the idea of having to kiss him is possible in some scenario.

It's the first time in years that you realize you don't remember the last time you kissed someone. You've been so focused on working, improving and becoming a better dancer every day that you don't remember the last time you had romantic or sexual contact with someone, and you're definitely not ready for Sukuna to be your first.

“I have to go now.”

You have a lot to process.

“Stay for breakfast,” he suggests with that lopsided grimace of his, the one where he doesn't show his teeth but could make you sign a deal with the devil if he wanted to. You have to grip your bag tighter so you don't reach out and touch the inky flash that winks at you again.

“See you later!” you say instead, running for the door.

You don't stop to wait for an answer because you know he would change your mind because that's what he always does (get his way), make you stay and confuse you even more. You pull out your phone and call for an Uber back to the discomfort of your bed, where you can be away from the effect he has on you.

Thurs. 5/10 • 

Meeting Hiroshi in person after hearing so much about him makes you feel like you've already known him for a long time. The smile spreads on his face like ink on water when he sees you, and it's already second nature for him to call you “daughter” as he grabs your hand and cheeks affectionately; he really likes you and you like him back.

Accompanied by Sukuna holding your hand, you always bring him flowers or fruits and listen attentively as Sukuna reads to him and tells him how business is going at the restaurant, while he nods. In a way, he reminds you of your own grandfather; a man just as sweet and hardworking. Seeing this new side of Sukuna is certainly different and addictive. The patient way he talks to his grandfather makes you look at him with admiring eyes; he seems like a totally different man. You have been accompanying him for the last three visits and seeing him spending so much time with his grandfather is becoming a regular habit.

On one of these visits you bump into someone you had seen before in one of the photographs he has hanging in his apartment. Yuuji, much older, much more adult, smiles at you and has the same cheerful expression as his grandfather; he is a boy full of energy who squeezes your hand and shakes it energetically the first time you meet him. He looks a lot like Sukuna and it is impossible for you not to make the internal comparison of how different they are despite being so physically similar. 

On Monday after visiting Hiroshi, exchanging the flowers for new ones and making sure he was enjoying his favorite meal, Yuuji, who was already at the hospital when you got there, invites you over for dinner as a sweet gesture to get to know you better.

The restaurant a few blocks away from the hospital is crowded with people, brimming with a cozy, family atmosphere with polished wooden tables and delicate white tablecloths. The soft murmur of family conversations intermingles with the tantalizing aroma of dishes wafting from the kitchen and traditional music in the background.

“I never thought I'd see Uncle Sukuna with a girlfriend,” Yuuji confesses as he rolls noodles on his chopsticks and brings them to his mouth.

“Hey,” Sukuna growls, finishing the sake in one gulp. “Don't disrespect your uncle.”

“It's not that,” Yuuji laughs.“It's just that you're always so secretive, and after what happened with Dad... but I'm happy for both of you.”He looks at you briefly now as he shakes his head slowly.

Your body twitches softly at the surprise of feeling Sukuna curling his fingers with yours on top of the table. His thumb caresses the back of your hand, and butterflies flutter inside you at the sight of this affectionate gesture, though you quickly remember that it's all part of the act. Getting caught up in the moment and excusing yourself to your inner judge, you gently squeeze his hand, reminding yourself to maintain the role of girlfriend.

As you enjoy dinner, you and Sukuna chat animatedly, sharing anecdotes about Hiroshi, the origin of the restaurant's peculiar name, and Yuuji's antics as a child. The vibe in the restaurant is permeated with warmth and energy, with the bustle of the other tables and the comforting aroma of ramen wafting through the air.

At the end of the meal, Yuuji bids the two of you goodbye with a hug, explaining that he must go elsewhere but that he hopes you will have a second date together.

As soon as he makes sure Yuuji has left the restaurant, Sukuna looks at you with a soft smile. “Thank you for joining me tonight. I know this isn't part of your commitment as a 'fake girlfriend'.”

You smile back, still feeling the warmth of his finger on your skin. “Thank you for letting me meet your grandpa, he's an amazing person, and your nephew is really adorable.”

Sukuna nods, his eyes shining with something you can't decipher. “I know Yuuji really likes you too. I think he likes you more than me.”

You giggle softly, recognizing that this encounter has brought you closer to Sukuna. Meeting one of the most important pillars of his life, along with his nephew, who is practically the only close family he has left, makes you feel lucky to be able to witness this more intimate side of him. You just hope that, when all is said and done and they both realize that you're just his friend they'll still continue to accept you and treat you with the affection that has characterized them so far.

“Maybe I should go back to the motel. It's getting late,” you say, bursting the bubble that had enveloped you out of reality. Being away from him was the last thing you wanted right now, but you needed to remind yourself from time to time that this was not part of your current life.

At that moment, he gently withdraws his fingers from yours and nods with a tense line on his lips.

“Sure. Join me for a smoke first.”

After paying the bill and leaving the restaurant, you both walk to the back with Sukuna gently tugging on your hand, still engaged in an act that should only happen when Yuuji or his grandfather are around. Surrounding you, a few people congregate to talk and share a cigarette.

Sukuna brings the cigarette to his mouth and you help him shield it with your hands as he tilts his head slightly to avoid the wind. The cigarette lights up as he inhales and exhales slowly through his nose, keeping his gaze fixed on you the whole time. He is leaning against the wall and you are close by, standing between his spread legs.

“I'll probably have to go home soon..., my real home, I mean,” you tell him suddenly, preferring to watch the people walking in and out of the parking lot instead of paying attention to him.

“Is it the money?”

You nod still without glancing at him. “I can't wait for it to be over, I already talked to my dad and he also thinks it's for the best.”

Sukuna is silent as he takes another puff and exhales just in time for when you turn back to look at him.

“I've been requesting a recommendation letter for you for another academy. I filed an official report against Kurogawa and we have witnesses, people who had made accusations before but had never filed an official report.”

His name brings back bitter memories that dissolve in the smoke and stale smell of the cigarette.

“I'm going to testify too.” Your voice surprises you as much as it seems to surprise Sukuna, who looks you up and down with curious eyes.

“Fine. I'll be with you.”

“Why didn't you tell me before?”

“I wanted to be sure, I didn't want to get your hopes up.” His eyes turn soft and you can see in them the same shadow that was in them that time in his apartment. He was looking at your lips just like now and he didn't seem to mind hiding it. “You look beautiful, by the way. Yuuji kept looking at you.”

You smile, glancing down at the teal dress you decided to wear that night.

“You don't look bad yourself,” you tell him, touching your fingertips to the oversized wool coat he was wearing. Sukuna follows your fingers as they stumble over the black buttons and away from his body. His eyes follow your hands that stay still on either side of your body and then they return to your face, momentarily checking your mouth.

“Wanna try?” he asks, raising the cigarette to your eye level.

“I've never smoked,” you confess.

“That wasn't my question.” He bites his lip, followed by the tip of his pink tongue moistening his lower lip gently. “You want me to guide you?”

“...Yes.”

“Open your mouth,” his voice comes out quick, eager and sharp almost like yours. His words guide you as you part your lips just enough for him to place the cigarette between them. But instead, Sukuna pulls you closer into him gently squeezing your waist as he exhales smoke into your half-open lips. “Swallow a little bit and then exhale,” he gently commands you. “Don't let it go down your throat.”

You follow his instructions without complaint, holding the smoke for a moment in your mouth before releasing it. The taste of ash floods your palate for a moment, a smell you find unbearable and yet.... “More,” you find yourself asking, rising on tiptoe to reach for the cigarette yourself.

You're sure you're not asking for more of the cigarette, you're asking for more of him. Of the brief touch you get from his unfriendly hands on your body, more of his perfume lulling your senses, more of his closeness. 

His fingers leave your lower back to climb up to your jaw keeping you steady, still and trapped as he exhales a second puff between your parted lips. Your heart flips but you manage to repeat the action of inhaling and exhaling without coughing, and as he prepares to do it a third time without you asking, your noses collide in the darkness of your closed eyes; his lips brush yours for an electric instant, and you feel his fingers clinging tighter to your jaw: breathing out. 

“My God...you,” you stand still, feeling yourself burn inside as his warm breath seeps into you once more. “If you don't stop me, I will do something I will regret.” His words are a threat brushing your tongue. 

Your foreheads meet and rest against each other, fingers guided by desire slipping under his coat where you cling to his shirt ruffling the fabric. You close your eyes waiting to feel him, that first real contact, charged with sparkle and fireworks. You tilt your neck back, giving him the access he needs to take you.

“I'm not going to stop you,” you gasp, pushing closer.

Sukuna growls like an animal, immediately replacing his grip with his lips on your jaw; barely perceptibly grazing the flesh and bringing tickles to your insides. Then he moves slowly up to your ear, outlining the jaw bone with his mouth and staying still behind the shell of your ear, simply breathing warm air.

“We're in public,” he reminds you, and you squeeze your eyes shut. Charged with a bravery that is uncharacteristic of you, you reach your hand toward his crotch, feeling the bulge that is evident through his pants.

“Then let's go somewhere more private.”

Sukuna grunts once more, hunching towards you in such a way that it appears as if he is hugging you. His hands slide down your back until they reach your ass and squeeze it, the people around you startle you but the feeling lasts a moment before you turn your attention back to him and the plea that seems to spill from his throat. 

“What have you done to me?” he utters your name as if you were a divine being and he is a mere servant. Your hand, gaining confidence, presses harder on his erection. “I want to slowly peel off your clothes, worship every inch of your body. Kiss every spot, every mole.”

He abandons the comfort of your ear to move to your neck, where you sense his breath as he subtly pushes his hips against your open palm. It's embarrassing to be doing this in public. His coat and the shadows of the night help hide the scene, but if someone were to discover you, you could get in trouble.

“Tell me you need it too,” he whispers against your throat on the verge of losing his temper and pressing his nose, his eager mouth clinging to your skin; sucking. “Tell me you feel the fire in your chest too,” he gasps, his teeth grazing a little harder.

“Fuck. I feel it. I've wanted to say it for a long time, but I was afraid you wouldn't feel the same,” you lick your lips. “That night when I tried to kiss you...”

“You were drunk,” he interrupts you. “I didn't want you to regret it the next day.” Sukuna reluctantly pulls away to admire you with dilated pupils and parted lips. “But you have no idea how much I've had to restrain myself to act just like a friend.” He examines you up and down. “Let's go to my apartment.”

Holding hands and with feelings running high, you move quickly into the parking lot to find the bike parked a few feet from where you were. Sukuna just lets you go to put the helmet around your head and then proceeds to put his on and without another thought you set off on the road. The cool night air immediately envelops you, the edge of your dress flaps against your thighs thanks to the speed at how fast he was going, almost as quickly as your heart beats in your chest. For you, there's a mixture of excitement and nervousness, a sense of disbelief mixed with anticipation. You can't stop thinking about what just happened, what you've wanted to occur for months and what might happen now.

The drive back to his apartment is fraught with sexual tension. The speed, the wind in your faces and the physical proximity keeps you on edge, your fingers run up and down his chest under his coat, impatient up and down patterns reminding him how close you are. 

As you reach the apartment the palpable excitement between you and Sukuna intensifies. You both quickly slide off the bike, and holding hands take the elevator to his floor. Neither of you say anything until you reach the quiet of his place, interrupted by the hitching of breaths.

Sukuna steps forward and sits on the couch that is now so familiar to you, his eager but controlled expression blurring in the gloom that dances in the living room. From there, he calls your name softly, his voice laden with restrained emotion. The atmosphere in the apartment seems charged with electricity as you approach him, your heart pounding in your chest.

As you get closer, Sukuna watches you carefully, his eyes roaming over every part of you with admiration and desire. 

“Take off your dress,” he says hoarse with lust.  

Without thinking you grab the edge of the dress, slip it over your head and pull it aside to be left with only the underwear you have chosen for the night. As you move forward and are finally in the middle of his spread knees Sukuna grabs your hips and helps you to sit on his lap. The grip on your hips firms and hardens, he takes it upon himself to rub your covered core against the wideness of his thigh and short moans of pleasure take over your mouth.

“Keep riding my thigh. Slowly. Feel that pussy get wet for me, feel it ache,” he indicates, releasing your hips to then worship your thighs up and down. 

Oh. It was aching, you want to tell him. Everything inside you was doing it, burning with need every muscle, every vein. Your legs from the posture, your pussy from need and your tight belly begging for a release but instead you stand quietly contemplating with your mouth open the way, after removing his coat, he undresses the buttons of the sweater one by one finally satiating your curiosity by revealing the tattoo underneath. 

More black marks. They draw you in and invite you to touch them, thick ink-filled lines that you trace under your fingers start at his chest, cross between the line that joins his shoulder and neck and disappear behind along his back. Puzzled you stare at him some more, losing yourself in his eyes as you rise to look at him; he looks still, pleased that you are touching him as if he were art. 

“Did they hurt?” you wonder with a bit of naiveté. 

Sukuna cradles your breasts gently above the fabric of your bra, he seizes the moment to tug on your nipples hard, getting you to moan. 

“They hurt a lot,” he confesses quietly, in a low tone of voice that plays it down. 

You continue tracing the canvas that is his skin, moving down his abdomen until you stumble upon the belt that holds his pants in place. Briefly you check his eyes, hoping they tell you something more than the lust that seems to flood them.

“Why did you decide to get tattooed then?” 

Sukuna catches your gaze silently, his fingers snaking around your belly, walking up to stop in the middle of your thighs and through your panties he strokes your clit with three fingers. 

“We all have to endure a little pain sometimes, don't we?” 

It feels so intimate the way he talks to you, the way he looks at you. When he roams your body with his gaze you can't help but feel small. You rub against his fingers, push and circle them helping him get to know your body better, listening to your broken gasps, showing him exactly where it makes you feel good. 

“I want to suck your cock,” you confess as you reach down to undo his belt. There was no shame binding you now, only a raw desire that longs to be unleashed. 

He smiles pleased with the change in attitude, and silently pushes your hips up to help you remove his pants leaving him alone in a pair of boxers which you soon pull down leaving them tangled midway down his thighs. Sukuna then pulls you off his lap and places you on the side of the couch where he instructs you to spread your legs for him thus getting easy access between your thighs. 

As Sukuna continues to give attention to your pussy, you contemplate how hard he is: more than big it was thick, with the tip of an angry pink throbbing just below your mouth. It had been years since you had last given oral sex to someone, your last few encounters were nothing more than a monotonous thrusting and pulling out where you ended up with the guy cumming on your lower back or stomach; you never felt like sucking their cock but with sukuna it's different. With him everything is. 

“It's been a long time since I've... you know,” you confess, holding back a nervous giggle. 

From below you raise your gaze to lace it to his eyes that receive you slightly closed, sharing a guilty smirk that he wipes away as he bites his lip. 

“You're doing a very good job,” he praises you. And his fingers tossing the edge of your panties aside leaves you breathless for a second, your lip quivering receiving his fingers inside you. “You don't have to do anything you don't want to, though.” 

His words cause you to twitch around two fingers pushing and massaging your pussy. So deep, so slow, he synchronizes his thrusts with the way your lips close around the head of his cock; his movements are precise as if he's searching for something inside you, in, out and then he pulls them all the way out to make you cum as he rubs your clit hard and talks dirty to you. 

Sukuna praises you sweetly as you sob his choked name against his thigh, his caresses surround your now sensitive clit and every time he touches it you find it impossible not to shudder. Then he grabs you by the face and kisses you on the forehead and holding your hand helps you up to guide you to his room that you already knew.

The lamps are off and the only light coming in is through the open window, the curtain ruffles softly in the cool spring breeze sending sudden chills down your bare skin. Sukuna instructs you to lie face down on the bed and you do so as he goes to another side of the room. The mirror you saw earlier shows you your half naked body under the swirling shadows and the masculine scent permeating his sheets makes you sigh deeply. 

The bed sinks with his weight, the mattress groans as he digs his knees into it and positions himself behind you, your ass rising almost without your permission, eager with anticipation. 

“You want to fuck me like this?” you throw your head back to catch him putting on the condom, one of the blue wrappers you saw before is now off to the side near your feet. 

“Fuck yeah. Just lay back, you work so hard...” He snaps, spitting on his wrapped cock and giving it a couple of strokes before spreading your ass cheeks apart. “You want it like this, want me to work to make you feel good?”

“Yes,” you sigh, watching every glimpse that the dim light allows you of his body in the big mirror. 

Slowly he sinks into you and you take it in with a deep moan. “That's it,” Sukuna murmurs, resting his hands on your lower back, initiating gentle thrusts that have your body rocking against the sheets.

Sometimes you feel him so deep you call his name, drunk with pleasure, you hope he understands you're begging him to keep going because you can't speak. Your mind is filled with him, his natural scent on the sheets, the smell of his sweaty perfume, his chest heavy against your back sinking you a little deeper into the mattress. 

“Do you want to fuck yourself a little on my cock?” He says, gently circling your neck with his fingers without actually exerting any real pressure, with his free hand he stimulates your clit and your back arches right away. “Push your ass back, that's it...” 

“I'm gonna cum...” you warn him, gasping with your mouth open, blinking rapidly so as not to lose sight of your bodies reflected in the mirror, fitting together perfectly as they do when dancing.

Your orgasm was still making you shiver the moment he turns you around so that you are facing each other. Sukuna is grinning showing you his sharp fangs, bringing your hands above your head and clasping his fingers between yours he starts fucking you again, your legs on his broad shoulders, his mouth just inches from you. 

“Hi,” he says giggling breathlessly and it catches you immediately. “You look so beautiful now, you look gorgeous when you cum for me...”

His thrusts become deeper, your skins echoing each time they meet. 

“Ryōmen...”

“I know, baby. I feel it too... Do you want me to cum inside?” You nod drunkenly with pleasure, unable to stop staring into those deep red eyes, his lashes fluttering and you notice his jaw tightening. “Yeah? You want to feel my thick load creaming that pussy?” he says, through clenched teeth.

“Yes, oh my god, please.” 

Your fingers run down your stomach and down between your thighs, your fingers graze your clit once giving you the final push you need to cum a third time. 

“Next time we'll do it raw, baby. I promise, but take it like this now, hm; cum for me.”

Your body tenses, your belly tightens in anticipation as Sukuna finally joins his lips with yours. The sensation is electric, as if a current of desire runs through every fiber of your being. Your lips meet in an eager, fiery kiss, where Sukuna sucks your tongue greedily and bites your lower lip with unbridled passion.

The intensity is almost obscene, each movement making you moan softly. Your legs tremble, but his weight on you only fuels the growing fire in your belly. Though your body aches in this position, you can't stop; the kiss is addictive, a whirlwind of sensations that far exceeds your deepest desires. It is far more than any subtle fantasy you have allowed yourself to imagine.

Sukuna leans closer, his hands caressing your face tenderly as his lips explore yours with passionate urgency. The room fills with the sound of your ragged breathing, swallowing each of the growls he lets die in your mouth. 

. . . Slowly he pulls out of you, then rushes to throw the condom away in a basket by the desk. Your aching body turns to admire his broad back and gaze at the ink stains on it in the poor light.

With a simple “I'll be right back,” he leaves you waiting naked between the sheets your fingers stretch to gather and tuck you in. Before you can allow feelings of guilt or doubt to arise, Sukuna returns to the bed with a bottle of water that he offers you to drink. You immediately bring it to your mouth as he lies down next to you, one hand behind his head and the other resting on his tummy. 

You snuggle close to him and Sukuna immediately wraps his arms around you, drawing you into his warm body.

“That was amazing,” you admit, as your fingers trace figures on his chest. However, Sukuna senses how you suddenly tense up.

“What's wrong?” he asks you with a frown.

“I was thinking about what's going to happen to us now,” you mutter, averting your gaze.

“I like you,” he says, as if it hasn't been clear until now. “I want you to be my girlfriend, for real this time,” you both chuckle lightly, and you raise your face to stare at him for a moment, a smile spreading across your lips.

“I like you too,” you admit with a hot face, surprised to admit it out loud; you never thought this moment would come, the odds of ending up in love with Sukuna were low, almost nil. And yet, here you are.

“Good. Then we have no more questions,” he leans in for a fleeting kiss on your lips, awakening a dormant volcano in your belly. “I have to go visit my grandfather tomorrow, do you wanna grab lunch when I'm done?”

“Is it okay if I come with you?”

“Of course. You know we love having you around,” he says, struggling to hold back another smile.

"Does that mean that if I'm your girlfriend now I won't have to help you lift the fish boxes anymore?" you joke, and he drops his head back laughing softly. You look at him in awe, you never thought you could like him any more than you already did, but having him like this, so close, so vulnerable, makes your heart race.

You want to kiss him again, to sit on his lap and take control this time, but you bite your lip instead, letting out a smile.

“You're definitely going to have to help me more at the restaurant now that you're my girl.”

My girl. You feel like you might burst.

“And what about my dad? I already told him I'd go back to my country.”

“Nah. I'm not going to let you get away so easily, you're mine now. You're exactly where you belong.”

And Sukuna was right. Here you feel good, safe, despite the struggles you will face you know you can get through it together. So you lean in and kiss him again, and again and again; you would have all night and many more because now you were his and he was yours.

Thank you for reading! reblogs & comments are greatly appreciated ♡

I don't do parts two! ⟡ I do not allow repost (do not translate or copy elsewhere), please do not recommend my work on tiktok.

[mermaidgirl30]

✨My, My, Such a Sweet Surprise✨

A/N: I had to write this down real quick after I saw the most gorgeous Joel Miller looking man I’ve ever seen in my life today 🫠 This is a Drabble of what could of been if maybe I talked to the man 🤣

Summary: When you stumble upon a cute little property with a farmer’s market, you get more than you bargain for when you meet the man with honeysuckle eyes and a thick Southern drawl that makes you weak in the knees.

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem! reader

Word Count: 743

Rating: Explicit (18+ Only MDNI)

Tags: Unprotected P in V, cream pie, cute nicknames, flirting

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

It was supposed to be just a quick walkthrough of the little farmers market out in the country. A little Easter egg event for the dogs, at least that’s what you saw on the event listed online. That’s why you were standing in the warm spring air, your Great Pyrenees hooked to his leash, the soft summer dress blowing against your creamy thighs. That’s all it was supposed to be. A fun, relaxing event. That is, until you saw him.

A man that stood over six feet tall, yellow flannel buttoned up against tanned, strong arms, sleeves rolled up so you could see the thick veins that twisted down his forearms, large hands that could do some damage with an axe. And he was so fucking broad. And his eyes. Honeysuckle, warm heaven that clashed with his golden flannel.

You weren’t supposed to keep staring at him, weren’t supposed to even talk to him, but all that came crashing down the moment he walked over and spoke those first Southern drawled words to you, slipping like warm butter right down your tongue and that was it. You were completely fucked.

And that’s how you ended up in the back of his property, caged between his strong arms, your back pressed against an old oak tree, your sundress hiked above your hips, one leg hooked over his broad shoulder, the other clasped around his muscular back.

Your mouths latched together in messy, wet kisses. Your tongues lapped against each other’s in a burning hunger you couldn’t control. His fingers twisted against your messy curls as his thick cock rutted up inside you, the slick sliding down his long length as he stretched you wide and bottomed out again and again until you could barely stand the heat.

His mouth moved to your collarbone, his teeth nipping and sucking as your fingers ran through his tousled curls, your lips parting as the side of your face scratched up against his salt-and-pepper beard as your moans carried to the shell of his ear. You could feel yourself getting closer with every inch of his cock sliding against your sticky walls, the heat building in your spine as you dug your fingers into the back of his neck.

“Go on, come for me, darlin’. Squeezin’ me so fuckin’ tight. Know you’re close. Tell me who makes you feel good, sweetheart. Let me hear it,” he purred into your ear as you felt yourself lose all control the moment he moved his calloused thumb down to your puffy clit and started making slow circles against your burning heat.

“Oh fuck, Joel. You do. You make me feel good. Ahh.” He pressed down harder, quickening the pace of his thumb and cock as he bottomed out inside you, moving to a position where he hit that sweet, spongy spot that made you see stars.

“Joel, I’m gonna-fuck, gonna come,” you whined, feeling your orgasm start to take over as your walls squeezed against his thick cock.

“Fuck,” he growled as his fingers dug into your hips, “that’s a good fuckin’ girl. So good, sweetheart, Goddamn,” he groaned as you spilled your slick all over him.

“Joel,” you cried as you closed your eyes and buried your face into the crook of his neck, feeling white hot heat spill from your center as your body shook through the intense orgasm.

“Mmm, that’s my good girl. Gonna fill ya up next. That what you want, sweetheart? Want my come inside that pretty pussy of yours?” he asked as he sped up his motions, drilling his cock inside you as you felt him bottom out again and again and again.

“Yes, please,” you begged as you moved your forehead against his as he lapped against your crimson cheek.

“That’s what I thought,” he smirked. Once, twice, three more times and he was spilling his seed inside you, warm ropes of come painting your walls as he stilled inside you and moaned into the base of your ear, his ragged breaths blowing hot against your jawline.

“Christ, sweetheart. Ain’t you the sweetest surprise I’ve ever had the pleasure of meetin’,” he smiled against your lips, his mouth brushing up against yours. “Am I gonna see ya again?”

“Oh, yeah. You’ll definitely see me again, Miller,” you teased as he pushed you back up against the tree and pulled your hair back.

“How’s about round two then, darlin’?”

And that’s exactly what you did.

Tags: @mountainsandmayhem @littlevenicebitch69 @keylimebeag @jasminedragoon @rav3n-pascal22 @casa-boiardi @lotusbxtch @amyispxnk @princesatracionera

[am3ricanh0rrorwh0re]

To Hell and Back ☆

tate langdon x fem!reader

summary: Tate, your obsessive boyfriend, traps you in the Murder House on Halloween

warnings: nsfw, bondage, gagging, asphyxiation, pills, death, manipulation

a/n: hello, hola, bonjour, marhaban !! this ‘oneshot’ will probably be longer than any other one i’ve written since there’s a lot that goes into it. I know Tate is a crowd favorite (and one of my favorites), so i wanted to make this as descriptive as possible! love you, love you, love you, and i hope you enjoy this oneshot <3

Spirits were real. You knew it for sure. Especially because your obsessive, clingy boyfriend was one. Tate Langdon. He’d been your friend since you moved to the infamous Murder House. You’d never see him leave the house, or come in. One day you had enough and confronted him. Tate hesitantly admitted he wasn’t alive, but you didn’t believe him. That was, until you saw how he died, and the events leading up to his passing…You knew Tate was dangerous, a man that could strike at any moment in time. He could kill you. But that’s what you were drawn to, right?

”Alright honey, we’re leaving. Don’t answer the door,” Your mom chuckled, clinging to your dad as they were both ready to head out to a halloween party.

“Joyce, don’t tell her that. It’s Halloween,” Your dad retorted to your mom. Your mother scoffed, ultimately starting a small debate with your father on the crime rate of LA, especially on Halloween. You crossed your arms, staring up the staircase of the house. A figure swooped by quickly, running across the hallway of the house. You stumbled back subtly, swearing on your life you just saw something move. You parents ignored you, of course. They didn’t much care for the paranormal bullshit rambles of their daughter.

Your parents finally headed out the door. ‘Finally. Some alone time without the constant bickering.’ you thought to yourself. You stood in the doorway of your bedroom, eyeing your walls with great care, wondering what you could do to spice up your boring-ass, half unpacked bedroom.

You felt a presence behind you. Something dark. Something malevolent. A black, latex hand grabbed your waist, the second hand going over your mouth. ‘oh shit. this is how it ends.’ you panicked. The figure pushed you against the wall, keeping its hand clasped over your mouth. It’s free hand pinned your wrists above your head. The figure was complete black latex from head to toe. You whimper into its hand, turning your head as you prepared for the kiss of death. It took its hands off of you and took off the black hood. It was Tate, your boyfriend.

“Hey, Y/n,” He smiled, grabbing your face as he pulled you into a kiss. The moment you saw him, your panic subsided. It was a shitty prank, sure, but it was just Tate. No extreme reason to worry.

“Tate,” You groan with a chuckle after pulling away from the kiss You noticed he was wearing a backpack for some reason. Maybe it had candy? “Why’re you wearing that shit?”

That ‘shit’ that Tate was wearing was an old sex suit that you found when your family first moved into the Murder House. It was sitting in the attic, along with a few other kinky things. Tate was currently rocking it, his toned figure showing out against the tight latex. You leaned into him as he kissed the side of your face.

“I dunno. Thought it was funny,” Tate smirked, ruffling your hair playfully. He pulled you into a hug, and you leaned into it. Tate’s hands made their way down your figure, grazing your back. His hands cupped your ass and squeezed a little, making you squeak softly.

You pushed him back with a smile, grabbing your flip phone. “I gotta head out, my friends invited me,” You smile, dodging past him slightly. Tate grabbed your wrist, a hurt look in his dark eyes.

“Woah, what? I thought we were gonna spend Halloween together..?” Tate asked, cocking his head with a feigned look of confusion on his face. There he goes again, manipulating you. You never once planned to spend Halloween with him. For months, you and your friends have planned on hanging out, and now Tate was manipulating you again.

“When did we agree to that?” You chuckle, slightly confused.

“Last week,” He lied, grabbing both your wrists and pulling you closer. “Don’t you remember, Y/n?”

You shook your head. Tate grabbed your shoulders, pushing you backwards into your room. He forced you down to your bed, pinning your wrists on either side of your head.

“C’mon, Tate,” You say nervously, looking up at him with furrowed brows. Tate straddled you, keeping your wrists pinned down.

“Y/n, you’re not going anywhere. You’re gonna spend Halloween with me, okay?” Tate said shakily. He threw his backpack off, setting it next to him. Tate sat on your stomach, pinning your wrists down with his knees. You struggled slightly, hoping to get away from him.

“Moira!” You call, hoping to get the attention of your housekeeper, Moira. She was a kind, caring soul, but also a bit cold. Luckily for you, she liked you more than she liked your family or any of the other ghosts in the house. Tate pulls out a red ball gag, shoving it into your mouth before securing it at the back of your head. He moved your hair, prodding you like you were one of those porcelain dolls.

“Shh..calm down, Y/n..” Tate cooed, stroking your cheek with his knuckles. You whimpered into the gag, looking up at him with scared eyes.

“Hey-! You know i won’t hurt you!” Tate said sternly, shaking your shoulder. He took your wrists and handcuffed them to the bars of your headboard. You watched him pace the room, looking through his backpack. Tate was nervous himself, but the scared look on your face make him feel even worse. Tate pulled a small pill bottle out of his bag. He rushed back over to you, holding the bottle.

Tate sat next to your bound body on the bed, cupping your cheek in his hand. His other hand held the pill bottle in front of you. “Y/n, Y/n, look. I need you to take these, okay?”

Tate pulled the gag out of your mouth so you could speak. You hyperventilated, looking up at the boy who was supposed to take care of you, supposed to love you. He took his hand off of your face and grabbed your throat, tightening his hand around it. He held your throat tightly and popped the cap off of the bottle.

“Tate, I don’t wanna..” You cry. Tate grabs your throat tighter, looking down at you with tears in his eyes.

“No, c’mon Y/n! If you take ‘em, we’ll be together forever, okay?” Tate spoke quickly, clearly in a panic. You shook your head, whimpering.

“Just open your fucking mouth,” Tate growled, pushing your jaw down with one latex hand while the other shoved two little white and blue pills into your mouth. He forced them down so far that you had no choice but to swallow them.

“Swallow…Swallow them, babe. Swallow them and we can be together,” Tate cooed as you coughed and cried, your tears soaking your face. Once you swallowed the pills, he pulled his fingers out of your mouth.

Tate wrapped his hands around your neck, closing them tightly. His fingers dug into your neck, closing your airways. You looked up at him, wide eyes as you gasped for the air that you’d never receive again after this moment. Tate looked at you, swallowing hard. His warm, salty tears fell onto your face. He was sobbing now, sobbing as his fingers tightened around your throat.

“I’m sorry…I’m sorry, Y/n, but this was the only way…” Tate cried softly. His hands tightened as hard as they could. Harder and harder and harder until your airways snapped in your throat. Tate took his hands off your throat the moment he heard your airway collapse. He gasped, tears continuing to fall like a flood from his eyes Tate brushed his fingers over your eyelids, making sure they were closed.

“You’ll wake up in a few days, okay?” Tate sniffled, kissing your neck. He stroked your hair, kissing all over your neck and face as he cried. “I’m sorry..but we’ll be together now, okay…? You and me forever, Y/n..”

[alldevilsarehere90]

Title: It's all tears Pairing: Daryl x Reader Summary: ‘This ain’t working’ are not the ideal words to hear in regards to your fairly new relationship. Setting: Alexandria Genre: SFW, Angst, Fluff, Ever so slightly suggestive if you squint and close one eye, Drabble. Word Count: 800 A/n: This was just a cute little idea that I had to get down and wrote on the way to work.

“This ain’t working.”

You heard the words, you'd taken them in and now they just bounced around aimlessly inside your head, while your eyes stayed trained on the tiled floor of the kitchen. 

He continued talking but you couldn’t listen, you didn’t want to hear the excuses, so you focused on the only thing in front of you. 

The grouting could really do with a clean, you’ll have to get the mop out later and run it over the floor once everyone’s in bed. It’s shocking really, the amount of dirty boots that trek their way through this kitchen with no concern over who cleans it. Everyone is probably waiting for Carol to volunteer.

“Did ya hear me?” Daryl’s voice smashes through your attempt at ignoring the current conversation, causing you to forget all concern over the dirty floor.

You nod in response, hands wringing in your lap, unsure how to respond and unable to swallow the lump you feel thick and heavy in your throat.

As far as you were concerned, Daryl walked on water; he was the sun, the moon and the stars and all that lies in-between, he was your everything. To say that this shocked you was an understatement, you simply had not seen this coming. You had believed the feelings between you to be mutual but now, as you sit here repeating those words in your mind, you find a thousand memories rushing through your head, looking at them in a completely different light. 

Did you perhaps have the wrong idea this whole time? Did you read all his actions completely wrong just to give yourself false hope of something real between you.

“y/n,” he said into the thick silence. 

You fidget on the dining chair you sat in and clasp your hands together so tight your nails were leaving deep crescent moons in your skin, the pain gave you a distraction from the tears filling your eyes. “I-I thought that things between us, were-were going well, I-”

“Shit.” he mumbles, crossing the space from his place by the doorway and closing the distance between you. Slotting himself between your legs, his knuckle hooks under your chin and forces you to look up at him. An errand tear escapes and runs down your cheek, which he quickly wipes away with his thumb.

“Yer weren' listenin ta me?”

Frowning not understanding what he could mean, you repeated the words he’d said back to him. They sounded foreign coming out of you, knowing they would never leave your lips of their own accord.

“And wha 'bout after?”

You shook your head, a question in your gaze.

He squats down in front of you, his hand slides down to hold yours and big enough to contain them both, “I said, this ain’t working, I-I need ya ta come home ta me…every night,” he clears his throat, cheeks tinged pink, “I can’t sleep without ya next ta me no more.”

You felt like an idiot, how could you have assumed the negative so quickly after lecturing Daryl not to do exactly that. “What are you suggesting?” hope blossomed in your chest, knowing the words you wanted but praying to hear them from him.

Looking self consciously away from your gaze, his hold on your hands tighten. “Move in with me? In ma room, " his cheeks flush a deeper shade of red that you just want to lean over and kiss. "if yer want ta.”

Your chest erupts, heart thrumming a love song of its own as you throw your arms around his neck and bury your face into his neck. He wobbles under the sudden movement and his arm shoots round your waist at an attempt to steady you both. It fails however and knocks him off balance, sending him falling on his back and pulling you along with him. 

A burst of relieved laughter exits your body along with your breath as you slam into him, your chest flush to his. He laughs, watching your face and your giddy expression. 

“That a yes?” He asks, tucking hair behind your ear to stop it from concealing your face.

Nodding eagerly, his hand finds anchorage at the back of your neck and pulls you down to him, your mouth meeting in passionate exchange. You relish every moment of it, the softness of his lips, the way he tastes and the feel of him holding you so tight and secure. The reality hits that he is all yours, everyday and night; you can have this.

[asumofwords]

Smoke, Fire and Ash

Warnings: This fic includes noncon, dubcon, manipulation, violence, death, forced marriage, and inc3st. Tags will be added as the fic goes on. Angst, violence, fear, anxiety, PTSD, mentions of rape.

This is a dark!fic. 18+ only. Read at your own discretion. Please read the warnings before continuing.

Summary: You are the eldest daughter of Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen. You are forced to navigate the difficult surroundings of your upbringing and the eventual disintegration between your family and the Hightower's relationship. What will happen when your older and estranged uncle suddenly takes a more sinister interest in you? (Dark!Aemond x Reader)

Masterlist

Characters: Aemond Targaryen X Reader, HOTD characters.

Note: Full speed ahead from here... Buckle the fuck in my babies, let's get this show on the road! I think we all knew that something was coming and here we are... Rapid fire posting from here on out, are you ready? Again, as always, thank you, thank you, thank you all so very much for all your love and continued support! You guys have made writing this so much fun! <3

Chapter 97: Consequences 

The sun rose slowly that morning, the room being cast in its gentle warm glow.

Shadows danced across the wall, growing larger with every hour that passed, and every crawling step that the sun took to get higher and higher in the sky.

You laid as you were, nestled beneath the sheets, with your hand still reaching for the blade Aemond had gifted you upon his departure. 

Always ready.

Always waiting.

For him.

The maids woke alongside the sun, stretching long arms above their bodies to straighten their spines, vertebrae’s clicking into place and aches settling into their muscles after sleeping on chaises and chairs for many nights straight.

They rose, and helped you rise, dressing you in a deep black and red skirt, with a black leather bustier top. The shoulders were cuffed with metal, with long dripping hoops of chains that pressed cooly against the bare skin of your arms. The neck was high fitting, and splayed outwards like dragon wings. 

As you sat at the table, waiting for the two girls to bring you food to break your fast, Amala entered first, a short bow, and the quietest of apologies on her tongue. The action caused panic to rear its ugly head within you, and so you darted your head backwards towards the bed, seeking out the place you knew the blade to be hidden, with your eyes. 

Movement in your periphery, you turned your head, and met the deep brown eyes of Alicent Hightower, dressed in an even deeper green gown, tight arms and stiff neck, standing in your chambers. 

“Good Morrow, Princess.” She greeted you, hands clasped gently at her front.

Your brows twitched as you looked at her, “Alicent.”

The Dowager Queen walked towards you slowly, “I thought I might join you to break our fasts together.”

You blinked at the Hightower. Her hair was half up, half down, pinned away from her face in a thick braid that Helaena used to wear across the top of her scalp, auburn wisps curling away from her face, escaping the style.

You opened your palm towards Aemond’s empty seat. A silent invitation to join you. A motion for her to sit. An unlikely guest in your chambers whom you had no real power to turn away.

A guest in whom you had to welcome regardless of the desire to slit her throat.

Alicent moved slowly, as though she was floating across the stones. Her feet did not make sounds as she walked, an entirely silent ordeal that made you see Alicent in Aemond in more ways than you had thought before.

Both having to have been seen and not heard. Quiet and dutiful. It was all there, the reflection of a mother in her son. The silent resentment of all those around. The even quieter pain that lingered behind the pairs eyes, pain from duty, pain from having no voice, pain from being trapped to the shadows of men before them.

Pulling out her chair, she seated herself down, eyes flicking about the chambers in inspection.

What she was looking for, you did not know. 

It was not long until Joanna, helped by Amala, brought in the food and plates for the both of you. It was as if the Queen had planned this breakfast, and that it was not at all as spur of the moment as she wished it to seem.

Alicent Hightower was always making calculated moves. 

You wondered what this one was for.

“And how are you?” She asked gently, thanking the girls as they bowed and left the chambers for you to be alone with the older woman.

You cleared your throat, serving yourself a plate of food as you stared at her. You let out a deep sigh through your nose and responded, “I have been better.”

There was no point in lying to her, nor did you wish to soothe any anxieties she, in your opinion, was most likely to have. And though you wished to have nothing to do with the woman seated opposite you, there was no denying the similarities that you both shared. The combined struggle that the both of you would understand, even wordlessly.

You were both women.

Alicent mirrored your actions, serving herself a plate of eggs, toast and cooked tomatoes, “It seems to be something we can all agree on.”

You blinked at her.

“What happened to you,” She began, hands placed delicately in her lap, which you knew to mean she was picking at the skin of her nails, “Was a horrific set of unforeseen circumstances. The Gods-“

“Unforeseen.” You hummed, picking up your goblet of fresh juice taking a sip, “Unforeseen for myself and Aemond, perhaps. But the King and his Council knew that I was to be brought to the Throne Room that day. You knew.”

Alicent cut herself a piece of toast, smearing egg onto its crispy surface, “I had cautioned the King against such an-“

“Alicent, you could not caution an ant if you wished.”  You breathed, cutting into your own toast with far more vigour than needed.

“Aemond was not privy to know-“

“As I am now aware.” You swallowed the bread thickly, “Please be transparent about your coming today.”

Alicent’s doe-y features hardened, and the calculating serpent you had become accustomed to, was revealed to the room, though her eyes still stayed soft, “I came to speak to you about my son.”

“Which one? The rapist, my husband, or the corpse?”

The reminder of Daeron set Alicent’s teeth on edge, jaw clenched as she stared at you, “Aemond.” She grit out.

“My husband then." You gave her a clipped smile, "What did you need to speak to me of, which you could no doubt ask him yourself? Do you not have a better relationship with him than I?”

“I wished to hear it from your own lips.”

“My lips have said many things about your sons, my husband especially. What does the famed Green Queen want to know?” You sighed, munching on some star fruit as the Lady Alicent Hightower struggled to keep her frustrations at bay.

“Do you love him?”

You laughed. 

You didn’t mean to.

But you just did.

Alicent was not impressed, and seemed all together confused. 

“If I did not love him, I would not be here still.”

“You would. It is a marriage-“

“-I would have thrown myself from the window like Helaena if I did not, or ripped his throat out with my teeth..." You paused, "Or yours."

It was blunt. 

Raw.

And hurt the both of you.

You strummed your fingers against the table loudly, looking down as you contemplated your next words.

“I love him. That is the truth of it. A sick and twisted truth if anything, but something I could have never fought. The Gods made us for each other. It is known. But my love for him does not outweigh the hurt he has inflicted upon me. He is still a Kinslayer.”

Alicent tilted her head, leaning back in her chair, chestnut waves falling over her shoulder, “As are you." One singular eyebrow raised, "I think you seem to forget.”

“How can one forget a life one took?" You spoke flatly, disinterested in the actions of the past, "My only consolation was that it was war when I did it. Aemond however, pushed the first piece on the board to start the others that fell. Like mother, like son.”

Alicent ate another piece of her eggs daintily, lifting to her lips with her fork, before swallowing, “The both of you are Kinslayers, acursed in the eyes of the people.”

You gave her a toothy grin, “Then what better way than to have those who are acursed as Kinslayers to be wed to each other. It would surely bring damnation and shame to any other husband or wife and their House, but the Gods made it so that we are together as one. In actions. In sin. In love. A small mercy really.”

Alicent gave an uneven smile, placing her cutlery back onto her plate, “It's strange, I must admit. The predicament we find ourselves in. But if anything, I am glad that it was you. That meek Baratheon girl would not have survived my son, I'm afraid.”

You frowned, and Alicent continued, “I would have no better match for Aemond. You have both always loved each other. You know each other better than anyone else, and at times, though it pains me to admit it, you know my son better than I do. You see him. All of him. The good and the bad. My parts that played in it, and yours. And I believe the Seven helped to bring you together.”

“It was the Old Gods, not the Seven.”

Alicent merely stared at you for a time, picking her napkin up to dab at her lips before placing the napkin back on the table, “With any luck, Aemond should return soon.” She stood, pushing her chair back as she smoothed out her skirts.

“Godspeed.” You prayed, and watched as she bowed and left your chambers. 

You finished your breakfast without the presence of the Dowager Queen, and when you were done, you made your way down to the Library to read.

When you entered the Library it was quiet and still, with one lone servant stoking the flames in the large fireplace, placing three to four large logs inside carefully.

As they heard your entrance, they bowed at the hip, keeping their face to the ground before they scuttled out of the room like a rodent.

You perused the isles of books for some time, fingers tracing over the worn spines, and dusted covers. Leather and embroidered tomes combined. As you came to one isle in particular, you thought back on the way Aemond had taken you against the shelves, face diving between your folds, his tongue lapping at you feverently before spearing you upon his cock.

Your core clenched at the memory.

Picking a tome at random, you pulled the heavy leather bound book from the shelf, making your way to seat yourself before the fire as you opened it up in your lap. The first page was worn, and faded, but the script was slanted beautifully by a careful hand.

‘Maegor the Cruel, The Usurpation of Aegon the Uncrowned, and The Seven Faith Militant. A History.’

You had picked quite the intense read, but began it nonetheless.

‘Maegor the First was the son of King Aegon the First and his eldest sister-wife, Queen Visenya Targaryen. Maegor was born of fire and blood, the prodigy of Aegon the Conqueror, A King who laid waste to all the realms who did not bend the knee on the back of Balerion the Black Dread. Maegor the Cruel had an older half-brother, Aenys the First, who was said to be a fair and just Prince.’

The day floated by as you read the history of Maegor and his violent rise to power.

‘Maegor had six wives, to which the Faith strongly rebuked, polygamy a sin in the eyes of the Seven Faith. Ceryse Hightower, and Alys Harroway - who was later killed by his third wife Tyanna of the Tower. Then, there were the Black Brides; Elinor Costayne, Jayne Westerling, and his niece, Rhaena Targaryen.’

The warmth of the fire settled over you gently, and your eyes excitedly read each page as you got more and more into the violence of the Cruel King. You had read the history once before, but you had been young and under the Septa’s supervision, which made learning about him boring and irksome. 

By now you had gotten half way through the tome.

‘At the death of his father, Aegon the First, his brother Aenys ascended the throne. Maegor was still exiled for his sins in marrying a second wife, and soon after his ascent to the Iron Throne, King Aenys passed. Maegor seized the throne, and crowned himself King. Yet his rule would not be an easy one. Some moons later, Prince Aegon, Maegor’s nephew, laid claim to the Iron Throne, as was his birth right.’

The sound of the library doors echoed in the chambers, but you did not raise your head.

‘Prince Aegon’s claim was supported by several Lords of the Westerlands and Riverlands, and so the Prince marched at the head of an army, fifteen thousand men strong. Queen Tyanna, Maegor’s third wife and the Mistress of Whispers, warned that Maegor's allies would turn on him for his nephews claim if there was show of his prevail. In the Battle Beneath The Gods Eye, Maegor and Aegon’s armies clashed, and fought in a bloody and brutal battle. Men were slain from their horses by archers and swordsman, dragon fire lay waste to hundreds of men, the earth under The Gods Eye was soaked with blood, and many soldiers sank into its red mud. Though it came to an end, Maegor slew his nephew and his dragon Quicksilver, tearing them from the sky on the back of the mighty Black Dread. Maegor the Cruel was thenceforth known for his cruelty and labeled a Kinslayer.’

“Princess, Y/n.” A voice pulled you from your book. Your eyes lifted from the page to meet Ser Criston Cole’s.

You straightened your back, looking to the two guards who flanked him either side, feeling a strange sense of dejavu from the scene before you. 

“Ser Cole.” You greeted him warily, placing the book atop the table in front of you and standing, body ready to take flight.

Ser Criston lifted his head high, “King Aegon has requested for your presence in the Throne Room.”

You blinked, and you stomach did a small flip, fear rising in your throat.

“And I suppose these guards are there to enforce my presence?”

The two men shifted, their armour scratching against each other, eyes aimed at the wall behind you.

Ser Cole breathed, “No, My Lady.”

“Then tell the King I am busy.” You moved to sit back down, but Ser Cole took a step forward towards you. 

It was clear then, that there was no real choice.

Not that you ever had one in the Keep.

It was not a casual invitation that they would like you to believe it was, much like Alicent's breaking her fast with you that morning, but they were not dragging you to the Throne Room, kicking and screaming as they did last time.

It did little to soothe your wrought nerves, but it was at least something.

The small voice in the back of your head screamed that it would be another Maester situation. Your intuition told you to run. Your baser instincts told you to fight.

But what if it was one of the maids?

Panic shot through you, and so you nodded, walking across the room, feeling as though each step further settled your doom. But you could not leave them. If it was one of the maids, if Larys had discovered them, you would not abandon them now in their time of need.

Ser Cole bowed his head to you, holding the door open before he began to lead you to the Iron Throne, the two guards walking closely behind you, ready to snatch you if you so chose to run.

Each step of the men was a shuffle of robes and armour, and you watched the sword on Ser Criston’s side sway heavily with each step, its long blade tapping the side of his thigh.

Each sway reminded you of how Aegon’s hand had swung down, separating the old mans head from his neck. How your Grandsire's blade had tipped at Aegon's side as he descended the steps of the Iron Throne to stand before you.

The blood. 

So much blood.

On you.

On the stones. 

You wondered for a moment, if the stain would still be there, or if they had tasked some poor servants to scrub it out of the porous surface as though their lives depended on it.

You tried to steady your breathing. Counting each step as you saw the large doors to the Iron Throne. Fifty-one. Fifty-Two. Fifty-Three. Fifty-Four.

Kings guards opening the heavy wood doors with steel bracketing along its face to let you in. 

Ser Cole walked ahead of you announcing you to the chambers, as you held your hands behind you, fingers digging sharply into the flesh of your palm. The King Maker voiced boomed as you looked to Aegon, who was seated upon the throne, lazily leaning on one side with his chin in his palm, as though summoning you back to the Throne Room was a chore and a bore. 

The Small Council were about the chambers, dressed in their robes and House colours, watching you with careful and guarded eyes, though nervousness shifted their bodies.

And there, beside the throne, once again, was Aemond. 

His presence did little to settle your nerves.

It was happening again.

Gods, please, help me.

Aemond's gaze had snapped to you as soon as you had entered, and although he stood tall and stiff, hands behind his back and face impassive, your presence had clearly come as a surprise.

Again.

Aemond looked blindsided. 

Completely at a loss as to why you were there, and it showed in his eye. 

The Prince looked as though he had only just arrived back in Kings Landing, dressed still in his riding leathers, hair pulled back and away from his face by braids, and lips pressed into a thin line. His brows had furrowed as he looked at you.

But Aemond hadn’t come straight to you as he usually did. 

Something was amiss.

“Husband,” You called out to him, schooling your voice to hide the rising panic, “I am gladdened to see you hale and hearty and returned home.” You gave him a small smile, and turned to the King, “You requested my presence, Your Grace?”

Aegon did not smile at you. 

He did not even sneer. 

The King merely stared at you with his intense, violet eyes, lips slightly pursing in thought before straightening into a flat line, much like his brother. But beneath those bright eyes you had come to fear, there was something simmering beneath.

Rage.

Swallowing and sensing that you were in danger, you turned to face your husband again, “Did you find the men who were responsible at the Red Fork?”

Aemond was still, shoulders tensed, head turning to look up at his brother who still sat staring at you, crown atop his head. You watched as your husbands lips opened to speak.

Otto Hightower stepped forward, his greying and receding hair shimmering in the light that poured in from the windows. His robes of green were trimmed with fur around his neck and chest, and the pin of the Hand of the King sat against his breast.

“You stand before King Aegon the Second, rightful heir to the Iron Throne.” His voice sent chills down your spine, skin breaking beneath your nails in your palm. It was happening again, “You have been brought before the King and his Council to answer for the crimes you are being charged.”

Your immediate thought was to turn to Aemond, to ask him what was happening, to beg him for help, but you remembered the last time this had happened. You remembered the last time he had stood there and watched.

You remembered as he had done nothing.

You remembered that you were alone.

Again.

Otto straightened, a ringing in your ears beginning to grow louder, “You are accused of treason; For the slaying of the Kings unborn child, aided by the traitor Maester. You are accused of conspiring with Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen against the Crown. You are accused of attempting to recruit Prince Aemond Targaryen to turn cloak and help your mothers cause. How do you plead against these charges?”

“What?” Your voice was so small, and sounded so far away.

This was it.

There was no going back now.

Aegon straightened on the monstrous throne of melted swords, “The Princess was given a gift by the Seven when my seed was put into her womb. She had made a confession to ensuring the death of her pregnancy out of spite when the Maester was charged. She has murdered my son. The Kings son. A highest of treasons.”

Your throat felt dry, “You raped me.”

Aegon’s lip twitched from the smirk he was holding back, “The Princess seduced me with promises of good behaviour for favours and fruit. Star fruit is your favourite, is it not?”

Aegon moaned as he heard you whimper, and let go of your throat, a lungful of air racing through your mouth as you gasped. Aegon fucked himself into you, the sound of his grunts and his flesh slapping against yours filled the chambers with your sobs. 

Aemond bristled beside his brother, eye narrowed on you. His posture was straight, and as your eyes flicked from one brother to the other, you realised there was no hope.

There was no hope for you.

Aemond had made his choice. 

And it was never to be you.

Aegon leant forward on the throne, silver hair shimmering in the light, “The Princess came to me after Prince Aemond left for Harrenhal. She was alone and angry at knowing that my brother was having an affair with the bastard wet-nurse, Alys Rivers. She begged me to warm her bed, and to give her an heir so that my brother would not suspect a thing.”

“You think the Knight would help you?” Aegon sneered, as you thrashed beneath him, pushing at him with all your strength, “Do you think he would listen to you? I could command him to come in here and make him watch, and he would do it. Should I call him for you?” He growled, fingers tightening around your throat, the room beginning to spin. 

You swallowed thickly, the sounds of Aegon’s grunts breaking forth in your memory.

The night he attacked you.

The night he raped you.

The night that changed everything.

“That's a lie.” Your voice cracked, looking up at the King, “You came to my chambers, and held me down, and raped me.” Your eyes flicked across the room, meeting a pair of distressed brown ones, “Alicent, you know this to be the truth. You were there. You helped me.”

Alicent stepped forward, turning to her son, “Is this true, Aegon? Perhaps the Princess had not known the implications. The Maester must have deceived her, or forced her to do as she did under threat.”

Alicent had given you Moon Tea after Aegon. 

She knew.

And she was lying.

"You're lying!" You sneered at the auburn haired woman.

Aegon looked down at his mother in mock pity, “Lord Larys Strong told me that she had been given Moon Tea after she was given my son. She had willingly and enthusiastically drank it, as she knew it was my child inside of her.”

Your stomach twisted in knots, and you felt as though you were going to be sick. But the anger of seeing Alicent play games with her own son, whilst her other watched you, was simply too much for you to bear. 

Damn them all.

“The Queen gave me the Moon Tea.” You declared, voice clipped, "Is that not an act of treason? Try your own blood before the Council for the sins of your flesh.” Your hands came down to your side, clenched into fists. 

You were not going to die in cowardice. 

You would bite, and scratch, and claw until the end.

As you always had done.

“Princess Y/n, might I remind you that you are before the Small Council and King Aegon. You will have time to speak for your innocence when the King has finished his petition.” Otto cautioned you.

Your breathing became laboured, shallow, angry breaths that heaved. 

It was that rage again.

That same rage that you had pushed down and away, that had been there at your finger tips, just beneath the surface of your skin, hiding in the shadows. The rage that you had clipped and preened like a rose bush, to not prick yourself on its thorns. 

A rage that was innately yours. 

Aegon straightened himself, the golden chains that sat heavily against his chest swaying with movement. He shifted, pulling himself to be seated in a stiff and upright position, as though one of the swords he was seated upon had slipped up his spine. 

He looked every bit his mother.

And then he thought. 

And the silence of the chambers was almost as deafening as the ringing in your ears. The pounding of your heart in your head, the rushing of the blood in your veins. You felt every bone in your body, the weight of them, the feel of them. Every tooth in your skull felt as though they were not sitting correctly, your tongue heavy and too large for your mouth. 

Aemond shifted again in your periphery, taking two short steps forward towards you.

Coward.

“Swear yourself to me.” The King boomed in the chambers, his voice echoing in the space and decision made. 

Aegon pushed himself to stand, looking down his nose at you.

“Bend the knee, and swear me as your King.”

Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to the tag list please let me know :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! Enjoy <3

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[acidnhuskerdust]

A bit of something to rattle on your brain: Angel makes it into heaven, but freaks out and demands/begs to send a message to heaven because he knows what had to happen to get there

"No, no no fuck no! Husk! I have to get a message to Husk, tell him okay." ;x;

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!

This is a good one, because even though getting into heaven is supposed to be a good thing, I feel like Angel would be absolutely devastated to be there without Husk.

Instead of Sir Pentious getting into heaven, Angel does.

i need him (Husk x Angel)

Dark.

That's all Angel could perceive, an all-consuming blackness so deep he couldn't even discern his own form. It left him wondering if his eyes were truly open. The sensation was more than unsettling; it was downright terrifying.

The final imaged seared into his memory was that of Husk, with tears glistening in those golden eyes, begging for him to stay.

"Don't go, I need you. I lov-"

He clung onto those unfinished word as if they were his life line. He knew what he was going to say, and fuck would he do anything to say it back.

As his mind races with too many thoughts, he closes his eyes tight. Maybe, just maybe, if he let himself fall asleep, he could escape this torment. He yearned for never ending unconsciousness, he didn't want to face these thoughts, didn't want to acknowledge this existence. He should be dead, more so then he already was.

But just as he willed his eyes to seal shut, a piercing light sliced through the darkness, searing through his closed eyelids. With a sharp intake of breath, his eyes snapped open, instantly surrounded by hues of blue and gold. His gaze darted around frantically, is this some corner of Hell he's never seen before? Was he safe?

Then, his eyes locked onto two pairs of eyes staring back at him, one radiating sheer excitement while the other wore an expression of what could only be described as disgusted surprise.

Angels?

"What... What the fuck?" Angel stammers, instinctively taking a step back. "Where am I?"

One of the angels clasp her hands together, her entire being seeming to shimmer with excitement. Her eyes, wide and filled with wonder, locked onto Angel's "You're in Heaven!"

Angel recoils, taking another retreating step, his pulse thundering in his ears. "H-Heaven..." The word felt foreign, surreal as he echoed it. His gaze sweeps across the room again, a frown settling on his lips. "Is this... Some sorta joke?"

The taller angel, exuding a more composed aura, shook her head. "I'm afraid not, it appears Charlie was correct..."

Angel falls silent, his eyes flitted from one corner of the room to another, unable to settle on one thing. He should have felt a wave of relief wash over him, he was safe, in Heaven no less! But instead, a deep seated ache throbbed in his heart, and a weight seemed to press down on his chest.

Husk.

"No..." The word slipped from Angel's lips, a mere whisper laced with dread.

"No?" The elder angel echoed, a hint of confusion lacing her tone.

Angel runs a hand through his hair, his breaths coming in short, rapid gasps. "N-no! I need ta get back, right now!" His voice grows more desperate, more insistent.

This wasn't his home, this wasn't his friends, his... Family. He doesn't want to be here, he never really wanted to in the first place, not since Husk and him grew closer...

The smaller angel rises from her seat, a gentle look etched on face as she approaches Angel. "I understand that you're shocked, we are too, but-"

"Ya don't understand," Angel cuts in, his voice strained. His hand clutches at his hair, "I gotta see him, I need him." His plea was raw and real, he didn't care for anything else besides Husk.

"You can't." The elder angel asserted with a voice that brooked no argument, rising up from her seat.

"What do ya mean I can't?!" Angel's voice spiked with desperation. "Ya guys come down to slaughter us, and now ya tell me ya can't ferry me back?!"

She raises her hand, a silent request for quiet. Angel drew in a deep, ragged breath. "You can't right now. We need... To understand how you are here in the first place." She explains.

"Ta hell with that! Ya can't just hold me captive, please, you're not getting it." His voice was laced with rising panic. He shouldn't be here, he can't be here, Husk wasn't here. What was the point of being in Heaven if he was kept from the one he loved most?

He was scared. So fucking scared.

The smaller angel bridged the gap between them, her hand reaching out to tenderly grasp his own. As he gazed down at her through a veil of tears, his breath hitched, a sob wrenching free from the depths of his being.

"It's going to be okay," She murmurs in a soothing tone, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. "I promise you'll be able to see whoever you want, just give us some time, okay?"

Angel clenched his eyes tight, his tears carving warm, damp trails down the fur of his cheeks. He fought for the need to plead, to go back, because in the end he should count his blessing he was here.

Finally, he nods his head. "O-okay." He wipes away his tears with the back of his fist. "Can.. Can we at least send him a message? Let him know... Let him know I'm okay?"

"We sure can." The younger one smiles up at him. "My name is Emily."

"Angel."

"A fitting name for where you are now, huh?" She lets out a soft giggle, filling the space between them. "Come on, let's go and get you a room. You can stay here for as long as you'd like."

Angel feels his breath steady as the seconds pass, Emily's presence provided him a comfort that he needed so very badly. He can be patient, he can wait, he will see him again.

He will tell him how much he loves him.

[starsbits]

i think the transfem hunter headcanon is cute and so real so i made some art for it :]

[Image ID: Several drawings of Hunter and Willow from The Owl House in a scrapbook-style composition. The largest drawing, on the right side of the canvas, depicts Hunter, smiling while with their hands clasped in front of them. They have a red hair streak and are wearing little wolf earrings. They are also wearing a red cape resembling Flapjack's wings, held together by golden wing pins connected by a chain. Under the cape, they are wearing a dark undershirt and tights beneath a yellow dress, cut across the middle by a belt. The skirt of the dress has two patches on it, the colors matching the cape. Behind this drawing are stickers of a bisexual flag heart, a wolf, and Willow taking a picture of them while smiling. To the left of this drawing is a doodle textured to look like a scrap of paper taped to the canvas. The doodle shows Willow (wearing her human-realm outfit) and Hunter (wearing their patchwork jacket) holding hands, with Willow looking towards them excitedly while Hunter looks away, smiling while blushing. Below this drawing are two stickers of their palismen, with the sticker of Flapjack looking as if someone tried to tear it up but left some behind. Below the stickers are two polaroid pictures, one partially obscured. The top one shows Hunter holding a skirt with a joyful expression, with Luz holding her hand up to also inspect it beside them, slightly off camera. Behind them are racks of skirts. The picture has an obscured label. Behind this picture, a small portion of a picture of Willow and Clover is shown. The background is blue with specks of glitter scattered all over it. End Image ID]

[cowboydisaster]

On Call

pairing: Arthur Morgan x fem!reader

word count: 800

summary: Arthur picks up the phone mid-coitus

a/n: This is just a little drabble I wrote up. I've been writing a lot of romance lately and needed a change of pace lol.

beta read by @margowritesthings

warnings: nsfw, 18+, minors dni (otp, rough sex)

Arthur's hands have an iron grip on your hips as he fucks you, drilling into you hard. 

"Y'like that, ya little whore?" He growls, and you arch your back from the bed, moaning loudly. Your nails scrape red trails onto his shoulders and back as you dig your heels into him, spurring him on. 

"Yes I like it, fuck- I love it." You mewl, breathy whimpers coming from your mouth.

His hips slap against yours loudly, his thumb tracing lightly over your clit as you shudder. 

"Fuck- don't stop, Arthur. Don't stop." You stutter, shaking and writhing underneath him as you approach a climax. 

Suddenly you hear a vibration, and you glance to his bedside table. It's buzzing against the hardwood table, lighting up as his ringtone plays out. Arthur's hips never relent as he reaches over, grabbing his phone and looking at the screen

"Be quiet. It's work." He orders, hips still slamming into you. Your eyebrows pull together, and you whimper. 

"What? You- you can't just-" You mewl, head falling back as he picks up his pace. 

"I said be quiet." Arthur growls, pressing the little green call button on his screen. You try your best to keep quiet as he rails you, but the task proves to be difficult. 

"Mr van der Linde, how are you?" Arthur asks, glaring at you to shut up as his cock rams into your sweet spot.

"Yes Mr. van der Linde, good to hear." Arthur says loudly, charismatic as he keeps himself in total control. You squint your eyes shut, bucking your hips to meet his as his cock drags in and out of you, bumping your g-spot with every hard thrust. 

"Yes, the wife is doin' very well, thanks for asking." Arthur smirks down at you, thrusting extra hard. You clamp a hand over your mouth to muffle your moans. 

"Oh she's takin' it real good- all the change with the new job, I mean." Arthur smirks at you again, watching as your breasts bounce with each of his thrusts and your eyes roll back in your head. 

He adjusts the phone between his ear and shoulder to free up his other hand, and he rubs his finger over your clit in time with his thrusts. You breathe heavily under your hand, struggling to hold your cries back. 

"Arthur-" You mewl, not loud enough for Arthur's boss to hear, but for extra safety, he clasps his own hand over your mouth, pushing yours out of the way. 

"Yes sir, I'll be sure to do so when I'm in the office next." He says, breath coming hotly from his nose.

Arthur's hips are tantalizing, putting you in a  delirious state as you whimper and moan under his hands. He knows you're close. 

"Yes, thank you Mr. van der Linde." He says, almost wrapping up. You can barely keep quiet anymore, a full mess under his hand as your orgasm approaches. 

"Okay, yes, perfect. Thanks again, I'll see you shortly." Arthur says, humming and nodding before he hangs up the phone and tosses it somewhere on the bed. 

The moan that you immediately release when his hand comes up from your mouth is ear piercing.

"Real good job. You can be loud for me now, let me hear it." Arthur says, and you do exactly that. 

Your orgasm tears through you, sending waves of pleasure and shock over your body that have you bucking your hips, moaning, and gripping him with all the strength in your body.

"Arthur-!" You cry out, eyes rolling back as you arch off the bed. You curse, grinding against him as he keeps pace, fucking into you relentlessly. 

"Yeah, good girl. That's it, take it." Arthur growls, groaning as a tightness grows in his balls. 

You whimper with every breath, coming down just as Arthur slips out of you. He pumps himself a few times before groaning deeply and cumming all over your chest. 

"Shit, darlin." He groans, catching his breath for a moment before getting up from the bed to get you a towel.

"Your boss?!" You ask, panting as he comes forward to wipe you up. 

"Yes." Arthur says plainly, cleaning you up thoroughly. 

"What if he heard me?" You ask, suddenly horrified. 

"With the noises you make? Hell sweetheart, he'd promote me." 

Arthur chuckles, and you roll your eyes as he tosses the towel in the hamper before crawling back overtop of you. He kisses your forehead, pulling you into his arms for the rest of the morning, wondering if an opportunity will come up like this one again.

taglist: @margofiore @mrsarthurmorgan7 @woman-with-no-name @tillith @luvliewriting @pine4pple-b0i @photo1030 @dudsparrow

[loveshotzz]

I have a pretty good one awhile ago but I don't ever see myself writing it.

Reader and Eddie are good friends, Argyle drops by his trailer to buy, and he ends up flirting with the reader. Later reader and Eddie go to a party, Argyle is there, and in sure you know where it goes from there

Argyle x fem!reader

You can call me names if you call me up

Warnings:18+ Weed dealing, weed smoking, mentions of drinking, slight mentions of hellcheer? (eddie has a crush and we make fun of him for it) kissing, semi public fingering (f! receiving)

Word count: 5.8k

beta’d by @superblysubpar

Authors note: This is my first ever Argyle fic! Thank you @sleepy-princ3ss for letting me write this! I had a lot of fun this one but it’s scary to write a new character so let me know what you think! I also had a good time writing Eddie as our best friend who doesn’t want to fuck us. Wild right? Still, there’s lots of Eddie in here too 💕

The summer heat always feels extra sticky inside Eddie’s trailer this time of year, the stale breeze that floats through his cracked window does nothing to cool you down. Thumbing through the worn covers of the records Eddie keeps in his room you hum along to the last few chords of Ride The Lightning. When the covers of Back In Black and Blizzard of Oz stick together, you grimace as you pull them apart. A crumpled cut of a babe from a Heavy Metal Magazine is the ‘glue’ that was holding them together.

“Eww Eddie! What the fuck?” god, your best friend was gross.

Clumsy loud footsteps bring him to the entrance of his room, bangs sticking to his forehead from sweat, his face flushes an even deeper shade of red when his eyes zero in on what you’re glaring at.

“I - uh,” coughing nervously, he scratches the back of his neck, the chain wrapped around his wrist sliding down his arm, “I don’t - I don’t know how that got there.”

Scoffing with a roll of your eyes you examine it a little more closely, careful not to touch it. The blond hair and the big blue eyes were a dead give away why this had to have been his favorite.

“She kinda looks like Chrissy don’t you think? Like if she got a metal makeover or whatever you’d call this,” snorting when his face turns into a tomato, his own glare takes over his features when he narrows his eyes at you.

“Why are you even snooping through my records, this one just started?” blinking quickly with embarrassment he looks like he’s ready to explode and you’ve never been more pleased with yourself.

Opening your mouth ready to bite back with something that you were sure was going to send him over the edge, the sound of three quick knocks followed by a single fourth one cuts you off before you can even start.

“Who’s that?” confused at his lack of communication with anyone crashing your hang out, he snaps - gesturing for you to step away from his records before he answers you.

He’s halfway out his bedroom door with you quick on his heels when he finally does.

“Jonathan and his friend from Cali are here to pick up real quick,” groaning at the sound of Jonathan’s name, Eddie laughs loudly before signaling for you to shut up with a finger to his lips.

It wasn’t that you hated Jonathan, he was just always such a downer when he’d join in on your smoke sessions.

Opening the door when you cross your arms with a nod signaling you’ll behave, he turns his charismatic Munson charm up to a ten with a wide grin.

“Byers,” giving him a slight bow, he extends his tattooed arm wide inviting them in, “Byer’s friend.”

You see Jonathan first, who gives you an awkward small wave and a tight lipped grin, lifting three fingers you give him the same energy.

“Oh hey man, the name’s Argyle excited to see what kinda weed you got out here,” Jonathan’s cute friend that follows him in was not what you expected as he clasps his hands together rubbing his palms excitedly stepping through the threshold.

Chestnut hair longer than Eddie’s sways as he walks in, the top of it hidden by a flipped bill green cap. Its smooth texture makes your hand twitch, you’re almost positive it’d feel like silk against your fingertips. A big dopey smile graces his full pink tinged lips as his already bloodshot brown eyes meet yours when he finally turns to see you in the hallway.

All the loud colors and clashing designs on his clothes makes the corners of your mouth tug up. Curiosity piqued, you throw him a more flirtatious wave, fluttering your lashes for good measure.

Eddie rolls his eyes from behind him catching onto your antics, but Argyle looks like he’s been turned to stone, frozen in place as he takes in your barely covered frame. Leaning a shoulder against the wall you watch his eyes trail up the uncovered expanse of your legs till he hits the frayed ends of your jean shorts, your spaghetti strap tank top gives him the perfect view of the curve of your breasts barely hidden beneath the thin fabric. Sweat beading off your heat kissed skin.

Clearing his throat he shakes his head when he feels his jaw go slack, glancing worriedly at Eddie who’s already too busy rummaging around the living room looking for his trusty metal lunch box.

“Don’t mind her, she’s just my partner in crime,” waving a dismissive ringed hand in your direction as he digs behind the couch Jonathan just got settled on, Argyle’s face falls slightly at the nickname.

That still didn’t stop him from watching you push yourself off the wall and walk to the kitchen island, sitting yourself on the cleared spot on top. Legs moving to the beat of the music still bleeding out from the speakers in Eddie’s room, you knew he was completely transfixed on you as he rocked back on his heels.

“Got it boys!” cheering himself on loudly, it’s your turn to roll your eyes.

“Only you would lose your lunch box full of drugs Munson,” winking at Argyle after you roast your best friend, his smile turns shy when he looks away.

“Bold of you to insult me when you smoke for free,” squinting with threatening eyes, he flips the lid open, the metal connecting with the wood of the coffee table in a loud clunk.

Sticking your tongue out at him he scoffs before turning his attention towards Jonathan pulling out two different bags of the new strains Rick had just supplied him with.

Argyle watches you both with confused eyes, unsure what to think of your banter as he feels the shift in your stare. The heat of it makes all the blood rush to his cheeks when he dares to meet it. Waving him over, you remind him to actually finish walking in. Eyes going wide at the realization, he looks down as he walks over to stand in the space right next to you.

Leaning his back against the formica countertop, your knee brushes the side of his arm with every small kick of your dancing feet. He smells like the kind of weed that makes you feel bad for whatever Eddie’s about to sell them and a hint of an earthy toned cologne. Dark eyes lifting up to yours, his breath catches in his throat when you meet his gaze instantly.

“Sooo, how’s it going?” purposely nudging him this time, you get a smile to finally break across his nervous face.

“It’s uhh- it’s good, Jonathan’s mom is super nice. Her cooking is shmackin,” giggling a little, he told himself it was because of the lingering effects of the weed they smoked on the way here, not because of the way you sucked your bottom lip between your teeth as you listened.

“Oh yeah, dinner at Joyce’s is always a hit. She really is the sweetest,” eyes crinkling in the corners when you grin at him, he was even cuter this close.

“How long are you visiting?” resting your chin on your shoulder when you look up at him, the height difference is still noticeable despite your advantage. His cheeks turn bubble gum pink at your flirty questioning.

“Just for a few weeks, I don’t want to put them out too much you know? She’s got a full house over there with everyone back,” you catch a hint of sadness in his mellow voice. He missed his best friend, that was more than evident. The thought of only seeing Eddie a few weeks out of the year sounded miserable.

“So you and Jonathan huh? How’d that even happen?” The difference in their personalities was astounding, but even you had to admit that Byers came back from California a little more relaxed. Meeting Argyle you’re starting to figure out why.

“Ahh yeah, dudes was like having a total meltdown at school one day about some stuff with Nancy, I felt bad you know, he looked like someone kicked his dog.” Glancing over at his friend he laughs at the memory.

“So I just showed him the ways of Purple Palm Tree delight and the rest was history.” Smirking proudly when he looks at you, his eyes briefly drift towards your lips curled up into their own grin.

“Finally! Someone got Byers to chill out!” Your praise is loud enough to get a side eye from Jonathan and a laugh from his cute friend.

“It’s super nice of you to come all this way to visit Argyle, I hope you make the most of your time here,” sweetness drips from your words making his eyes grow as big as saucers when he catches the slight invitation hidden inside them.

Jonathan finally speaks loud enough for the whole room to hear, snapping your attention away from the pretty stoner boy.

“Are you guys going to the party at Rick’s tonight?” shoving the bag of weed he just bought in his back pocket, his beady eyes dart between you and Eddie.

Argyle’s still in his own world and Eddie’s got a front row seat to his completely smitten gaze dead set on your face. Despite being annoyed with you all afternoon, you’d always been a good wingman when he needed it. Lips pulling up in a mischievous smirk he wiggles his eyebrows at you before answering.

“We are!”flipping the lid to his lunch box shut with obnoxious force, you’re truly shocked he hasn’t broken it yet with his need for dramatic flair.

The sound of metal clanking loudly snaps Argyle out of whatever lovesick daze you already had him in from just from batting your lashes and showing a little interest. His eyes connect with Eddie's, a sheepish look taking over his face from being caught openly gawking.

“We are? what part-“ Eddie glares at you before cutting you off.

“The party I was literally just telling you about before they got here,” he looks pointedly at the boy shuffling his feet next to you.

Argyle’s eyes stay fixated on the dirty carpeted floor doing his best not to stare, completely oblivious to the way Eddie was trying to help him out, not scold him.

Glancing over at the cowering boy, it’s like a light bulb flashes on top of your head when you realize Eddie was trying to help you get laid.

“Ohhh that party! Sorry, stoner memory you know?” bumping your shoulder with his, your lips twist up in a grin when the chocolate of his eyes meet yours, “Totally going”

The look on Argyle’s face is hard to read as a mixture of excitement and fear cross over his features at the same time. Shifting uneasily, he keeps looking at Eddie from the corner of his eye but he can’t stop the smile that slowly spreads across his soft lips, big pearly whites flashing at you.

“C-cool, I’ll totally see you there,” coughing as he scratches the back of his neck before quickly turning his attention to Eddie, “And uhh- you too man, I’ll uh see you there too!” the last part comes out loud enough to be a yell, his nerves making his voice shake.

“Uhhh, yeah man. For sure,” Eddie’s tone is laced with confusion, eyebrows raised in question as he looks at Argyle like he’s growing a second head.

Jonathan looks at his friend with wide eyes, his cheeks turning rosy from embarrassment from his outburst. Shaking his head, he stands up with a pat on his thighs - giving the universal gesture for ‘it’s time to go’

“Alright, well this got awkward. I think we’re gonna head out, we’ll see you guys tonight,” beckoning his friend to follow him towards the front door, he steals one last look at you before almost tripping over his own feet following Jonathan, flashing you a lopsided grin.

Shutting the door behind them Eddie turns to you with a smirk that you want to smack off his face.

“Look if that’s what you’re into -“ you throw a stray Readers Digest at Eddie before he has a chance to finish teasing you.

“Oh? Would you like him more in a pleated skirt waving some Pom Pom’s for Jason and his goons?” jumping off the counter you go for the jugular, your smirk growing when you get the same hard glare from earlier in his room.

“Listen, Caspian likes who he likes. I’m just the guy behind the wheel,” hands raised in mock defense, you snort rolling your eyes walking away with crossed arms.

“Eddie, your dick isn’t the Prince of fucking Narnia,” his boisterous laugh booms over the music and your glad he can’t see the way your lips twitch up at his antics, butterflies making their way inside your stomach at the thought of seeing Argyle’s goofy smile again again.

——

You’ve always hated parties, especially Reefer Rick parties. Messy and way too loud, it wasn’t just the usual crowd at Harrington's, dodging leering stares around every corner, you cling to Eddie’s arm as a deterrent.

“I don’t know what you were thinking wearing that skirt to Rick’s,” laughing at the permanent look of disgust that was stuck on your face as the two of you weave through the crowd, you turn your head up to stick your tongue out.

“You’re gonna give that poor kid a heart attack,” Eddie shakes his head when he sees the Cheshire smile that takes over your face as you approach the makeshift drink station, “Death by bone - Byers!”

Eddie’s outburst makes you jump when your eyes meet Argyle’s from over the keg on the dining room table, the stoned grin on his face faltering when he sees your arm wrapped tightly around Eddie’s. Big brown eyes only grow bigger when he gets a glimpse of the expanse of your legs and another thin tank top covering your chest like earlier, leaving little for his imagination.

The rosy color comes back to his cheeks when you let go of Eddie as you approach with a smile that seemed to be reserved just for him pretty on your glossed lips.

“Hey Argyle,” breathy and smitten, your own cheeks heat up when the corner of his mouth turns up, lopsided just how you like.

“Hey - wow, you look - wow - yeah you look gorgeful,” stumbling over his words, Jonathan looks exasperated with his best friend already, “I mean gorgeous, err — um beautiful.”

Jonathan raises his eyebrows in a greeting at you before taking a sip from his red solo cup, doing his best to ignore the stuttering mess next to him as he greets Eddie with their dude shake.

Argyle catches Eddie’s passive stare and it only seems to make him more nervous.

“Hey man, you look, you look uhh great too!” stammering a little less, his voice raises a few octaves borderline yelling just like in the living room earlier.

“Careful Argyle, keep smooth talking me like this and I’m gonna think you want me and not my friend here,” Eddie winks with a dimpled grin spread wide across his face before he scopes out the scene of the party. Zeroing in on a home base on the couch in the living room that sat miraculously unoccupied.

“Think I’m gonna post up, you know what they say ‘When in Rome’,” he gestures with his head to the spot to Jonathan, “Wanna join? I got a joint with our name on it.”

“Isn’t Rick gonna get pissed at you for selling at his house?” finally tearing your eyes away from Argyle who’s openly gaping at Eddie, you look up at your best friend.

“Pffft, please. It’s not like he’s not going to see the fruits of my labor, it’s fine, trust me. He’s probably already plastered and passed out on his waterbed anyway,” shrugging off your concern he looks at Jonathan expectantly.

“You good with that buddy?” clapping a hand on his friend's back, Argyle’s brown eyes dart back and forth between you and Eddie, repeating the words “my friend” like he was trying to solve a puzzle.

“Yeah, he’ll protect me from all the creeps won’t you,” grabbing his hand, the heat of his palm is an instant comfort against yours. Sucking your bottom lip between your teeth you look up at him from under your lashes. His cheeks turn the color of cherry blossoms when he finally meets your stare, squeezing your hand gently, he looks back at the two boys finding his nerve.

“Yeah I’ll protect this pretty little princess with my life man,” saluting your best friend, Eddie raises his eyebrows seemingly unimpressed before turning back to Jonathan.

“Ready?” ignoring Argyle’s pledge you snort at Eddie’s casual bitchiness.

“Yeah, let's go. Look, be cool man, don’t take anything anyone here offers you, got it? I’m not taking care of you again like that time you ate the mushrooms you found in the woods,” Jonathan looks a lot like the guy you’d always known talking to his friend like he would his little brother with a finger pointed in Argyle’s face.

“There'll be no mushroom consumption on my watch, Byers,” mocking Argyle’s salute, your antics earn an eye roll from Eddie knowing damn well if the offer was given to both of you, you’d fold.

“Alright! You kiddos, have fun and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” Eddie grabs Jonathan by the shoulders aggressive enough to have his beer slosh over the lid and you were almost positive that annoyed scowl would be stuck on his face all night.

Watching them till they both got lost in the crowd of bodies, you and Argyle finally dare to face each other. The air between you thickening now that you were alone, and he was still very much holding your hand.

“Do-“

“How-“

It was like a cheap rom com the way you both went to talk at the same time, cheeks heating up as you both look at the ground, a new shyness taking over. Squeezing his hand you encourage him.

“You first,” soft and sweet, you swear you his pupils dilate from the way you look at him.

Argyle gets the same expression on his face Eddie does when he’s forced to talk to Chrissy when she comes to buy weed for her friends. He was silently hyping himself up. Straightening his shoulders he clears his throat before the smile that made your stomach do flips graces his kissable lips.

“Can I get the pretty lady a beveregino?”

A stumbling drunk someone knocks into you before you have a chance to give an answer. Flying into his chest he lets go of your hand to grab at your hips, helping you regain your balance. The slurred apology falls on deaf ears when you and Argyle lock eyes from this close, chest to chest his fingers dig into you just enough to notice.

“I’m not much of a drinker, more of a stoner. Wanna go by the lake? I stole a joint from Eddie before we left,” grinning with pride at your sticky fingers, his lips twitch up, eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Woman after my own heart, hell yeah! Let's blow this popsicle stand,” turning you around he keeps his hands on your hips, lips coming close to your ear from behind, “Lead the way my weed smoking goddess”

Goosebumps rise, dancing across your skin at the feeling of his warm breath fanning down your neck as you lead him through the crowd. His hands never leave their spot from your hips, their grip tightening as you get closer to the sliding glass door that takes you out to Rick’s backyard.

Stepping onto the wooden deck he finally lets you go, there’s just a few stragglers outside smoking cigarettes too lost in their own conversation to notice the two of you. The air has lost most of its humidity, leaving the night in a post heatwave glow. The stars gleam bright next to the moon in the clear night sky, reflecting off the water it lights your way as you walk hand in hand down to the lake. Stealing glances at him from the corner of your eye the whole way down, you catch him doing the same thing, both of you giggling every time your eyes meet.

Finding a place nestled next to Rick’s boat house, you were far enough from the party for the loud music and constant chattering to seem like a faint noise in the background. The laps of the water hitting the shore take center stage as you curl your legs under your thighs when you sit like the princess he claimed you to be on the plush grass.

His knee brushes yours when he plops down Indian style next to you, his curious eyes follow yours as you look down at your exposed cleavage. Digging into your bra you pull a perfectly rolled joint with a smug smirk on your face, twirling it around in your dainty fingers he can’t help but throw his head back and laugh.

“I thought chicks only did that in movies, that’s some secret spy shit,.” the smile he gives you makes you want to squirm, “Crafty and beautiful.”

Not used to the kind of confidence he was giving you alone like this, you bite your lip to try and hide your smile as you tuck your hair behind your ears.

“Please, Eddie’s just oblivious,” scoffing, your face feels like the hottest part of the day from words that were sweeter than the ice cream cone you had earlier at Benny’s.

“I think it’s a little bit of both,” winking as he leans back, eyes watching you the way every woman dreams of as you search for a lighter.

“I think Eddie still has the lighter,” the cute pout that pulls at your bottom lip has his fingers twitching.

Holding up his index finger he starts digging through his multicolored jogger pockets.

“No need to worry, I’ve got us covered beautiful,” pulling out a bright yellow Surfer Boy Pizza one, he hands it to you with a lazy lopsided grin.

“My hero,” leaning forward as you snatch it, you dare to press a chaste kiss on his cheek as a token of your gratitude.

His eyes go wide enough to see the whites behind them and that perfect kind of smile that pushes against his cheeks is almost brighter than the moon hanging in the sky.

Scooting closer when you flick the lighter, the breeze that washes over the lake has other plans when it keeps snuffing the flame out. After the third failed attempt Argyle scoots closer, shoulders and thighs touching his big hands cover yours as a shield.

“Thank you,” daring to look at him from this close, his eyes meet yours almost instantly, catching the way they flutter down to your lips and how he has to wet his own after.

Tearing your gaze away, you focus on lighting the joint, the flame catching almost instantly with his help. Twirling it around so it burns even, he lets his hands fall at the same time as you. The palm of yours landing on the top of his, your eyes meeting again as you hollow out your cheeks taking the first hit. He just smirks, not moving an inch, the heat of his body is warm against your skin from this close.

The silence is comfortable as the two of you pass the joint back and forth for a while, fingers brushing purposefully with every hand off. Leaning completely against each other with pinkies hooked between you, he’s the one that breaks the silence when you hit the middle of the joint.

“So have you lived here your whole life?” plucking at the grass next to him he looks up at you with soft eyes as you finish filling your lungs.

“Yep, pretty much. My parents lived in Indianapolis till I was three then moved here for a quieter life,” snorting at the cliche of it, you pass him the joint, “What about you? Always been in California?”

“Yeah, it’s just me and my mom. She’s like the best ever though, so, you know I don’t really need anyone else but her,” taking a big hit of the joint so he didn’t have to elaborate further, you changed the subject.

“Would you ever leave? Like, move somewhere else?” it’s your turn to pick at the grass, the nerves of getting to know a boy getting the best of you.

“What? Like here?” smirking at you when he hands you the joint, your cheeks heat up at what he’s implying.

“No! Don’t move to Hawkins, there’s nothing here,” smiling around the end of the joint you take a hit to distract yourself from his playful stare.

“I don’t know, it seems pretty cool to me so far,” you don’t miss the way his pinky squeezes yours after the sentence leaves his mouth, eyes looking at you pointedly daring you to catch on.

“You wouldn’t survive the winters, I’m sure of it,” looking at him from under the hood of your lashes, your teeth tug at your bottom lip barely hiding your smile when you hand him back the joint.

“What about you? Do you wanna move?” his eyes glaze over when he takes his hit starting to reach the end of it, your bodies buzzing with the high and the excitement of a new crush.

“More than anything, Community College is just really cheap out here and I don’t know what I want to do yet, so the plan is to move anywhere that's not here after I figure that out,” sighing at the thought of finally leaving Hawkins you meet his gaze when you feel the chocolate of his eyes on you.

“I’m going to Community College too! And I also don’t know what I’m doing! Look at us two peas in a pod man,” he’s loud with excitement sending you into a fit of giggles and you lean even deeper into his side as he hands you the joint.

“Just need Eddie hurry it up, he finally graduated but he still has to take two summer school classes. We’re supposed to do this college thing together,” he catches the small frustrated pout you try to hide.

It’s quiet for a minute, the elephant in the room coming back as the sound of the water and crickets fill your ears.

“So you and Eddie like never..?” not bold enough to meet your side eye after the question leaves his mouth, you smirk as you take another rip. Exhaling slowly before handing it back to him.

“We’ve known each other since we were kids so naturally, we tried kissing once. It happened the summer before Junior year,” sticking your tongue out like there was a bad taste in your mouth, the memory makes you shudder, “Too weird, we’re too close.”

Argyle just nods trying to keep his poker face as he takes a hit when he hears that Eddie has actually kissed you before, but you catch on quick.

“Besides, despite the metal appearance,” leaning closer like you were about to indulge in a secret you whisper, “He likes cheerleaders.”

Earning a snort from him the smoke of his inhale flows freely out his nose and mouth as he chuckles at your antics.

“And I like pizza delivery boys, especially cute ones from California,” the weed settles enough to make you feel bold and you watch him freeze at your flirty words.

He slowly meets your gaze, bloodshot eyes scanning your face for any trace of humor but he’s only met with the hungry look in yours staring at his lips, and he swears your brows furrow with want when your tongue glides across wetting your bottom lip.

“Yeah?” his voice cracks when he puts out the remainder of the joint into the ground, angling his body more towards yours.

Nodding, you squeeze your hooked pinky with his silently begging him to give you what you want.

Taking your cue, he leans forward close enough for your noses to touch, the hesitation to fully commit has your lips brushing feather light against his. You can taste the last of the joint as you breath each other in, grabbing a fist full of his shirt when you’ve finally had enough, you close the gap with a satisfied hum when they mold instantly with yours.

It feels like the Fourth of July behind your closed lids, still a month away but the fireworks you swear you feel blur your vision when you lose yourself in him. Begging for more when your tongue swipes across his bottom lip, he groans low when he gives you everything you want. Tongues and teeth clash together desperate like years of pining finally come to an end despite it being less than a day, maybe it was the weed or maybe it was him, but it feels like it’s everything you want and more.

The initial intensity dwindles as you start to move lazy and slow against each other. Taking his time, he savors every giggle and gasp he pulls from you. Your hands find their way into his long hair, it’s even softer than you imagined when your fingers run through it. His hat falls off when you give it a gentle tug at the base of his neck.

Working up enough courage to pull you on his lap, he swallows your moan when you feel the bulge in his pants. The lace panties you wore just for him and the thin material of his joggers is the only thing between you and what’s underneath. Your skirt sits bunched up at your hips with his hands and you can’t help it when you rock against him, feeling every inch of him against your clit.

Pulling you down closer, his lips take a break from yours to make their way over your jaw and down the curve of your neck. Nipping and sucking against all the sweet spots that sit nestled just behind your ear. A high pitched whine escapes you when he applies just the right amount of pressure with his teeth, smiling against your skin, his nose nudges against your earlobe, a soft “Yeah?” sending your nerves down your spine.

His hands make their way to your thighs squeezing at the soft fat before his fingertips drag their way across the expanse of them finding their new home at the curve of your ass. Toying with the sides of your underwear you collect his lips again with your fingers holding onto his chin.

Rocking with a little more force when your tongues meet again, his hands grip you harder making you bite his lip in response.

“You- you can touch me,” your voice is quiet when you dare to say the words out loud, his lips stopping abruptly against yours.

“A-are you sure?” his eyes look black even in the moonlight when they meet yours from over the bridge of your nose.

Nodding against him, you encourage his hand as your lips meet his again, pulling your panties to the side he groans loud into your mouth when he’s met with your slick folds coating his fingertips.

“Holy shit, I can’t believe you’re real,” staring up at you, he’s mesmerized at the way you shudder when the pads of his long fingers rub circles on your clit.

Mewling when he lets the tip of his middle finger poke at your entrance, you dig your nails into his broad shoulders when he finally pushes one in, your velvet walls gripping him hard, pulling him deeper. His hips jut up at the sensation only adding to how good it all feels.

“G- god Argyle don’t - don’t stop please,” your demand comes out as a whine when he adds a second finger, curving them slightly brushing that spongy spot inside of you.

“I like that, I like when you say my name like that,” the pad of his thumb meets your bundle of nerves as you start to shamelessly ride his hand, the need to cum taking over all the bashfulness from before.

“Yeah?”

Nodding against the side of your face he nips at your jaw before taking your lips, the strokes of his fingers becoming more deliberate.

He manages to say, “Do it again” between kisses as he curves his fingers once more, getting him exactly what he asked for.

Kisses turn sloppy as you get closer to your release, your hands leave their place on his shoulders to dig at the roots at the nape of his neck, tugging the way that earned you a moan the last time.

He increases the speed of his fingers, the sound of how wet you are is loud enough to be embarrassing but it only makes him twitch inside his pants as he thrusts up, your mouth falling open against his.

“I’m gonna - god - I’m gonna cum,” pulling his hair hard enough it should hurt, he only pushes himself deeper in response, the new intensity sending you over the edge.

“Yeah? Good, come on let me feel it,” his voice is hardly recognizable the moment those words come out of your mouth. Deep and thick with want, it has your thighs shaking as you drench his fingers, face buried in the crook of his neck you let your orgasm wash over you like a storm.

“Jesus, you look like an angel right now,” his voice comes out like a whisper, almost like he’s saying it to himself.

His hips stop their movements as his fingers slow their pace when he feels your body start to calm down, pulling them out despite the fight of your walls they keep fluttering around nothing from the aftershock.

Your gasp is quiet against his skin when you don’t feel so full anymore. You’re too stoned and too tired to open your eyes when you hear the sound of him sucking his fingers clean.

“You’re sweeter than fucking pineapple, I swear,” chuckling at his own revelation your lips tug up into a smirk finally having the strength to meet his gaze.

“You like pineapple?” you had no idea the question would elicit such a strong response until his face lit up like a Christmas tree.

“Do I like pineapple? Do I like -“ Jonathan’s panicked voice rings out over the lake interrupting the out of body experience Argyle was about to have about fruit.

“Come on guys, Rick kicked Eddie out for selling at his party!”

[pholla-jm]

Sukuna with a S/O who has a sweet tooth/Loves eating sweets ?? :00

Like imagine most of the time they go on a date it's basically just reader and him going to different shops trying out desserts and sweets

Hello! Sorry it took me awhile! I got busy with work and my new class had just started. I decided to add some more to this. I hope you like it!! *********

Sweet Tooth

IMAGINE: SWEET TOOTH~ SUKUNA X READER FEAT: GOJO GENRE: FLUFF cw: modern au! implied female reader, sukuna calls your woman. not proof read. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Whenever Sukuna took you out, you would make him stop for a sweet treat. It could be for the slightest thing. Groceries? Sweet treat. Getting gas? Sweet treat? 

You will use any excuse to get sweet treats. 

This time, there was no real reason to convince Sukuna that you needed a sweet treat. Only that there was a new café opening up. Taking a quick glance at what would be on their menu, you already decided that you needed to go. It had most of your favorite pastries and drinks. 

“Please, Sukuna.” You pleaded to your boyfriend with your hands clasped together. You had asked him to take you, but you knew how much he didn’t care for places like that. He didn’t like the options they provided; they always smelled so sweet. And it sometimes stuck to his clothes. 

Sukuna has already decided to go with you, though. He would do anything for you. However, that didn’t mean he wouldn’t make it easy for you. He loved to see you like this. 

“Please, I’ll make it worth your while.” 

Sukuna smirks at your words. 

“I’ll hold you to that.” 

Your face lit up at his words, “so does that mean you’ll take me?” 

“Yeah, brat.” 

“Yay! Thank you!” You say while wrapping your arms around his ample shoulders. 

Sukuna chuckles, squeezing you tight in return. 

When the time came, Sukuna couldn’t believe he agreed to something like this. Since the place was pretty new, there were a lot of people. The theme was coquette, which Sukuna wasn’t fond of. 

Sukuna settled with matcha mochi and coffee. In contrast, you had the most sickening sweets in front of you. 

When Sukuna looks at all of it, his stomach almost churns in disgust. But when he sees you gleam at the desserts and take happy bites, it erases his dislike for the sweet treats. He would spend hours in places like this to see your happy face. 

“What’s so great about these treats anyway?” Sukuna asks you. 

You were about to answer, but someone interrupted you. Someone that neither of you wanted to see. 

“Ooh, can I have some of that?” You look up to see the bright blue-eyed man named Gojo. 

“Ugh, no get away.” You say while shoving him away. 

“Awe, come on.” He pouts at you. 

Sukuna frowns at seeing Gojo. “Get away from (y/n).” 

Gojo’s eyes flicker over to the brooding man. His arms were crossed as he glared at Gojo. 

An annoying smirk now sits on his face, “why? Scared I might take her away?” 

Sukuna’s hand slams down on the table, and your face twists disgustingly. 

“Oh my god.. You’re so embarrassing niisan.” You whisper to Gojo, but Sukuna hears it. 

The anger slowly dissipates from his body, and confusion fills his head. 

“Brother?” He mumbles. 

“What? I can’t protect my little sister?” 

While the two of you bicker, Sukuna glances back and forth. 

Gojo and you didn’t look alike. Not a single feature looked the same. Some things are similar, like the hyper personality… and the major sweet tooth. 

“Well, I got to go. Thanks.” Gojo says after taking a bite of one of your cakes. 

He gives you a smug look before waving bye. 

“Ugh,” You groan before turning to Sukuna, “I’m sorry about him.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me he was your brother?” 

You look at him in confusion, “I didn’t?” 

Sukuna gives you a look, “I think I would remember something like that.” 

“Huh, sorry. I guess it just slipped.” 

“How does something like that slip?” 

You purse your lips, “well whenever I’m not around him… I just seem to not worry about him. You know?” 

Sukuna looks at you, a bit confused, which means you will explain it further. 

“Satoru and I aren’t full siblings. Same mom but different dads. But Gojo has always been the golden child. Everything is about him. He always got everything he wanted, but me? I was lucky to even be in the same room as him.” You chuckle while shaking your head. 

“So, it’s nice not having him around. I can do whatever I want without him around.” 

Sukuna nods, “and have whatever you want as well.” 

You smile at his words, “Yeah. I guess you’re right.” 

Sukuna scoffs, “of course I’m right, woman.” 

You laugh and shake your head. “It wasn’t long ago that I discovered my love for sweets. I never got sweets as a child, since Satoru hogged them all.” 

Sukuna smiles at you and leans forward. He grabs a napkin, wiping some of the icing away from the corner of your lips, “that just means I’ll have to spoil you more than.” 

Your face turns pink at his words and actions. 

“I’ll hold you to that.”

[drasilfaemir]

SUN'S OUT TONGUE'S OUT

My entry for the Unsounded Fanworks Contest and tribute to the bestest girl Pantoffel! If you like it please give it a vote!

Edit: Holy shit you guys! I won?! Thanks to all who voted and hope you enjoyed it!

In the meantime, here are some detail photos and a breakdown of the work that went into making it under the cut, featuring the bestest boi and model, my pupper Sharky. Scroll to the end for a special treat!

The saddle is real leatherwork at a tiny scale. Everything patterned, wet-shaped, dyed, finished, and assembled by yours truly. The saddle blanket is custom-made to match as well. The seat of the saddle is stitched to the base just at the front and back to allow the pieces to move in relation to each other for a more comfortable fit.

The pommel and backrest are both modeled and 3D printed by yours truly as well, with sports tape for the fabric on the pommel. Both are attached using rivet backings set through hollow points in the prints.

From the back more detail can be seen for the backrest. It is wet-shaped and stretched over the base, and then flathead pins were cut short and turned into the tiniest nails to nail it in place. No glue was used at all in it's construction.

The collar was constructed so that it fit around Sharky's head and then the tension in the straps under his legs pulled it tight. Those straps are attached to loops placed in the stitching with lobster clasps. Much of the construction is hidden in his majestic chest fluff, but a good chunk of it can be seen here.

And now on to his co-star, Captain Emil Toma!

This was a Finn action figure that I did heavy modifications to. Original details were mostly sanded off for a vaguely person-shaped base thar I then sculpted details back onto with epoxy-putty. Even his face recieved a bit of shaping to change the underlying bone structure to match Emil better. All of the original joints still move save for his left wrist, which needed to be sealed in place lest his hand fall off. The gun the figure was holding was replaced by his sword. I decided to stick to mostly early/mid-comic designs, picturing this as a toy a Crescean kid might play with before the events of the comic take place.

From the back we can see the leather pouch which was hand-stitched together and attached with a rivet back. It's fully functional and can store approximately 4 quarters in it. The scabbard was 3D printed with a peg for attachment purposes and the parts that 'hold' it to the sash are clothing tags.

The sash itself is fabric and held in place with fashion tape. Edges were melted to seal them and then folded under to allow me more control over how they wrinkle. The badge is hand-sculpted from the same epoxy-putty used to modify the body. It's about as tall as my thumbnail and I have never wished for a resin printer more ardently than when I was sculpting it with a straight pin.

Proportionally the two of them are nearly perfect together! But, regrettably, the figure was too heavy to sit in the saddle on his own. Especially on a dog that can out-run a dalmatian! Hence why they were photoshopped together for the final image.

I hope you enjoyed this tour of the utter insanity that has been my free time for the last few months. I actually started this before the contest was announced...and through some setbacks and bad timing of life events still didn't get done until the last minute. As promised, here is your special treat!