#he just has the aura even without emotions...

[cherry-mash]

ENTER NYASHA! :D stop trying to make fetch a thing, yonji

first / previous

[nerogore]

the people who think vergil is some emotionless chad who exists purely to ‘aura farm’ or whatever the fuck actually piss me off i cannot STAND that side of the dmc fandom.

another rant nobody but me cares about but lorddd i gotta type this out somewhere. also wanna preface this by saying it’s about pgr vergil, but also just vergil in general, and directed at the people i mentioned above.

firstly — no it’s not ‘out of character’ for vergil to show vulnerability or emotion, he is a deeply emotional person. he feels deeply, he sees the world deeply, and he hurts so deeply that his motivation centred around being able to prevent himself from being harmed any more. he just isn’t (wasn’t) good at expressing that without violence pre-dmc5.

punishing grey raven did a really great job of capturing his post-dmc5 maturity, and it’s cohesive with the additional information we got in Visions of V regarding vergil’s inner thoughts. we simple haven’t seen enough of vergil outside of battle to be able to fully grasp how he’d act when he is free of chasing an ultimate goal, and is in a domestic, (mostly) relaxed situation.

it’s the people who’ve played approximately 5 hours total of ONLY dmc5, who then see clips of vergil in pgr that act all disgusted and get offended that vergil is actually capable of emotion and/or affection, who are the problem. they’re why vergil has been memed so much that people genuinely, honest to god(s) believe that he hates dante, he hates nero, and never cared at all. he gave nero his HEART, his book that he sees as an integral part of himself. the symbolism of him stating he wanted to be loved and protected, and then giving his ‘heart’ to be safeguarded by nero is so poetic (pun intended)!!! he literally trusts his son — after being with him while he was V, and fighting him as vergil at the qliphoth — to protect him.

vergil is capable of trusting, he is capable of affection, and he wants to be able to. it is in fact NOT out of character for him to express that (even if he sucks at doing so and is generally horrifically awkward about it. love the guy).

now don’t get me wrong — vergil is not a good person, and i’m not implying he is. he isn’t benevolent or kind or selfless, and he struggles (falls flat) at being empathetic to people he sees as more fortunate than him (such as dante, who he resented for being ‘better off’), but that doesn’t mean he’s incapable of experiencing varying degrees of love. for god’s sake, bury the light literally describes him as having ‘secret love, bloodline yearns.’ vergil is the pinnacle, the definition of emotionally constipated.

he was a total shithead and a real prick in dmc3. he was also a total shithead and a real prick in dmc5 (i mean that affectionately. but don’t get me started on urizen LOL) but he is as childish as dante is. he banters and holds silly grudges and competes with his brother like a teenager with something to prove. he calls dante an idiot for still saying ‘jackpot’ and then turns around and says it himself, because he secretly loves to.

and holy fuck that was a LOT longer than i intended this rant to be and i should be studying for my EngLang exam but oh well!!! shoutout to whoever reads this entire block of drivel.

ok bye :3

[candiyaa]

what would the upper ranks reaction to reader ignoring them after a fight ><

LOVEEE ITTT thanks for requesting, I didn't know if u mean to include Muzan or not but so I added him !! ⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍒ɞ˚‧｡⋆

WHEN THEIR S/O IGNORES THEM AFTER A FIGHT

MUZAN KIBUTSUJI

Completely unfazed at first.

Genuinely couldn't care less, he believes his point was valid and that you're overreacting.

Stubborn +++

Although the hours are getting long and he won't admit it but he's getting bored without you.

Would intently stare at you from across the room hoping you'll catch on and come back to him.

Intense staring contest at that.

Lightly considered the idea of apologizing, then came back to his senses.

This word is not even in his vocabulary.

He would go back and forth silently in front of your room, monitoring checking on you in secret.

Well not that secret...cuz you can feel his tormented aura miles away.

It started to gnaw at him yet he couldn't break character and act all needy with you so he played it nonchalant : he went to go get your favs in a pretty basket (he might be a villain and manipulator but he does know and has studied well his s/o to their likes and dislikes) and came to give it to you. Yes with that "I just happened to find this stuff so now I'm giving it to you as an act of kindness" kinda vibe. He gently holds your hand as a little sign of affection, yet it's subtle. (HE JUST WANTED SOME CONTACT AFTER ALL THESE HOURS)

"It's okay to be wrong, you see. It's simply part of life, I presume."

"BUT YOU'RE THE ONE WHO WAS WRONG-"

"Shhh, just eat now. So noisy..."

KOKUSHIBO

Just like Muzan, he was genuinely stubborn on the fact that his point was valid.

Gave you the silent treatment too.

Yet for certain reasons , he refused to leave your sides.

There was no talking. No nothing. Yet you could go in the kitchen to grab a drink, he'd be there too, doing his own thing. Leaving to go on the couch and relax in front of TV, there he is AGAIN, following you, reading a book in his fav armchair.

You even thought he was simply teasing you and trying to annoy you even more, and perhaps there was a bit of that too.

Yet it just genuinely felt so natural to be around you that he couldn't help it.

After some time, he'll just start staring at you, YES WITH THOSE SIX DAMN ETHEREAL EYES, NONSTOP. (no blinking either 😔..)

He wants to make you crack first because in his mind, he still doesn't see where is he at fault in all this.

He's more mature than Muzan tho and eventually starts to get tired of this little silent treatment game.

So, after some time ofc he's the first one to crack :

"Are you done being childish now ? I may have made a mistake, but then can we talk about it like grown adults ? I'm willing to apologize if you agree to have a talk about it."

DOMA

THAT DAMNN CRAZY AHH B

Laughs in your face.

Pushing your buttons to the very edge bc it amuses him.

Really having the best time of his life.

Though when you really get upset and give him the silent treatment, whole mood changes.

His facial expression changes, he's upset that you're upset.

And he's upset at himself for not understanding what really went wrong.

He leaves your side for some time.

Actually goes pondering and wonders if there's an emotion he didn't quite catch.

He eventually comes back, mask back on, boisterious personality back on and simply goes :

"Here, aren't these your favorite ? Ahh, it'd be such a shame if I had to eat them all by myself, don't you think ?"

Teases you with it. (Doma will forever stay Doma..)

You just know that it's his way of apologizing, so you simply accept and here you are, both on good terms again and eating sweets.

Although you did catch that tiny, genuine, reassured smiled even if it quickly disappeared as soon as you spotted it.

Creepy smile back on!!

AKAZA

He pauses.

Didn't actually mean to upset you.

Arguments are usually what he avoids yet this time it had to happen.

He spirals, wondering if his point was wrong or if he just didn't understand yours.

Deep pondering.

Completely against the idea of you giving him the silent treatment , if there's any misunderstanding, he wants to clear it as quickly as possible.

He's obviously the first to reach out, determined to have a talk with you.

Comes with your favs ofccc + flowers!!

"Hey, I think we both spoke in the heat of the moment and said things we didn't mean. I apologize if I upset you in any way, I just want to understand...Can we talk ?"

GYUTARO

Tries to play it cool and acts like it doesn't bother him whether you talk to him or not.

Pretends not to care.

“Tch…good, less naggin ig."

Internally panics.

Went to Daki for advices.

The silence really starts to get to him.

Will keep glancing your way then look away when your eyes lock.

When the silence gets too long, he starts to take it out on him, muttering to himself :

"Tch..well ofc they hate me now. They're all like that. Who wouldn't."

Hearing him say that, you came BOLTING, giving him the tightest hug EVERR.

Reassured him that none of it were true, but stayed firm on your point and talked abt what really upset you.

You both apologized for each other's behavior.

HANTENGU'S CLONES (minus zohakuten)

AIZETSU :

THE.END.OF.THE.WORLD

His s/o not talking to him = what is the meaning of life if my s/o is not in it ?

INSTANT CRAZY PANIC.

SO PANICKED HE EXPLODED, JUMPED OUT THE WINDOW, DID A BACKFLIP AND-

Okay more seriously now, he's super super extra scared.

So scared, you can't even stay mad at him seeing him eyeing you in a corner.

You're obviously the first one to crack and come to comfort him.

He did understand where he went wrong and apologized.

Pinky promise and everything's sorted out !

UROGI :

Instantly panics. He’s the most emotionally reactive of the clones and can't handle silence well. The moment you stop speaking to him, he paces around like a restless bird.

Tries to make you laugh by doing silly things.

Nudges you with his wing to make you react even a little.

Once you respond, even a little, he instantly lights up like he just won lottery.

He's CLINGY for hours afterward, afraid of making you upset again.

SEKIDO :

It started as a little argument yet things escalated pretty quickly and well he's not "Anger" for nothing..

He believes you overreacted and certainly will not apologize first

He mumbles in his corner angrily

Many hours after there he is STILL grumbling abt it again , (yk like moms when they keep talking when the argument is literaly supposed to be over 😭)

Gives you the silent treatment and thinks your reaction is childish

You had to come apologize first.

KARAKU :

Thought of it as a game at first.

Teased you and kept getting in your face.

Then started to catch on that you're really upset and will not talk to him until he apologizes.

Tries to make you laugh and succeed.

You did express what bothered you and he promised to do better in the future.

Here you are back on his lap, cuddling.

⋆˚✿˖° Heyy there I apologize for the delay but there it is !! I also apologize for the Hantengu's clones part I didn't have much imagination for that one lol Hope you guys liked it tho !! There might be grammar mistakes apologies once again... xoxo ⋆˚✿˖°

[onecheerfulmoron]

🔥🥵 Sex Appeal 🔥🥵

Powerful/Hypnotic/Magnetic

(These are based on my personal experience/observation)

* I differentiate sex appeal and god/goddess appeal (which I will make another post of :)*

*The following aspects are what I have & seen from other's charts and was able to witness their little superpower lol*

Sun/Rising/MC/Venus/Mars/Mercury conjunct Lilith

Sun/Rising/MC/Venus/Mars/Mercury conjunct Pluto

Sun/Rising/MC/Venus conjunct Mars

Sun/Rising/MC/Venus/Mars/Mercury conjunct Uranus

Sun/Rising/Moon/MC/Venus/Mars/Mercury/Saturn/Uranus/Pluto/Lilith/in the 1st, 8th, & 10th house

Any of those planets in Scorpio/Capricorn/or Leo

Trines/Opposition/Square/Sextile also apply. Conjunctions are the most powerful and/or tighter the orbs of the aspect. Orbs (0-3), the more prominent it plays out in your life. Orbs (4-7) is somewhat in the middle.

The way the sex appeal of the planets is emphasized by (Lilith, Pluto, & Mars) can be better understood by applying the planet's role to it.

Sun: Who you are. So your personality without a filter. *you can naturally get someone interested by being yourself. No masks are needed for you!

Ascendant/Rising: literally how you look anywhere anytime. Through your appearance, mannerism, & fashion sense. *You don’t have to do shit or try and people be like👼🏾 😳 🥵

Moon: the way you think is what you act upon. Whatever sign your moon falls under, you would execute the energy of that sign when people get to know you. I feel that whatever planet your moon is aspects by is how your mindset would operate. The house placement of the moon would show where your emotions run. *personally i think the placement/sign of the moon contributes more to sex appeal than the aspect itself.

Mercury: your voice and communication style. *It’s those people that can make anyone fall for them just by talking. They have this aura where people want to listen to them and find their sense of communication interesting & funny. Also, they are the treasure box of others dark secrets. People love telling them shit. Gossip holders plus sharp tongue ☕️.

Mars: your expression, enthusiasm, or when you display dominance/leadership. *At this point act manly or motivated whenever lol. Whether it's through a form of hobby to being authoritative, you will catch someone’s eye.

Venus: beauty, fashion style, the way you care for others, how you are in love, etc. Most people with these sex appeal aspects above involving Venus are highly desired to be in a relationship with by others. They can get someone wrapped around their fingers if they are naughty lol 😈.

MC: similar to Asc, but it’s like reputation matters so they make sure to play their part. So it's like dressing up or behaving a certain way in public to get the reaction they want which will be attained. Lowkey a chameleon. *I have noticed that MC is a more refined/mature type, probably bc the MC has to do with career as well.

Uranus: Being unique like an alien. Shocking, Magnetic, & Unique are how I would describe individuals with Uranus aspects. People will remember you 100% in someway, which depends on what it’s aspected by.

Pluto/Lilith: they both are powerful when it comes to intimidating others as well as getting others obsessed. Drawing jealousy also is relevant, unfortunately.

Examples:

I have a male friend who is a Scorpio with Lilith conjunct to his Sun & Mars. Man, he gets ladies of all ages flirting with him. They tell him their darkest secrets they don’t tell anybody else. I and my friend worked in the same office together. Ladies are walking past his cubicle like “Heyyyyy…*Name*. Why don’t you stop by my cubicle no more…..don’t you miss me lol”. Random ladies, he doesn’t even talk to on the other side of the office know his name, like what!

A girlfriend of mine has Venus conjunct Pluto. The girl be getting men left and right. She was on a bus one day and told me that a stranger kept looking at her and told her when they got off the bus if he got a chance. Mind you he was in his 40's. Even in high school, people were looking at her from afar and would try to hit on her eventually. She attracted men and females.

I have Mars conjunct Pluto and when I'm active or energetic, men are interested in me. So when I'm in a good mood and I have excessive energy whether at the gym or being a crazy girl in school they find me interesting and funny. Celebrities with these aspects are always known for their roles and the character they display versus too much of their real personality. Ex: Bella Thorne, James Corden, Jared Padalecki (supernatural show), etc.

Scorpio Sun with Moon in the 8th house. There was this guy I was interested in with this aspect. Man, I was digging through his entire past trying to know "the real him". Searched his name online to asking him multiple questions about himself to put the pieces together. I knew more about him than he knew about me. Yes, he was adopted and his dad was some sort of instructor lol, and No, I don't do that anymore. Don't have the next victim yet lol.

Uranus conjunct Sun individuals can get someone hooked unto them for their personality and energy. People are just fascinated by them and actually enjoy being with them. My friend’s cousin has this aspect and man she found herself in a relationship so quick. The guy didn’t give two shit about how she dressed or looked, but fell for her quirkiness. She has a unique sense of fashion too. My friend told me how she was jealous of her cousin because she can get random men’s attention so fast like love at first sight. Yes, she married quick too. That relationship was like 3 month long and are expecting a child!

I have Uranus trine my Mercury and yes people remember whatever I say. I went to the gym with my friend before and the front desk guys asked me a question and I guess I said some funny. Everytime I went to that gym, they remembered that one conversation. Even after I switched over to another gym, I saw one of the front desk guy from my last gym and he would tell me what I said from before. Like I gotta make sure I don’t say none stupid especially to someone important lol.

Scorpio moon individuals would be extra secretive than the sun. Our mind is where we hold our opinions/thoughts/secrets…and if it’s under the sign Scorpio then all shit is preplanned of what can and can’t be spoken to others. No matter what the sun sign may be, Scorpio moon individuals will limit what they tell others, therefore making them magnetic. People want to figure out what they’re hiding.

Do you have any stories with these aspects?

P.S.: Don't be judgy about my color coordination for MC. I don't have any other colorful buckets to choose from lol.

[yes-no-maybe-soo]

A couple of things that I love and admire about Sylus ♡♡♡

(This got long so decided to add a cut dhdjfj there is just too much to appreciate when it comes to this man ^^;)

For earlier parts in this "series": go here and here

How mentally and emotionally strong he is. His past never broke him or managed to twist or warp his soul. Which considering his background is incredibly impressive. This is a man that suffered severe trauma pretty much from infancy and onward for thousands of years. He is heavily implied to have been abandoned as a child due to being "weak". He self harmed at an early age. He witnessed the total slaughter of the only kin he'd known. He was nearly murdered himself for no other crime than looking different. He was tossed into the abyss to rot for over a millennia, stuck in place with a greatsword lodged through his chest. All of this happened while he was still a juvenile. He most likely hadn't experienced a single day of real happiness or care in his life up until meeting his sorceress. But even before they get properly close, he shows her kindness and compassion despite never having known any himself. We learn that he has never eaten a human soul, nor harmed anyone that didn't deserve it. When he dies, his soul is revealed to smell like flowers. He never lost his innate goodness. In the present, he also shows that same remarkable inner strength and stability, now even more noticeable with added age and further maturity.

How well he takes care of his people. All evidence points to him being an amazing boss and leader. It's especially touching to see how much the twins admire and appreciate him.

The effect he has on those that come under his wings. They all seem to flourish and come out stronger than they were before.

His aura. His scenes in LAR and his entire anecdote gives me chills to this day.

His perfect jawline. It's immaculate.

His honesty. He never lies to MC. Not even once. He doesn't ever whitewash himself and is upfront about his desires and his greed. Similarly, from what we've seen, he honors the deals he makes with anyone seeking his protection (No Way Out, Elysium).

His straightforwardness. On a personal level, as a ND individual, I appreciate this quality in others immensely since reading subtler signals more often than not isn't my forte and tends to stress me out trying to figure out what they are trying to convey to me. So it brings me comfort to see Sylus be straightforward with his feelings for MC. He may not always be direct with his words – both he and MC like to talk in riddles at times – but his actions and his demeanor always are.

His quick thinking and savvy.

Just his sharp intelligence in general. He is always eight or ten steps ahead of his opponents.

His sheer unwavering confidence and charisma. Both enough to fill the mariana trench.

How he is incredibly emotionally mature. He is calm, composed, never abuses the power he has, never lashes out, never loses control of himself. He isn't bitter, doesn't dwell on the past. He isn't brooding or hateful. And when MC tells him he sucks at something (giving a massage in the specific instance I'm thinking of) instead of getting annoyed or taking it personally, he asks her to teach him how to do it. When she says that he is pestering her, he accepts it and gives her the space she says she wants without arguing even a little. We have never once seen him fight with MC over anything. Nor can I even picture a scenaro where they would, try as I might. They're just too chill/emotionally intelligent to get heated or argumentative.

Overall his emotional strength and maturity shows itself best with MC. He definitely made major mistakes in his treatment of her at the start of LAR out of desperation and a misguided belief that the end justifies the means, but the moment he realizes that he has gone too far and that he needs to stop trying to force their past onto her, he stops. Nor does he ever try to manipulate or hold their soulbond over her head (he never even mentions it to her). Instead, he puts his all into building a relationship with the present her from scratch, on her terms, at her pace. He falls in love with and cherishes the present her, just as much as the past her. That is not to say though that all emotional scars have healed. Of course not. Whenever MC unknowingly makes those oddly specific references tied to the shared past she doesn't remember, it's bound to hurt him. But he handles it amazingly, staying composed. And he still aches for her to remember – but I suspect in large part for her sake rather than his. He wants her to know herself entirely, every single part. She deserves to know her history. But crucially, he never pushes the issue. All he does is make gentle references in the hopes that she might remember. But that's all. At the end of the day, on a personal level, if MC never recalls anything, then he'd be fine with that. He is overjoyed just to be a part of her life again, to hold her in his arms.

And imo the probably biggest instance of his maturity and strength? Being willing to let her go, if that is what she desires. Remember that MC represents everything good, beautiful, and joyous in his life. She is the best thing that happened to him. The one person to love, accept, and want him unconditionally. The sole individual to truly see the real him (the only one that dared or cared enough to try). After his resurrection he has yearned and searched the galaxies for her for an unknown but more than likely vast amount of years. And yet... he is willing to let go, for her sake. Even though it would destroy him on the inside. Because she is so much more important than his own desires.

Following on with the maturity theme, I admire the way he approaches losing. He isn't a sore loser but bears it with ease of mind, which isn't always the case with people like Sylus who are used to coming out on top. But to him, whether he wins at a competition or not doesn't affect his confidence or self worth, and he can readily acknowledge when he's been fairly beaten by an opponent. The only time he truly cares about winning is if MC wants him to. And then he'll make sure to win no matter what.

Another thing I admire is how he is so willing to adapt and adjust for MC and the love he bears her. For instance, Sylus is not by nature or temeprament a patient man. He wants to get things done and wants them done fast. A good example of this is in the most recent event, where he does not have the patience to let flowers grow naturally and so tries to force the process. However, when it comes to MC? He is willing to wait infinite lifetimes. He always walks at her pace when it comes to their relationship, and never pressures her. He gives her as much time as she needs to figure her feelings out. He is an impatient man willing and ready to be endlessly patient for his beloved

For all that he is down bad for MC, Sylus isn't a doormat nor spineless in regards to her. He won't just mindlessly agree and go along with whatever she wants but has a strong will, agenda, and boundaries of his own. He teases and bullies MC (affectionately), gives as good as he gets from her, and doesn't hesitate to call her out and/or fluster her for his own amusement. Leading to the banter we all know and love.

His ability to truly self reflect and grow. I am referencing what happens in and after LAR 1-8, where he disappears for a while after having gotten hit by a harsh but necessary reality check. My belief is that he went away initially to cry, but that he also did some major self reflecting. Afterwards, his behavior toward MC changes quite dramatically. He realized that he fucked up, and is determined to do and be better for her. And he never falters. We stan a person that recognizes they fucked up and learns from it. His character development and growth in general mean a lot to me.

How incredibly skilled he is at driving those mototcycles of his. No wonder MC feels safe riding with him no matter how fast they go or how dangerous the terrain.

That his crimes never affect innocents. Sylus has always made it a point only to harm or kill those who truly deserve it.

Despite how he claims never to have comforted anyone before, he is touchingly good at it. He is incredibly emotionally intelligent and attentive. He is always so quick to pick up on how MC is feeling, and he also knows when it's best to give advice, when it's best to act (ie send her something to comfort her, take her on a joyride etc), or when it's best to simply listen and be there for her. Most of the time he is incredibly in tune with her feelings and her needs.

And he can be so achingly tender when he comforts her. A great example of this is in Where Hearts Live, when at one point MC feels embarrassed and insecure about verbalizing how she feels. He is so patient and gentle, holding her close in his lap and rocking her, softly reassuring her that she can talk to him, that he wants to hear what she has to say. And there are other examples of his kindness, such as with animals and plants. A huge reason why this is so admirable to me is that Sylus is a man that has lived a rough life, and with few exceptions seen and dealt with the worst humanity has to offer. He has had precious few opportunities to witness or experience goodness or tenderness from others. And yet he has no trouble being either to those he cares for. It comes so naturally from him. Again, further proof that he has always at his core been compassionate and kind, and that those qualities have withstood throughout all the hardship and violence.

Lastly, I (naturally) greatly admire his hands. They are mesmerizing. Large and rough, yet elegant and beautiful. I can stare at them for hours and never get tired.

Ok I lied I also need to add his veins. Both on his hands and on his bulging arms.

[bunji-enthusiast]

Hey Bunji

This is my first time doing a request for you and I was wondering if you could write for Raven reader? For the Invincible show?

And ship them with Mark or Rex if thats not too much trouble?

𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐝 𝐒𝐭𝐲𝐥𝐞

Mark, Rex [seperate] x Raven!Reader

Note // I believe this is the first I’ve ever gotten a request for Invincible so huzzah! I went with headcanons here, hope that’s okay. 💤

Mark Grayson

Mark isn’t used to quiet. After everything—with his dad, the Viltrumites, Earth almost being obliterated twice over—he associates silence with tension, like something bad’s about to happen. But you? You are silence. Calm. Stillness. And at first, it unnerves him.

Then he realizes it's peace. You’re peace. He starts seeking it out—your room, your aura, the soft way you exist without demanding anything. You don’t ask him to be okay. You just sit beside him and let your soul-self settle in the space like it knows he needs to breathe. And for the first time since Chicago, he does.

Mark knows the inner struggles of having to deal with the weight of your father's legacy, Nolan's misdeeds hang over his head constantly; even if it had been lessened overtime, he still gets reminded of it every once in a while. So it at least makes for good conversation of talking about who's father is shittier, your talks about your own father --- Trigon is quite the surprise. But he doesn't diminish his worry for you, and ensures that you get it off your chest if you want to. Shitty fathers are shitty fathers after all, so he gets the confusion when it comes to the switch-ups. One day so kind and gentle, then the other they're ruthless and cold. Fathers are a complete and utter enigma, especially estranged ones, particularly alien fathers.

He’s an early riser now—not by choice, but from trauma. Wakes up with a jolt, sweat-drenched, heart racing. You’re usually already awake, meditating or floating gently above the bed, a soft violet glow casting shadows across the room.

“Nightmare?” you ask, voice like velvet but laced with quiet knowing. He nods. You open your arms and he’s already climbing in. He doesn't cry. Not every time. But when he does, you let him. No judgment. No advice. Just warmth, soul, and that steady pulse of empathic magic that reminds him—he’s not alone.

Being able to actively choose the path of healing and empathy is something he greatly admires about you, and chooses to take on the lead himself, even if his efforts for and across space is continually tested. Mark hates the ache in his bones and constant fighting, he knows his perception of heroism has been easily skewed--but your presence remains a strong pillar in his view of it.

As Invincible, he knows. Mark doesn't judge you for being half-human and half-demon, he himself is a hybrid as well. Even if his powers kicked in way later than expected of the average viltrumite. Mark thinks your amazing for pursing your own goals and constantly on your own path to form an identity uniquely your own, not having to be extension of anyone else, your just... you. Even despite knowing how cheesy that is, but he gets it, and will continue to cheer you on for that. He's that guy in your corner even if you feel like there's nobody else there.

He’s in awe of your powers. Every time you phase your soul-self or bend time around the two of you during high-emotion moments, he’s just standing there like, “Okay, that was sick.”

You once stopped time mid-fight because he was about to get skewered. When you restarted it, he barely dodged, landed a hit, and after the battle you scolded him. He grinned, wiped blood off his lip, and said, “Thanks for the time-out, coach.”

The first time you used empathy on him intentionally? He’d just flown back from a mission, shoulders tight with suppressed rage. You didn’t say anything—just reached out and felt the storm in him. He didn’t realize how close he was to breaking until he felt you soften it.

He kissed you like you were the only thing holding him together. Because you were.

Additionally to the fact about his love towards your spells, if you had ever summoned forth your more demonic form to perform more complicated spells when neccessary; he's just amazed, that's all. Mark knows he hasn't been Invincible as long as other heroes in the field, but he's seen and done alot, so seeing something as dark as you is like a fresh of breath air.

And that you aren't actively out to kill him, which is also nice.

Dancing with you is one of his favorite things to do, just slow and gentle. It's more than anything he's asked for within his life, and it's easy. Enough to simply just let other things in his life melt away and be in the moment with you, even if you two seem to float in the sky. Your hair becomes something akin to that of the aurora borealis when you two dance in the sky, and he loves to watch that happen. It's a gentle light, nice and bright, easy to follow even in the darkest spots.

your tutelage over your book is something else to be sure, Mark knows and learned of it a while long before you two had officially been dating. He has indefinitely learned not to touch it, and left it to your vices. But he certainly can't lie, Mark finds it super cool when your focused with your grimoire.

There are often moments in combat where you two conflict, but you are emotionally-restrained, and that ends up in you lashing out sometimes whilst in combat. You try your best to redirect your lashings against the villiains though, however, Mark does his best to redirect it without hurting you. His guilt weighs immensely when he does make up with you, however you aren't having it and tell him you were much at fault as he was. Though in the end he is relieved.

Both of you have immense gaits of trust, where as you find it difficult to trust anyone. There is an immense similarity in which you both share where you find it even more difficult to forgive said person if they break your trust, it takes effort and time to build a bond with others. Many times of which Mark has agreed with and backed you up on when you both argue with others about some people in certain situations.

You do have a place—modestly enchanted, soundproofed, and black-out spelled so you’re not melting under the sun. Mark jokes it’s like living in a Batcave with plants. He lowkey loves it though. The air smells like sage and lilac. It’s always cool. And it feels safe.

He has a toothbrush there. A drawer. His favorite hoodie is mysteriously missing from his place because you wear it when he’s off-world. It smells like sky and blood and him.

The soul-self curls protectively around his side when he sleeps over. He calls it “the bird blanket” and once tried to draw a dumb cartoon version of it to make you laugh. It did.

When you’re together, you both get to be soft. Mark, especially, lets down his armor with you. He doesn’t have to be Invincible. Doesn’t have to pretend the galaxy isn’t crumbling. He gets to just be… Mark.

You two have a ritual: once a week, you both switch off everything—no patrols, no Cecil, no emergencies unless the literal sun implodes—and you just exist. You read to each other, you float on the ceiling together, you nap under a weightless spell.

He once said, “I love how your magic makes me feel like I’m floating. Even when I’m not flying.” That one stayed with you.

Mark both appreciates and hates how to-the-point you are, while the blunt honesty is something he understands he needs to hear more often, he wishes you could just lie about certain things.

When Mark spirals—guilt, pressure, grief—you don’t tell him to stop. You let him feel. And then you remind him that he’s not his father. You remind him that his rage doesn’t define him. That you’ve seen worse. Been worse. And you’re still worthy of love.

“You’re allowed to fall apart,” you whisper once, when he came home after a near-fatal mission, shirt soaked in blood that wasn’t his. “I’ll hold the pieces. Until you’re ready to be whole again.”

And he does. He lets go. Because if he can trust anyone with that fragile part of him, it’s you.

He never tells you you're too much, even when you struggle to stay grounded in this realm. Even when your magic flares and your emotions flood the room.

“You’re everything,” he says once, voice shaking. “Even when you disappear into yourself, I still feel you. I see you.”

He holds your face like you’re breakable even though you’re probably the stronger one. His kisses taste like stardust and grief and stubborn hope.

And when he tells you he loves you? It’s not loud. Not shouted. It’s whispered at 3AM, against your temple, while the soul-self watches from the shadows. “I love you. I love you so much it hurts.”

Rex Sloan

One word: surprise. It's admittedly something excitable knowing that the two of you are genuinely dating, the effort is definitely there on both ends. There are seldom who know of about you two this way, which is what you preferred, and what he respected.

Rex is a major snark, and a huge joker. Which goes hand in hand with your ability to make sarcastic remarks, and he often bounces of your remarks with an additional joke. He absolutely loves it, and it's often your predominant dynamic when out in the field.

Rex’s idea of “settling down” involves you both living in a high-rise apartment, reinforced with blast-proof walls (because, well… him). You made a few modifications too—enchantments to muffle explosions, floating bookshelves, and an invisible barrier over the windows that filters sunlight so you can actually be in the living room for more than five minutes without feeling like your soul’s on fire.

He jokes about your need to stay inside—“What, you’re not a fan of Vitamin D or chaos?”—but secretly, he loves it. It means more time curled up on the couch with you, wrapped in that massive black throw blanket he swears smells like lavender and lightning.

You’re still, grounded in emotion, darkness, and mysticism. He’s fire and motion, sarcasm and scars. He burns fast and bright, and you slow him down. You still time when his anxiety gets too loud. Sometimes you don't say a word—just touch his wrist gently and pause. Letting him catch up to the world. Or himself.

And when you’re spiraling, overwhelmed by waves of emotion that don’t belong to you, he doesn’t say much either. He doesn’t try to fix it. He just throws a hoodie over your shoulders, tells you you’re still hot even with your soul flickering on the ceiling, and sits by you. Lets you feel. Doesn’t flinch.

He LOVES that you can project your soul-self. Thinks it’s the coolest thing ever. “Babe, babe—can you use the soul-thingy to go see if the pizza guy’s almost here?” You pretend to roll your eyes. You do it anyway.

He also occasionally refers to your powers as “Witchy Vibes” with no disrespect intended. He actually means it as a compliment. He’s fascinated by how effortlessly you tap into the arcane. "You could straight-up Thanos the whole city if you wanted. And you're choosing to love me? Wild."

You’ve both got baggage. He doesn’t always talk about what was done to him, what he lost, how he was made into something meant to blow up. But you feel it—the way his emotions spike and flicker when his past is mentioned. You never push. Just open up your aura, give him a safe place to rest.

You’re used to silence being sacred. He’s not. But over time, he gets it. He starts understanding that your quiet doesn’t mean distance. Sometimes your love is just… gentle gravity, not loud fireworks.

And when he slips up—because he does sometimes—he’s the first to own it.

He falls asleep with his hand loosely curled around your soul-self’s feathers. It calms him more than melatonin or meditation ever could. You don’t tell him it’s kind of adorable, because then he’d never do it again. But you watch him sometimes, the way his breathing slows, and you feel your own heart settle.

He loves kissing your forehead after a battle. “Still in one piece?” he murmurs, running a hand over your cheek. You nod, and he adds with a grin, “Damn shame, you’re so hot when you look haunted.”

He pretends to be annoyed when you use temporal stasis to freeze him mid-rant, but he secretly thinks it’s hilarious. He once spent twenty minutes frozen with a sock halfway off his foot, and you used the time to paint his nails black. He rocked the look for weeks.

You don’t really believe in fate. Not exactly. But there’s something undeniable about the way his chaos and your calm fit together like two halves of a broken sigil. You're his anchor in the storm. And he? He’s the light that flickers in your darkest nights—messy, reckless, human light.

“I’m not easy,” he tells you once, eyes unusually serious. “I talk too much, I break shit, and I’ve hurt people. I don’t… deserve you.”

You look at him, your soul-self swirling behind you, power and pain and purity all wrapped together. “You’re right,” you say. Then you lean in and kiss him, slow and sure. “But you’re mine.”

[eraserbread]

𝘪 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘢 𝘣𝘦 𝘢 𝙜𝙤𝙤𝙙 𝙬𝙞𝙛𝙚 part 3 masterlist, listen, nanami tag

god help me be a good wife, cause he needs me even when he's not right, he still needs me read part 2 nanami won't tell you he's hurting, but he can't keep you a secret any longer.

a/n: holy shit u guys... don't say i didn't warn you... this one is, uh... that's all from me. see you on the other side... cw: 18+ mature themes, canon-typical violence

♫ - salted wound - sia

Kento doesn’t wince, he doesn’t even move a muscle as he’s doted on. This time, it’s not by you, it’s by his colleague. One of the only sorcerers at Jujutsu High who can use reverse cursed techniques to heal. Her hands are warm, but her aura is cold, not like yours. Never as comforting as you. 

Facing the aftershocks of a fight against what he deemed to be a Special Grade, his side is gashed. It’s deep, too, bleeding into Ieiri’s silicone gloves as she pokes and prods. 

“I need to make a phone call – afraid it can’t wait, either, so please do not listen.” 

“No promises.” She replies coolly, pushing her rolling chair back to switch out her bloody gloves. In her sterile, white office, Kento leans his back against a plush, reclining chair. His dark blue work shirt is unbuttoned and messy, hanging off his shoulder. Blood is soaking through it, he’s cold, and Kento wants nothing more than to be home right now. 

Home will have to wait, but he can make up for some of it easily enough. He reaches for his smartphone, blinking drearily as his weak fingers stumble upon your contact. It’s well past the time he should’ve been home, now, and knows you’re up, worried sick. A message won’t suffice in this case; he needed to speak. 

Not even a full ring pass until the line clicks. Your smooth, sleepy voice licks the receiver. 

‘Kento?’ 

“Hello, dear.” Kento shuffles, taking a breath as Ieiri rolls back to his side. She has already used her technique; now it just has to settle in. “I know you are worried about me. Don’t be.” 

‘What’s happened? Are you okay?’ The way you sound – so worried and broken against cell static, shatters Kento’s psyche. He just wants to reach through the phone and tell you he’s okay, but he can’t. 

“I was struck by some falling rubble at work. Again, don’t wor-”

‘-fallen rubble? Kento, please come home.’ 

He presses his eyes shut. Your pain is palpable and laced throughout your caring tone. “I cannot come home yet. I’m getting the wound patched up.” 

Out of his sight, you’re chewing over your pristine nails, stewing with angst. He can hear the crack in your voice when you go to speak. ‘I’m terrified… this is the fourth injury this week.’ 

“I understand you’re worried, but I want you to know that I made that promise for a reason. I will never leave you.” He’s lying. He can’t believe he’s lying to you again, but it’s the only way he can keep you. His stupid, selfish nature needs you close when he knows he should cut ties and let you lead a life without constant fear.

‘And I want to believe that so bad.’ You’re crying now, or about to – Kento can hear it in the way your voice, damp with emotion, shakes helplessly. He knows if he were home, you’d play with his hair and kiss his forehead. You’d let him know that you can be his rock if need be – that’s your safeword, it’s his crutch. 

“How about you get some rest, dear? When you wake up, I’ll be right there… just like always.” 

‘No mysterious midnight missions?’ 

He chuckles, shaking his head. “It’s hard to control that.” 

‘Then, just lie.’ You’re desperate for anything, now. Any lie, any amount of reassurance or stability – you were clawing at your skin for it. 

“No missions. I’ll be home with you all night.” 

You take that with a contented hum, sawing your bottom lip over the line. ‘Please come home safe and sound.’ 

“Mhm… okay.” 

‘I love you so much.’ 

“Yes, you too. You know that.” 

‘I’ll be waiting…’ 

Kento hangs up first – knows he has to, or you’ll be shoveling more worrisome phrases into his ear for hours. Then, he feels the guilt hit him like a ton of bricks, weighing his shoulders down as Ieiri finishes patching him up. Silently, she’s been listening – of course, she has. 

Notoriously mysterious, Kento never utters a word about his personal life when he’s on campus. He was aloof throughout his high school years, then just disappeared. It's safe to say that nobody truly knows him here. Not even the apparitional comrades he sees when he closes his eyes at night. 

However, Ieiri is not stupid. That shiny, silver band on Kento’s fingers was not just for decoration. He’s never worn an ornament in his life, save for the thick watch he ties some of his Curse to. She noticed – she could make out your worried ramblings in the quiet, and smiled at who you were. 

“Marriage… It’s definitely your style.” She finally stands, pressing the trash can open to toss away the sterile packaging she used. Kento sits up, following her gaze shortly. 

“I told you not to listen.” 

“Oh, geez – it was impossible not to.” 

“Then just pretend you respect me enough to listen.” He’s standing up, buttoning and tucking his bloody shirt back in his pants. He knows you’ll work your domestic magic on it when he goes home – the next time he’ll see this shirt, it’ll be like nothing happened. “If you don’t mind, I will be running home to my wife.” 

“Don’t… actually run. It’ll exert the site.” 

Kento lets the door swing shut as he leaves Ieiri’s office, not giving her a goodbye or thanks she already knows she has from him. 

Now, he’ll be the first to admit that he’s pulled away since his return. There hasn’t been a Welcome Back dinner like Satoru promised, or those occasional nights out they’d hop into after missions. Nothing is the same this time around, or maybe they just aren’t kids anymore. 

And much to his bad luck, he ends up running into an open conversation in the First-Year hallway. The door is just a stone's throw away, but Ino and Satoru are leaning against either wall, relaxed and uncaring of Kento’s presence at first. 

“If I have to talk to the higher-ups about that, it won’t be pretty.” 

“Satoru, you can’t keep letting them throw me into missions I can’t handle.” Ino grimaces, scratching an anxious hand behind his head. He barely scraped away with his life today, and he’s had enough. He’s gone through two too many near-death experiences this week. 

“Don’t mind me,” Kento mutters as he pushes through their invisible conversation. Satoru stands on the right, giving him the perfect view of the bloodied stain on his pristine clothing. He can also see it in Kento’s face – can hear it in the mumble he gives. 

“Bad mission?” 

“I do apologize – I’ll have to brief you tomorrow.” Kento’s trying everything – scraping by the skin of his teeth to avoid any and all distractions. Satoru could talk for hours about nothing, and Ino would pay to listen in. He can’t let himself be roped in. 

“Nanami, I faced a Special-Grade in Kamakura. Had to flee or die… this is getting out of hand.” 

“Struggling is not inherently bad.” He finally stops, giving Ino a passing look over his shoulder. He takes a few steps, hands tucked in his pockets. “Neither is fleeing. Sometimes it’s the only thing we can do – you have to be okay with that.” 

Ino gives him a meek nod, gazing down at his feet as reality washes over him. “B-but if we all flee… Who will exorcise all these Curses?” 

“Me. When I have time.” Satoru speaks, standing up straight as if he’s planning on walking away. In reality, he’s exhausted. Running on a night of no sleep and constant, back-to-back Special Grades, whilst teaching and lugging around Sukuna’s vessel, marred him to the bone. He was beginning to see stars through his thin, dark-framed glasses. “Thank you for helping with Itadori, Nanami. Saw he got back safely.” 

“It is my duty to put his life over my own. Now, I must be going on-

“Get lots of rest tonight,” Ino adds as Kento begins walking off, standing straight and at attention. 

“You too.” 

Kento can’t face you right now. He knows you’re behind that door, can feel your presence calling his name, but can’t give in. It’s so late now. Well past midnight, and he’s just now shuffling through the front door. He knows, and hates, that you’re not waiting up for him. The house is dark. Lifeless. It’s like you haven’t been in here all day. 

He waits in front of the cracked bedroom door, hand hovering over the knob as he works himself up. He’s still covered in blood – his shirt is stained and he looks like Hell. You’d wake up as soon as he sets foot inside, and he’d have to calm your shaking demeanor again. Selfishly, he’s far too exhausted to exert more energy that way. 

All he wants to do is sleep. He doesn’t want to exist on this day anymore. 

So, he turns around and makes his way to the couch, slinging off his belt and loosening his tie so he can sink into the downiness. He closes his hands over his face, breathing deep, thinking about that pathwork curse, dreaming up ways he can work around the technique, and stewing over it for far too long. Surprisingly, he skated away with his life today, but he knew it was a lucky draw – he needed to be more careful, far more conscious. 

Somewhere, lost in those late hours, he drifts off with his vapid thoughts running circles in his mind. It’s a sour mixture – a foul mood and visions of failure, which is why he dreams that night. 

He never dreams. 

You’re awake when that call comes, stepping out of the bathroom fresh from a shower. Somehow, he can hear you from the serenity of the shared bedroom. He wonders if you can feel him as you approach your wailing phone, looking so meek, wrapped up in a towel the size of him. 

Every step is deliberate as you cross the bed, reaching against the whiteness of the spread to retrieve the device. When you turn the screen over, an unknown number is painted across the top, and he can sense the hesitant dread that crosses your features when you notice. 

Kento knows you want that person to be him – you’re hoping he’s just at a payphone, or using a colleague's cell to update you on his status. His only call home was that evening around 7 – he whispered to you that he was being called into a situation around Shibuya, warning you not to worry and that he’ll be home soon. How soon, he couldn’t promise. Timelines are so flimsy, now. Your life together is built on promises he can’t keep. 

But you understand. You won’t fight him this time; you’ll accept defeat and spend another lonely night wrapped up in his smell. It’s the only comfort you can find anymore. 

“Yes?” With a pruned, shaking hand, you bring your smartphone to your ear to answer the call. 

‘...Is this Mrs. Nanami Kento?’ It’s a voice you’re not used to – feminine, yet powerful as it overtakes you. 

You repeat, “Yes.” 

Then, a broken sigh makes you stand up straight. ‘This is Ieiri Shoko from Jujutsu High.’ She begins, shaking her head where you cannot see. ‘There is no easy way to say this, but we have probable cause to believe that Kento either went AWOL, or is MIA after the incident he was called to in Shibuya. I don’t want you to panic yet, but considering the worst-case scenario… We’ve been able to recover a few bodies from the scene earlier this morning…’

You can feel it – the entire structure of your world falling to its knees as you shake still. Your grip tightens invisibly over your device, eyes lost in the room as you shudder on words you know you need to say. “W-what?” 

Another sigh. Just a sigh for her – you wish you could just sigh. ‘I don’t want to confirm anything I am unsure about, but it is unrealistic for him to shrug off on missions without a word.’ Pacing the morgue, Shoko navigates the chaos of bodies she needs to identify, tag, and store. Only one issue – one glaring, faceless issue. She takes a second to stare at the covered body on her table, bloodied brown shoes lying lifeless, and swallows. 

“I-I don’t… I don’t understand.” You swallow, dislodging a pile of angst from your throat. Your mind has already shut down, and your heart is sure to follow – they’re protecting you. Taking the news and eating it until there’s nothing for your soul to feel. “I don’t understand.” 

‘I know this news… It’s confusing. For us… too.’ Though level-headed and seasoned, Ieiri knows how fragile this situation is – how fragile you are. Tokyo Jujutsu Society would never function the same again, and she’d feel it to her grave. ‘Kento was an integral part of not only the School, but also of our society. We need him more than ever, which is why we won't rest until he is accounted for. I imagine he hasn’t reached out to you since yesterday?’

You don’t respond. You can’t respond. You can’t even fucking move. 

‘Nanami?’

You shake your head, but Ieiri can’t hear it. You don’t care. 

‘I can’t imagine how hard this is for you, so I will not press further… May I ask that you come up to the school to identify some remains?’ 

“If it’s him…” You stop, finally moving even when it’s just a step closer to the mattress so you can collapse in a shapeless heap. “I don’t want to see it.” 

‘Of course, I understand completely. Might I just add that DNA testing is a lengthy process, often taking over a month in this case. I can go ahead and start that for you, but if you need closure sooner, coming in to view the bodies is your best option.’ 

You’re sinking into the mattress, hoping it swallows you whole as Ieiri treats you like a name on a paper. She’s telling you that Kento is missing – he’s gone. She thinks he’s dead and wants you to confirm her suspicions by looking at corpses. You don’t think she understands — you will not be able to function if your eyes fall upon the body you married without an ounce of life in it. It’d be better to twist the knife and take that spot next to him in the refrigerated room than to live anymore.

But, you also prepared for this… In that sick, if it happens, it happens way that Kento shoved down your throat since he took the position. The least he can do, since he’s throwing his life to the curb, is to make sure the transition into a life of your own would be just as easy as falling in love with him. You wouldn’t have to work for a while with the money he has stockpiled. You have this house he fine-tuned for you, a brand-new car, and a free life – you could start over. He wants you to start over. 

But he doesn’t want you to marry again. Not ever. 

Not even once you begin to forget him. 

Over the phone, you whisper to Ieiri, “I will come.” 

Somewhere in a dream-like state, Kento watches you slide on a pair of loose-fitting pants, staring unblinking at the wall as you pull on a baggy shirt. He believes it’s his, it smells like him, and that’s what you needed right now. You wouldn’t drive, Ieiri scheduled someone to retrieve you by mid-morning, and that was quickly approaching. 

The one thing – the feeling that’s playing you in a loop is… emptiness. The bleak wall becomes your mirror as you stare into it, no longer caring to polish the appearance you had kept so pristine for your husband. He never asked for too much when it came to that, knowing you’d be able to steer your self-care the way you need to without much nagging. Now it all seems so trivial. 

If no Kento was waiting at the end of the tunnel, you didn’t want to trek. 

So, you’re swept away. Unshowered, unbrushed – unpolished, into the back of a sleek black, mysterious sedan. A woman in a suit waits by the back door as you leave the home Kento gave you. The air smells like his skin as the door pushes that faithful scent out into the world. It feels as if you’re losing pieces of him slowly. 

Luckily, the assistant understands the gravity of the situation as she ushers you into the vehicle. She sees the look on your face, that shadow in your eyes as you avoid eye contact. Not even a word – just a nod. You’re lowering yourself into the calm, polished leather expanse. 

You just can’t feel anything. It’s so odd, so mysteriously antagonizing, as the city you navigated your entire life starts to feel… unfamiliar. The first time you laid eyes on your Kento, once a small, shy blonde, was shoulder-to-shoulder at a bar in Azabu. Now, that lively night strip is jarring and uncomfortably empty. You have to let your eyes flutter shut. 

You don’t even have the strength to pull them open when the car slows to a crawl, shaking you back to sense before stopping altogether. 

Car bells ding, doors are pulled open, and cigarette smoke is in the air. You steady your shaking hands, finally letting your eyes creep open. 

You’ve never been to campus, Kento never told you where it was, but the whispers of the countryside are vibrant and green, stretching far beyond the traditional campus. From first appearances, it looks like every other private High School, and that’s what you would have clung to if you didn’t know the unfortunate truth. Every one of these selfless sorcerers was working their life away just to meet an untimely end. It’s all shit – the system is shit, but you understand that choice was a luxury. Just like Kento, he didn’t have a choice. You never blamed him. 

“Sorry to meet you under these circumstances.” That familiar voice, warm and welcoming, is shadowed against the smog of her balanced cigarette. Standing in front of you, brunette hair, light makeup – you could only deem this reflection as Ieiri Shoko. 

You step out of the car, leaving the door hanging open for the assistant to close. When she steps behind you and lets a gentle hand push it shut, the sound sends a chill up your spine. You shiver. 

“I apologize for startling-

“I-it’s fine,” you rush, voice sounding unfamiliar and meek in your throat. 

Ieiri ashes her smoke with a flick, gaze downcast and red with lack of sleep. Little did you know, last night was one of the most troubling of her career. Bodies upon bodies and injured colleagues stacked upon each other. Some were MIA – a scattered few meeting a supernatural fate that the higher-ups have yet to learn. She figures you haven’t turned on the news and heard about the devastation. She hopes you didn’t, it’d make this showing easier. 

“Nanami…” Ieiri approaches, holding her smoke to her side to stop the onslaught from meeting you. You blink. “I apologize for the chaos, and… for finally meeting you in these circumstances.” 

You’re nodding, too afraid to say more and risk sobbing in a pile on the polished cobblestone. 

“I won’t burden you for too long.” She’s reading your reflection, understanding that baseless words to break the silence will just make this difficult. Ieiri drops her cigarette, stepping on it as she turns to lead you. “Nor will I talk your ear off about formalities, or the fact that I am drowning in bodies and unknowing.” She’s walking fast, swinging doors open for you to pass through. These hallways, although designed for students, seem completely empty. There’s no sound of joyous teenage angst, no chaos that should fill a school – just a veil of blackness, devoid of laughter and emotion. 

You can guess it’s why Kento is so bleak at times, similarly devoid of laughter and emotion. He slaves away all day to this. 

“Now, I won’t tell you much, but this happens sometimes. Shibuya is in ruins, half of our Grade-1s are MIA or are down for the foreseeable future, higher-ups are scrambling – it’s a mess.” 

“And my husband…” It’s the first sentence you speak to her face-to-face. Ieiri thinks it’s as bleak as she imagined it’d be, and it’s not like she could blame you. Poor girl, tied unwillingly to sorcery through devotion. No human is fit to thrive in these conditions. 

“Mixed up in it all, I suppose.” She stops at a heavy set of swinging doors, sending you screeching to a halt. When she turns around, that confident, exhausted gaze is just exhausted. “Now, we found him just after the sun broke, along with some of his few… surviving colleagues.” Ieiri knows – of course she knows, there’s no other sorcerer who yielded a wrapped, spotted blade. It was at the scene, plain as day, and disregarded during clean-up. However, there is a slight, off-putting chance that she could be wrong. It’s why you’re here, it’s why she’s stepping away from your sight, heading towards the corpse. 

You don’t even need her to lift the pristine white sheet. You can smell him in the air – an odd, muted, clean sort of familiar musk. Right there, in that moment, is where it hits you. 

Your husband is gone. 

“I’m so sorry… the state we found him in is…” Ieiri doesn’t finish, she doesn’t even give you a second before she’s peeling the sheet away from clothed, cold ankles. 

Your soul falls. You can’t look. 

You can’t even think – your husband is gone. 

Kento jolts up as if he were being doused in smoldering coals. His heart is hammering in his chest, forcing him awake in a cold sweat. He’s still on the couch, neck sore from the odd position he drifted into. It had to have been hours, now. That dream felt like an eternity… your pain was palpable. He feels like Hell – guilty to the bone. 

With those downcast eyes, he leans his elbows to his knees, rubbing the tension in his face away. Slowly, he’s coming down from that nightmare, focusing his breathing on the late-night hum of city traffic. He can’t find a time, has no idea where his phone is, and is exhausted. There was only so much stewing he could do for the rest of the night, so he decided to call it and climb into bed. 

Except you’re not cuddled on your side when he walks into the room. The bed is barren, with messy covers strewn over the mattress. Kento’s disappointed, but he’s far too tired to think twice. He crawls into his side of the bed, lying on top of the sheets, reaching to clutch your pillow to his face. Perhaps, he thinks it’s you in his sleep-daze, or he knows it’s not you, so he whispers, 

“I’m sorry.” 

You step out of the bathroom three minutes later, hands damp from washing them clean. The bedside clock reads 24:23. Kento is curled up with your pillow. You smile. 

“Sorry. I had to pee.” 

“Come here.” He’s not really asleep, you know he isn’t asleep. His body is still tense. So, you make your way to him, footsteps light in the night before they morph into knee-crawling over the mattress. Kento finally cracks open his eyes, and a smile blooms. He’s happy to see you. 

You won’t mention his injury right now, he won’t mention his burdens as he drags you into his arms. He just holds you, letting you fall back asleep with your head on his chest. 

Like he promised, Kento held you all night until the morning birds awoke. 

Then, it’s the weekend and he’s home. You don’t dare move from this closeness when you wake up before him. It’s just too peaceful, the outside breeze, the beat of his heart, the sound of his breath. He’s a steady, sleepy rock. 

Hours fade, you doze off again. Morning melts into the afternoon, and the sun is hot. You blink awake in the same position, watching hairs of sweat bead against your husband's chest. Leaning forward to kiss him, he stirs. 

Then, mid-afternoon hits, and you’re finally crawling out of your bed with Kento following suit. He’s quiet, yawning into his hand as he cracks an eye open. “You didn’t wake me.” 

“It’s Saturday.��� Waiting for you on your closet door, you walk to slide your robe on, pulling the windows open once it’s tied around your waist. “Didn’t talk much last night.” 

“Neither did you.” He’s looking at you over his shoulder, back hunched towards you as he sits on the edge of the bed. “You’re beautiful this morning.” 

“Afternoon.” You correct with a smile on your face. You’re doing nothing to appear more attractive than your half-asleep state allows, but he doesn’t care. “I love you.” 

Kento grunts when he stands, limping slightly as he makes his way to the wardrobe. He’s yawning again, stretching his big arms in front of him. Your eyes fall to his side – the big bandage covering his milky skin. 

You swallow down words, craning your neck when he passes you with a kiss to the cheek. “What’s for breakfast?” 

“Lunch, dear.” You remind him, sawing over your bottom lip as he strips in front of you. His movements are hardly sexual, but the way his body bends and moves as he steps out of his pants is adjacent. Wearing no briefs, he reaches for a pair you laundered for him. “Chicken katsu, maybe?” 

“Mm…” He hums, filtering through his hanging selection of casual shirts. He settles on a deep grey one, sliding it over his fluffy hair and his chest. “If that’s what you want to do…” sounds excellent.” 

“Careful – your side, baby.” 

“What? It’s fine.” He's giving you the cold shoulder, like he’s trying to blow you off. What he wants to do is pick a pair of comfortable pants that he wouldn’t have to squeeze into. It’s the weekend, after all. He had no career obligations. “Katsu is good, go do that.” 

“Pick me out something to wear. Comfy like that, it’s cute.” You’re mentioning finally pushing from the wall to head to the kitchen. Kento doesn’t respond, but you know he’ll do it. On weekends, you shower together in the evening. You know he’ll appreciate peeling the outfit he chose from your skin a little extra. 

While Kento gets ready for his rest day, you’re stewing in the kitchen. Starting with prepping chicken, cleaning, prepping vegetables, cleaning, then actually turning around to your hot oil to start cooking. Somewhere in the middle of the process, you turned on music from the house speakers, keeping it low but audible over the sound of the stove. It makes it so you don’t catch Kento sliding into the room, book tucked under his arm as he sits at your counter. Never speaking a word, just watching. 

“Didn’t hear you walk in.” You’re mildly startled when you turn around, heading to the sink to grab a utensil from your pile of dirty ones. 

“You’re just in your own world. Didn’t want to intercept.” Light, down-tempo jazz backs the sound of his words. You’re smiling under his warm gaze, proud like a child at his sweet attention. 

“Thinking about you.” You add, hands scrubbing under running water as you wash. You’re faithful, your chicken won’t burn behind you, so you let this mood carry. You can tell he wants to dote on you right now. “Halloween’s in a few days. Remember, we used to celebrate every year when we were dating.” 

“Mhm… I remember when you forced me to watch that anime so that I could dress as that character. All of our friends seemed to love it, but I don’t think a blonde Yagami Light was very convincing.” 

You’re giggling, fond memories flooding the front of your mind. A peeved Kento, a smiling you, friends, drinks, and love. It was the last time you two celebrated as young adults. “Well, I was very convinced.” 

“I’m sure you were. You had no problem putting on a wig and playing Misa.” Kento opens his book to his marked page, eyes flicking over your shoulder. “My love, your chicken.” 

“Oh!” You jump, turning around with your clean utensil to remove the cutlets from the oil. On your right, rice is cooking – steaming into the air, mingling with the scent of warmth and home. 

Every few seconds, you can feel his eyes bore into the back of your head. It’s like he wants to say something, but comes up empty every time. 

“If it’s not too much to ask, some coffee would be nice.” He mentions briefly when you turn back around. Nodding immediately, you place your things on the counter, wipe your hands, and move to the machine to brew him a cup. 

“Sorry, I’m so distracted this morning.” 

“Afternoon.” He replies cheekily, smirking up at you when you gawk over your shoulder. “And, it’s okay. You woke up later than normal, starting with lunch instead of breakfast, too.” 

“I actually woke up right on time, just didn’t want to wake you by getting up.” 

“You’re extremely thoughtful. I do appreciate it.” 

A few moments later, you’re cradling a steaming mug of black coffee in your hands, blowing over the top before you hand it to Kento. 

“It is sweet, how you do that.” He starts, so soft spoken, putting his book down so he can take a scalding sip. “It’s like a little indirect kiss.” 

“I have no choice, you drink it as soon as I hand it to you, and always end up burning yourself.” 

“Coffee burns are the least of my worries.” You’re stuck staring stars into Kento’s eyes, studying the fine lines, the familiarity, the gentleness. You don’t even realize how much time is passing until he does. Kento clears his throat. 

“Um, dear.” He nods back towards your stove, and you’re flustered, trying to reel your attention back. “I’m sorry, I’m distracting you.” 

“No!” You reply, shaking your head as you remove the too-crispy chicken to drain. You’re lost in your own skin, unsure what to do with your hands and hyper-aware of his presence now. “No, don’t go, I’m sorry.” 

“I won’t go, just don’t want you to burn down your kitchen.” There’s a chuckle there, faint, hidden behind his words. You can hear it.

While it’s still hot, you serve Kento his lunch, taking care to slice the meat against the grain and keeping its presentation as neat as possible.

A scoop of rice, chicken perched perfectly on top. You pick out his chopsticks, his sauces, and a beautiful, fresh pile of grated cabbage on the side. It’s only ready to eat when you place it gently in front of him, turning the plate so he can get the perfect bite of rice first. 

This attention to detail – Kento craves it. He needs it. By now, knowing exactly what he needs is second nature; he never expects you to falter. And that’s your fault for always being so perfect and loving. He expects the world from you, now—one bowl of chicken katsu at a time. 

Early evening comes with Kento’s gentle voice amongst the cracked windows, piercing through the outside noise. You two love the cooler weather – cuddling up close when there’s no other reason to. 

Back pressed to the couch, Kento’s balancing a thick hard-cover book about Japanese Folklore in honor of Halloween. His sweet, gentle voice makes the troubling stories seem like fairy tales. He’s speaking so wholly, stopping to nod you through any questions you had. Little by little, Kento has been explaining bits and pieces of his world – how curses are born, why he has such an overflow of Cursed Energy, and why he chose this life. 

The thing is, he didn’t. Nobody chooses to be scouted, or, in his case, completely abandoned by his family because they swore he was too abnormal to live a regular life. Desperate for normalcy in those first few years of High School, he lived his off-time nose deep in books that couldn’t talk back. 

He’s only recently started to let you in on those years – the darkest in his life. He speaks about them so solemnly, finally starting to tell himself the truth when it comes to what he saw all that time ago. His best friend's warm body sliced in two, blood gushing. Tears. Angst. Sleepless nights, early mornings, and dull breakfasts. 

He’s getting lost in his head again, words are starting to melt together, and your body is too warm. He shakes his head. “Sorry…” 

“Hm?” You look up at him, hand drawing pristine designs on his clothed chest. Being honest, you didn’t notice the minor stutter of his words as he droned on. You’re more focused on the grotesque human amalgamation that exists within the walls of a city school. The description he read made you shudder. 

“Sorry, I just-

Kento is sighing, sliding further on the couch with the intent to sit. You’re sitting up with him, the backs of your thighs pressed into your heels as he swings his long legs off.. He’s clutching the front of his head like a headache is brewing, eyebrows knitting in phantom pain. 

It’s like… ever since that dream he had the other night, he can’t think straight. He can’t get that fucking night out of his head. 

“Ken…to..?” You mutter, reaching to pull his hand from his face. Unfortunately, this has become familiar to you – these bouts he works himself up into. It eats him alive, rendering him speechless and distant even when you’re close enough to touch. “It’s okay.” 

“Just a… It’s been a week.” Is what he lies with, looking down at his feet. There’s a crook in his neck he has to roll out; it’s uncomfortable. Everything around him is on fire; his skin is churning. 

It’s a slip you witness in real time, heart thrumming painfully as his eyes go ghost. You feel so helpless right now, his hand flexes against yours like he wants to pull it back to his body, but he sits motionless. 

You stand, stepping in front of him to pull his limp frame into your chest. “No, come back to me.” You plead, voice as light as a whisper. “It’s not lonely in there? Just you and your thoughts?” 

Seconds pass, and Kento blinks. Then, shuts his eyes and breathes out a laugh. You feel accomplished, beaming with strength and knowing. “You are sweet.” 

“...are you okay?” You try, biting your lip, trailing fingers over his hunched shoulders. Kento finally blinks up at you, sleeplessness showing in the shadows under his eyes. He nods, but it’s not enough. “Hm?” 

“I’m okay. Yes, it’s okay.” Ken’s stumbling over his words like he’s distracted, sighing as he leans forward, pressing a kiss to your sternum. His long arms are warm – strong as they take hold of your waist. 

“I wish… You can just stay here with me all the time.” He’s purring like a kitten pressed to you, humming deep in his chest. You’re tangling a hand in his mess of blonde locks. “Never go to work, never sleep, never dissociate. Is that selfish of me?” 

“Very.” His voice is muffled. You don’t care. “That is okay. I tell you often, but I just want to reinforce…” Now, he’s peeking up at you, red-faced and ruffled. A reflection only saved for you in the darkest of nights — the most private of rooms. “You deserve a husband who lives for nothing else but taking care of you. I am so sorry I failed you in that sacred mission.” 

You’re not sure what to say, but you know he’s feeling down right now. You blink at him, eyebrows knitted up in worry. “Would you stop saying such vile things? It’s not true.” 

“I understand that you love me enough to lie, as well.” Wordless for a moment, Kento’s hands find their way under the back of your shirt, thick fingers pressing into the bare flesh. You shiver. “So, we will lie to each other then.” 

When he finally sets his stress to the side, he’s all yours. Kisses start at your stomach, lingering there over your shirt as his hands massage your back. You know this kiss – this feeling, it’s all the love he can’t quite figure out how to say to you, so he’s determined to show it. Each kiss is pressed to you in sloping curves, delicate signatures, and expensive lust. Kento loves everything about you, the way you shudder and whine when he ghosts that ticklish patch under your belly button. He can’t help himself. He has to paw your shirt off. 

Then, it’s like he’s trying to bury himself inside of you. He wants to cut you open and make a little home right under your skin. It must feel so warm in there, like it does when he’s making love to you. All he wants is to feel safe in a space where no one can find him. 

Losing himself in your skin is the only way he can seem to chase that feeling. It’s what he dives into every single day, rain or shine, blood or sweat, fighting or loving – being inside of you is his biggest vice. It’s all he needs to survive in a bitter world unfit for his mind. 

His lips are so hot, slick tongue leaving traces of him in his wake as he trails up your torso. Above him, you’re chewing at your lip, holding your breath when he ghosts over your pelvis. You want him there, but Kento wants to eat you alive. 

He starts at your hip, sinking his teeth through skin and flesh. You whine, a hand falling back into his hair to pull him close, yet he turns away. 

“Ouch.” You complain, breath stalling as his nose drags across the waistband of your loose pants. You’re not wearing any underwear – you’re his. Just a touch away from having it all. 

“I am so eager to be inside of you.” He’s talking through kisses, lips wet and warm. When he pulls away, hands playing at your pants, you’re purring – equally as eager, desperate. Loved. “Have you any clue how much I need you?” 

“Just a hint.” 

Finally, he’s pulling down your pants, letting them bunch at your thighs as he gets that beautiful, warm eyeful of you. Slick pools hot between your legs as he cranes his fingers between them, gasping at the silky feel of your wetness against the softness of your folds. 

Then, he’s muttering, “Wow,” Before bringing those two damp fingers to his lips, sucking them quickly into his mouth. It’s a newly formed habit of his, reveling in the taste or smell of you lingering in a room. It’s as if he’s picking up on something you didn’t know existed. And, it’s so sexy. 

“All this teasing…” You’re dragging a hand back over his face, fingers sliding against his ear, pressing into his jaw. Instinctually, he bares his neck. Now, it’s your turn to dive in. Sliding into his lap in a kneeling straddle, you attack the base of his jaw with feverish kisses, core rocking over his jutted sweatpants. You’re eager like a rabbit, licking and biting just like he did. However, Kento feels no pain from your nipping – nothing like the steady, dull ache that pangs your side every time you grind upwards. But it’s satisfying seeing his pristine skin bloom in pretty shades of red. It’s like he’s showing you off, with his neckful of kisses and marks – it makes you so weak. 

“I just want it,” you catch your earlier thought in midair, whispering against his lips. 

“Come and get it.” He replies, almost like he’s challenging you. His eyes are so fucked and heady when he pulls away. But, when you reach for his crotch, so ready to feel him stretch you full, he catches it. “Actually–

Kento takes over, leading you into a kiss, pressing his hand into your back as he stands, carrying you in his grip. You’re expecting to go far – perhaps to the bedroom, maybe to the kitchen counter. You’re not expecting to be slammed onto the couch, winded as Kento’s bodyweight pins you down. 

He’s so strong now, it’s like he doesn’t know his own strength. But, you won’t tell him that you can’t really breathe with him holding you like this, shoulder to shoulder, warm chest pushing you so far. But he feels so good grinding down on you, letting himself be needy and unrestrained in your presence. After all, you are the only escape he gets. The only home he truly has. You need to memorize every side of him. 

“Want you to put it in.” You’re whispering every little breath you can steal, fingers clawing into the thinness of his shirt. “Take it off.” 

“Demanding. Which first?” 

“Take it off.” You’re fisting grey fabric, pulling it out like it’d make him move faster. Against your nakedness, you want him to be with you. 

He sits up for a moment, letting you get a lungful of precious air. Even better than that, the closest possible view when he tears his shirt over his head, fluffy hair out of place, and chiseled chest rising and falling with need for you. 

You truly think you’ll combust. 

“Put it in.” 

Kento hums, a tiny smirk on his lips, when he reaches into the front of his pants. Your eyes trail down his chest, swallowing at the thin patch of hair that blooms just under his waistband. So sexy, so familiar. 

You’re whining. Sawing your bottom lip when he tugs his cock free. Kento is so swollen, so pent-up and needy for you. 

Just when you think he’s about to drop his guard and fuck you into the cushion, he leans down and kisses you, thick cock grinding right between your strewn legs. He’s never done this before – drawn this out in such intoxicatingly needy ways. Humping your legs, whining your name, pinning you down. It’s like he’s on a mission; something is still in the back of his mind. 

So, you tell him again. “Put it in.” 

Though he laughs, he listens. Finally, finally, he’s pressing into you so gently, getting you into that sweet, familiar stretch. It stings at first, always for him, but you love it. It just means that pleasure will follow, his love will fill you whole. 

And, it’s at that first touch of your strangling warmth that he screws his eyes shut, trembling on a sigh. “Oh, I love you.” 

“Mmfh – thank you. Thank you so much, baby.” 

“Shh…” he coaxes, kissing the small line of drool that falls from your open mouth. “Just take it.” 

Kento doesn’t want you to talk, but he does want you to scream his name. It’s how he fucks you, slamming so deep inside of your weeping hole that you can’t help but choke on a sob. 

“Don’t mean to – mm… Be so rough.” You can tell Kento is overcome, neck blooming a dark maroon as he fucks into you. You’re so wet – sopping, and sticky against his skin when he pulls out every time. “B-but, you’re so…” Sweat’s beading, he’s ignoring your pleading moans, holding you so tight you will definitely be marked tomorrow. “...perfect.” 

“I love you.” You’re crying now, squeezing tears from your eyes as he kisses so impossibly deep inside of you. With every thrust he’s giving you, somehow, he feels deeper than the last. It’s like he’s making a home inside your womb – just like he wanted. 

“Sweet… sweet girl. Just so sweet to me.” 

He’s talking so much, giving you so much, touching you so much. 

Then, you’re cumming, nails scratching deep in his back as your world stops… then, starts again. Kento leans down, groaning obscenly in your mouth as your cunt grips and tugs at him, pulsating milky streams of you everywhere. 

Though your arms go limp around him, thighs quivering as they lock onto his waist, Kento is sure he can milk one more orgasm out of you. So, he fucks you in your favorite way – silently, lips pressed to yours, his tongue slipping over your teeth. One big hand clutches over the back of the couch, leather creaking in the strength he knows he can’t exert on you. 

He wants to break this couch, to pin you through the soil and fuck you so deep until you’re begging him to stop. The only thing is, you never would – He knows that, you know that. And, your bodies know that, it’s why he controls himself. 

Kento lets you cum for the second time to the sound of skin slapping skin. He drinks up your cries and feeds them back to you in a kiss before he’s finally cumming. Still as a statue, he’s breathing through the feeling, Adam’s apple bobbing down moisture, sweet lips parted. 

He’s so beautiful, you’re so taken, life is so perfect. 

It’s all you’re thinking as you come down, eyes heavy and swollen with tears. Weakly, your hand rises to his cheek, pressing your palm there for reassurance. Any moment now, he’ll come back to his senses and ask if you’re okay. This is your way of beating him to it.

Though he knows you’re okay, thorough to the bone, Kento presses his forehead to yours. “Thank you for letting me do that.” 

He can’t see the small smile on your face, but he can hear the way your breath hitches. “I love you.” 

Spending that weekend so entirely trapped with you ultimately did help Kento’s mood heading into Halloween week. It’s a notorious time for curses to pop up – old ones returning, and new ones popping up in decorated, dimly lit alleyways. 

But this year felt different… almost calmer. 

It’s why he’s holding your hand through the late city streets on a Tuesday, watching how those street lights bless your lovely features. It’s a reckless decision. Kento knows that he’ll spend all of tomorrow wishing he slept all night, but the old ramen shop on the corner was calling his name – yours, too. 

It’s a hole-in-the-wall establishment. A married couple moves behind the sitting bar in perfect unison – passing noodles, spooning broth, and grilling meats. He sips over smooth liquor, you’re shoveling him smiling stories about holidays past. He thinks that right here, with you, past two in the morning, is his happy place – his Heaven. 

That feeling is truly the only thing keeping him sane, even when he’s mid-sip, nodding to your sweet voice, when an unmistakable presence, grating as ever, passes through the dinging front door. 

You’re giggling sweetly, he’s closing his eyes, praying Gojo wouldn’t notice. But, he already has.

It’s a lucky gamble, who knew the ever stoic Nanami would be frequenting the only open ramen shop in the neighborhood? So, of course, he has to approach. It’s just in Gojo’s blood. He’s starry-eyed behind his blindfold, fresh off a mission and ravenous for anything. His underclassmen’s attention is just as good as cheap ramen. 

“Dear, I am so sorry,” Kento mutters before Gojo closes in, bracing for impact and suddenly exhausted. The liquor softens the blow Gojo exudes, but it doesn’t make this situation easier. You’re looking at the white-haired stranger like he has you at gunpoint. 

“Wha-

“Nanamin!” Though moderately voiced, Gojo is elated, smiling ear to ear and totally shrugging off any feeling that wasn’t contentedness. “Why are you here!?” 

“It’s a big city… Gojo-san…” Another sip, Kento bears the weight of Gojo’s long arm slung over his hunched shoulders. “And you are in my neighborhood.” 

“Heh.” Gojo laughs, face falling when he notices your piqued attention. Of course, he saw you as he walked in, but assumed you were a diner. After all, Kento never told them about a partner… let alone a wife. “Hi, there.” 

The wave this stranger gives to you is curt, but you take it with a furrowed brow. 

Kento speaks for you. “Gojo, if you’d please take the blindfold off while speaking to her…” 

Then, you finally understand – blaming it on the lack of sleep. This brooding reflection in front of you seemed awfully familiar. “Oh, h-

Gojo takes orders like a god, immediately pulling the black binding from his eyes and over his head. The energy in this room is blinding, but he can hold out long enough to see who you were – this beautifully patient stranger sitting next to Kento. Surely you couldn’t be…

“Nanami, this is… Satoru Gojo, the one I was telling you about.” Kento mutters, losing himself in the rim of his glass. 

“Nan– wait, you tell stories about me? How sweet.” 

“Please, get your food and be on your way.” 

“Satoru.” You smile, bowing lightly in his oddly familiar presence. It’s genuinely like you know him, knowing how much Kento loves and loathes him. He would never say it, but in your mind, you equate their turbulent relationship to love… in some form, perhaps brotherly. “It’s so nice to meet you finally.” 

Gojo’s staring at you with a half-smile on his face, waiting for his colleague to expand, perhaps explain. But, the restaurant is silent save for sizzling stoves and gentle conversation. 

Kento drags his teeth, letting his forehead fall into his stretched palm.

“I do not believe I told you, but Gojo, this is my wife… Please, be respectful.” 

[chocochiffonnn]

➸ Pairing: Nishimura Riki x Fem! Reader

➸ Word Count: 2.2k words

➸ Synopsis: After having one too many drinks and being taken home by your nonchalant boyfriend, you realize despite his stoic, calm, personality, that you quite literally have him wrapper around your fingers.

➸ Warnings: lots of cursing, reader stutters (go away if u don't like that) mentions and usage of alcohol and cigarettes, kissing but not super intense.

●·○·●·○·●●·○·●·○·●●·○·●·○·●●·○·●·○·●

Rarely had there been a time where you drank, really.

"kjasduahdaidhaasd more alcohol!"

.... But when you did, the atrocities are at most, unimaginable.

Like right now. The crisp, appetizing air of the barbecue roamed around your nose. With a very, odd, obnoxious wiggling of your nose you giggled uncontrollably, holding your shot glass up high.

"Barbecue~ Nice! Yummy! Delicious! Whoo! Give-"

"You can stop now."

With not much of a notice, a strong grip swiftly takes away the shot glass from your fingers, the other preventing your left hand for taking any more alcohol.

It was a familiar voice.

"Oh my goodness, there you are Riki! Thank you so much for coming."

Riki?

As in, Riki?

"Guysss! Gosh, stop fooling around!" You babble in front of your friends, fanning your hands in the process. With flushed cheeks, you gave them a grin. Why did they bring your boyfriend up all of a sudden?

Your "boyfriend."

"I know Riki, MY boyfriend is attractive, and cute, and lovable and all that, but—"

"Y/N."

Damn. It really is him.

With a swift turn, the sight that confronted your blurry eyes, was none other than Nishimura Riki in the flesh. His hair is disheveled, he looked like he had just woken up from a nap, given his raspy voice and the tired look in his eyes. He wore one of the hundreds of his chrome hearts collection of black sweater pants and hoodie.

You rubbed your eyes, hoping you'd just imagined things, but he felt real. You tapped his shoulder, hard and broad. Poked his cheek, soft and cute, held his finger, long and veiny. You wiggled your nose, still smelled as amazing as ever.

But the fact that he was here was not even the problem. The fact that he possibly heard what you said is what is.

"It is real..."

"Of course I am real," Niki turns to your friends, "Thank you for taking care of her. Is it okay if I take her home now? I'll bring her home safe, don't worry."

"O-of course! We're done with eating too, just waiting for you, because, well... Y/N kind of goes uncontrollable when it comes to alcohol."

Niki, the ever so nonchalant, simply just nods his head, taking one of your arms and wrapping it around his shoulder. "Thanks for that."

Without much of a word, you left the restaurant with Nishimura Riki, the person who is, in fact, not your boyfriend, but the person who has been courting you for a little while now.

~~~~~~~

"Come hop on my back, Y/N." Niki mumbles once the both of you were outside the restaurant. Without much of a protest, you willingly jumped onto his back, reclining a bit when you felt you reeked of alcohol.

In the very back of your mind, you felt it run through a hundred million emotions at the same time. More so from the alcohol, but half from the fact that you were really here. Right here, right now, cradled in Nishimura Riki’s broad, sculpted, back.

Riki is a fellow junior in your college, pursuing a course in arts and design while you pursed tourism. The story as to how the two of you met was odd. That certain day a year back, you’d gone to one of the free smoking areas of your school to go through the last of your pack, only to find him there, cigarette in hand, as poised and sharp as ever.

Since then, he immediately was the apple of your eye. Barely did he spoke, yet his presence and aura felt intense, as if it was commanding— I’m actually right here. You tried talking to him, to which he responded in a very unwelcoming manner.

Until a certain moment in time where the universe had to pull you in together. The classic getting stuck in an elevator trope on your way to the fifth floor of your facility. Odd, right? Still, ever since, Nishimuka Riki has always just been there, perhaps not in a vocal and showy manner, but his actions proved otherwise.

That’s why you rarely showed these sides of yours to the person who is currently courting you, aiming to be in your best behaviour. Nishimura Riki, despite having bad habits such as smoking, (though, well, you couldn’t speak much you did the same) he was by all odds, the most stern guy you’ve ever countered. Stern as in, by all means, whatever shits life throwed his way, he was rarely distracted and kept his goal straight.

Meaning, you never know what he thinks most of the time.

“‘M sorry for acting like this.” You mumble beneath, refusing to lay your head on his shoulder and instead withstanding the strong effects of the alcohol making you sluggish.

Riki does not respond for a second.

“You don’t have to be, it’s fine.”

You squint your eyes, playfully whining and kicking your legs around. Riki pulls you closer to his back, “I feel like… Most of the time, you have me figured out and I don’t.”

He hums. “What do you mean?”

You poke his cheek, finally giving and resting your head on his shoulder. “You’re always so calm, composed, nonchalant even. While I always lose my shits at the smallest things. It’s like, I feel like I have to have myself together around you.”

Nishimura Riki listens.

This is what you always thought about him. Never jumping into conclusions, making assumptions of his own. He waits, patiently, before giving an opinion.

“And well… I didn’t want to show this side of you because you might think of me different.”

“Different? How?”

“That I’m someone who doesn’t have her life together, or gets so noisy and playful when drunk or, that I have the most weirdest interests and hobbies. I didn’t want you to think like that, especially since I am older than you.” You admit, craddling your head closer to his neck. He smelled good.

“… You’re a bit funny noona, you know that?” Riki says. You slap his back with a snort, “I thought we stopped we the noona thing.”

Riki laughs, twisting his head to side. It was one of his habits, whenever he says something that perhaps embarrassed, made him shy, disappointed or whatever— he clicked his head to the side.

“We did. Say, can I put you down? Are you not stumbling down anymors and saying weird stuff?”

You were immediately reminded of what happened just a few minutes back at the restaurant.

“I did NOT say weird stuff!” You counter. Riki laughs, putting you down gently and turning to face you.

The embarrassment was replaced with shock as he comes to place a hand on your warm, red cheeks. The both of you stood beneath a sparking street light in the quiet of the night.

Riki stares. Just stares at you.

“W-what are you doing…” You say, turning your head to the side. He pinches your cheeks, “Ow! Ow!”

“I’m sorry.” Riki laughs, truly not sorry. “What were you saying earlier? I’m your boyfriend?” He teases, pulling your cheeks a little tighter.

You pout, “I’m sorry… It’s just that— Ah! Nevermind.”

Riki’s ears piqued with interest. No way in hell where you going to—

“What was that?”

He inches impossibly closer to your face, distance was no longer a word. You felt his nose brush a bit against yours, he was staring so intensely at you again with that stern gaze of his. His hand looses itself from your cheeks.

Fucking hell. You felt as if you couldn’t breath.

“I said it was n-nothing…”

Riki grins, “you can tell me.”

He always had his with words, always had his ways with you.

“My friend who called you also used to have a massive crush on you, but that was before!” you raise both your hands in defense, “She respects this, and us now, and—“

Riki laughs, really laughs, reeling his head back in such a dramatic way. The shame inside your body bubbled, and you could not find the right words to even say, the right movement to even do.

Maybe Riki thought it was funny because well, by all technicality as to what relationships actually mean— you are not his boyfriend, yet. You have not answered him as to what the both of you truly are, yet your actions, time spent together, the things you did with each other— for people who do not know you well would think otherwise.

“You are so adorable.” He says, patting your head.

“Am not!”

“You are.”

“I am not.”

Without much of a word, Riki suddenly places a soft, gentle kiss on your cheek. It tenses you up, keeps you in place. It was moments like these where you feel vulnerable around Riki. Sure, you were older than him, perhaps know a little bit more than he, but his unpredictability keeps you on your toes.

It excites you, and it makes you feel childish in a way, too.

“The most adorable.”

Riki grins as he looks into your eyes. He pats your head, “let’s get you home, yeah? I have a duty as your boyfriend.”

And you smack him in the arm.

~~~~

“Thank you for taking me home, Riki.”

Your footsteps hit the ground of your apartment as you face Riki, fingers intertwined with each other. It had been around midnight, and although Riki lives just a little farther away from you, you felt appreciative of his efforts of coming all the way to pick you up.

“Don’t sweat it, I want you to get home safe.” He says, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

“Well… I guess this is—”

“Say,” Riki coughs, turning his head to the side. “I’m a little thirsty… Is it okay if I crash and get some water?”

“Oh? Ah! Yeah sure, hold on.”

You visibly panick.

Riki wants to go into your house?

You felt yourself internally squeal. Lucky enough for you, the fact that you cleaned beforehand means you’ll be saved from the embarrassment. But another fact remains: You’ve finally reached the point where he wants to go into your house?

Without a word, you fumble with the keys as you turn to open the door and let him inside. You do not dare to look at him, only closing the door and heading towards the kitchen as he follows you.

However, before you were even able to get a step in, Riki swiftly holds your hand and embraces you. He embraces you.

“Wha-”

“Shh.” He cooes, arms wrapped around your shoulders, as his head placed itself atop your head. Hundreds of fireworks exploded in your head. You saw nothing but his black hoodie, and only felt his tight and warm embrace as well as his strong perfume which stained your nose into a coma.

God, it feels so right when you’re wrapper around his arms.

“Just tell me if you want to answer me already.” Riki mumbles, vulnerability in his voice. “You’ve been going back and forth— it’s driving me crazy, Y/N.”

“Seriously, it’s fucking driving me crazy.”

Riki spoke more so to himself, this is the first time you’d ever hear him, feel him with so much more than his stoic, and calm composed self. It was as if he is breaking in front of you right now.

“I can never go to sleep at night knowing I can’t have you in my arms, because we’re not together.”

Riki holds you impossibly closer to his body. You wrap your arms around him, listening.

“I want to say to the world you’re my girlfriend, and that I’m your boyfriend. Yeah?”

You nod.

“So just… Be honest with me and tell me if you want me.”

He pauses, “Otherwise-”

“I want you, Riki.”

You say without a doubt. Truly, you did want him. And although this may not be the best occassion to say it out loud, here you were, admitting your heartfelt feelings to the man who’s been by your side for months now.

It felt right, it felt absolutely right.

And you’d be damned if Riki hears your longingness for him once more through your mumbling drunk self.

“I guess I just don’t know how to say it, I’m sorry—”

Riki presses his lips against yours, rough, yet soft and delicate at the same time.

He kisses you deeply, and you kiss back, holding onto his hoodie for dear life. It was as if the alcohol had consumed you, yet at the same time, you felt conscious and aware that the two of you are doing this. He knows, you know, too.

The both of you know that doing this would mean you’d be answering his long awaited courtship, would mean that you’re trying a knot that signifies you both not as friends, not as anything platonic, but as partners. As soulmates.

And you kissed him like your life depended on it. Riki does the same, holding you tight as if letting go of you would mean you’d be out of his grasp.

But you won’t let go of his grasp, your legs felt too weak to do so. Your arms felt too tense to even more, and god, your lips were stuck on his.

Yet the only thing that kept you apart was the need for air, gasping as your lips fell apart from his and a string of your heavy breaths and saliva connected you both.

Riki lays his forehead into yours, holding the small of your back. You cup his cheeks,

“I want you bad too, Riki.”

The two of you smile, souls connected and intertwined.

“I guess I’m your boyfriend now, huh?”

And Riki just hoped you didn’t feel the warmth of his cheeks, or the red of his ears the whole night, or the fact that he, in fact, ever only tried to keep his composure around in hopes of impressing the wits out of you.

Ahhh... He must be really, really, down bad.

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ END *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

[aventurineswife]

I'm currently experiencing hsr brainrot help me, may I request aventurine, blade, sunday, jing yuan and boothill about their types or preferences(appearance, personality, and stuff like that) for their future significant partner? I'm not sure if this had been already done so ignore if yes!! Also I'm a new follower and I've read many of your works recently, I really love your writing style and how it ticks my brainrot just righttt ♡♡♡

HSR Characters and their preferences in a S/O

A/N: I tried my best here, but I didn’t get into specifics about hair color, eye color, or other physical attributes (except for scars and such). So please, don’t come after me (I’m joking, of course). After all, at the end of the day, it’s all fictional! 💀 And this is just my personal opinion on what the men would want in a S/O 😇. I hope you like this!

Appearance:

Aventurine is captivated by individuals who radiate subtle individuality—those who blend sophistication with an undercurrent of boldness. Unconventional touches like asymmetrical accessories, vibrant patterns, or a daring hairstyle intrigue him, especially when worn with confidence.

He’s drawn to a balance between practicality and elegance—someone whose style is functional yet carries an artistic flair, a quiet rebellion against conformity.

A piercing gaze, sharp and confident, mesmerizes him. He loves the challenge of eyes that seem to see past his charm and into the broken truths he hides.

Scars, blemishes, or physical imperfections catch his attention. They whisper untold stories he aches to unravel, providing a glimpse into the person beyond the surface.

Personality:

Aventurine seeks a partner who thrives in the dance of words and wit. He’s fascinated by someone who can keep him guessing—playfully resistant to his charm and never predictable.

He’s drawn to people who’ve endured hardship and emerged stronger, finding common ground in shared trauma or survival instincts.

While Aventurine guards his vulnerability, he craves someone with the emotional intelligence to see past his bravado. Their ability to intuit his needs, even when unspoken, creates a sense of safety.

He admires a grounding presence—someone self-assured yet humble, who can counterbalance his more dramatic tendencies without overshadowing him.

Compatibility:

High-stakes situations invigorate him, so he appreciates a partner who thrives under pressure. Whether it’s in a game of strategy or a tense negotiation, he seeks someone who can match his composure and cunning.

Trust is a slow-burning process for Aventurine. His partner must be patient, willing to navigate his walls without forcing him to open up before he’s ready.

Dynamic:

Aventurine doesn’t just want a lover—he needs a partner-in-crime. Someone willing to embrace the thrill of calculated risks, whether it’s a dangerous gamble or a perfectly executed scheme.

They balance his indulgent tendencies, providing a steady hand when he flirts with self-destruction. Together, they form a dynamic duo—equal parts chaos and control.

Appearance:

Blade has little concern for traditional beauty, focusing instead on the feeling someone evokes. He’s drawn to understated traits that exude calm, mystery, or quiet strength.

A serene or enigmatic aura captivates him, especially in those who seem like they’ve weathered storms of their own. Scars or imperfections are less flaws and more badges of survival—silent testaments to a shared pain.

There’s a certain poetry in subtlety that Blade finds magnetic, such as the way someone carries themselves or a fleeting, knowing glance.

Personality:

Blade’s ideal partner must embody gentle resilience—a quiet strength that offers stability amidst his chaos. He’s not drawn to overt displays of power but rather to those who endure with grace.

His partner needs to respect his emotional distance and allow their bond to deepen organically. They provide solace through presence, not pressure.

Understanding his guilt and anger without pitying him is crucial. He needs someone who offers comfort without trying to “fix” him.

He admires individuals who remain true to themselves, even in the face of his volatility. Their grounded nature becomes his anchor.

Compatibility:

Blade struggles with verbal affection and grand gestures. His partner must value actions over words—small, meaningful gestures like a shared silence or a comforting touch.

Loyalty is paramount. Blade often tests boundaries, whether intentionally or not, and needs a partner who remains steadfast in their care.

Dynamic:

Blade seeks a relationship built on mutual protection. His ideal partner isn’t there to save him but to walk beside him as he confronts his demons.

Their love is a slow-burning fire, marked by quiet moments of vulnerability and unspoken understanding. They don’t demand his trust but earn it, piece by fractured piece.

Appearance:

Sunday gravitates toward those with an ethereal or graceful quality—a beauty that feels otherworldly yet grounded. He appreciates the quiet elegance that reflects his Halovian heritage.

Symbolic trinkets or meaningful accessories, like earrings or pendants, resonate deeply with him, mirroring his love for intricate details and subtle meaning.

Personality:

Sunday is drawn to those who counter his melancholic worldview with a hopeful, compassionate perspective. He needs someone who gently challenges his ideals without dismissing his emotions.

His partner must possess a quiet, unwavering self-confidence. They confront his twisted philosophies with patience and understanding, offering a grounding presence.

A partner with a playful streak appeals to him, especially when it contrasts with his solemn demeanor. Their lightheartedness reminds him of life’s simple joys.

Compatibility:

Sunday needs a partner who can understand his lofty ideals and gently challenge them, offering a grounded perspective that helps him reconcile his desire for a perfect world with the imperfections of reality. They should help him navigate his philosophical struggles without dismissing his emotions.

Sunday thrives in a relationship where emotional depth is paired with moments of lightness. His ideal partner balances serious conversations with a playful streak that brings joy and reminds him of life’s simple pleasures, helping him reconnect with spontaneous joy.

Trust is built slowly for Sunday, so his partner must be patient, allowing their bond to deepen organically. They should provide stability and comfort, supporting him as he works through his emotional walls and guiding him toward growth without forcing him to change before he’s ready.

Dynamic:

Sunday’s ideal relationship thrives on emotional intimacy. His partner navigates his philosophical struggles with care, providing warmth and optimism without trying to fix him.

They challenge his tendency to idealize perfection, helping him rediscover beauty in imperfection and spontaneity.

Appearance:

Boothill is drawn to raw, unrefined beauty—someone who’s lived and survived, marked by the stories their body tells. Scars, tattoos, and bold fashion choices are a reflection of resilience and adventure, and he admires individuals who wear their history as a badge of honor. He’s captivated by those who can rock vibrant, contrasting colors or mismatched styles with confidence, projecting a sense of strength and individuality.

He’s particularly fond of eyes that burn with fire and determination—eyes that match his intensity, yet hold a vulnerability only the right person can see. Confidence is key, but it’s that unpolished confidence, the kind that’s earned through hardship, that pulls him in.

Personality:

Boothill craves a partner who can match his fierce energy and boldness. He’s drawn to those who share his burning passion for justice and fighting for what’s right, even if it means breaking the rules. He admires fearless individuals who challenge authority and embrace a world of gray, not just black and white.

A sharp, witty partner who can banter with him is essential—they need to hold their ground in arguments, but still know how to make him laugh. Beneath his hard exterior, he secretly yearns for warmth and loyalty, someone who sees past his rough exterior and recognizes the vulnerabilities hidden underneath.

Patience is a challenge for him, but he seeks someone who can balance his impulsive nature, tempering his decisions with wisdom while never dulling his fire. The ideal partner doesn’t just soothe his rage—they fan the flames in the best way possible, stoking the fires of his passion and his purpose.

Compatibility:

Boothill’s partner would have to keep up with his relentless pace, matching him in the heat of battle as much as in life. They must be able to stand beside him during intense moments of action, yet offer solace and understanding in quieter, more reflective ones. His ideal relationship is built on equal footing—where passion and respect for one another fuel their connection.

Their dynamic would never be boring—full of challenges, shared adventures, and a fiery bond formed through trials, risks, and the occasional reckless decision. They would push each other toward greatness, not with soothing words, but through daring acts of loyalty and love.

Dynamic:

Boothill wants a relationship full of intensity, one where his partner isn’t afraid to stand by him, even if it means navigating chaos or defying the odds together.

This is not a relationship where either party is passive—it’s a partnership of equals, where each individual’s strength and spirit fuel the other. Their love would burn brightly, fueled by both passion and unshakable loyalty, with both of them walking side by side through any storm, ready to fight for each other and what they believe in.

Appearance:

Jing Yuan is drawn to elegance and grace—someone whose appearance radiates composure and quiet strength. He appreciates fine details and a refined aesthetic, as he values artistry in all aspects of life. A partner who can carry themselves with quiet dignity, with clothing that flows or intricate designs, would catch his attention.

However, while Jing Yuan admires serenity, he finds himself captivated by the unexpected spark in someone’s personality. A playful glint in the eye or a mischievous smile is enough to unsettle his calm demeanor, drawing him in even more. He appreciates someone who can maintain their elegance but isn’t afraid to reveal the more unpredictable, adventurous sides of themselves when the moment calls for it.

Personality:

Jing Yuan is in search of a partner who has a calm, patient demeanor—someone who understands the complexities of his strategic mind and the burdens he carries. His ideal partner is not only compassionate and wise, but also someone who can see the long-term view, matching his ability to think and plan for the future.

At the same time, he’s charmed by a partner who can bring a sense of spontaneity to his life. While he thrives on stability, he appreciates the occasional touch of unpredictability—someone who can light a fire under his more sedentary tendencies, adding a dash of excitement to the otherwise peaceful routines he enjoys. He values a balance of tranquility and energy, where his partner’s playfulness can bring joy without overwhelming him.

Compatibility:

Jing Yuan’s ideal partner would have the patience to stand by him through quiet moments of reflection, as well as the capacity to engage with him in deep, meaningful conversations. They would respect his thoughtful, strategic nature, while also encouraging him to take moments of respite, enjoying the beauty of life’s simpler pleasures together.

They would need to understand his need for a sense of long-term stability, yet not let him become too withdrawn or passive. A deep intellectual connection, rooted in shared wisdom and mutual understanding, would lay the foundation of their bond. Their connection would be built on the steady progression of trust and affection, growing subtly over time.

Dynamic:

Jing Yuan seeks a partner who can offer emotional intimacy without pressuring him for more than he’s ready to give. They’d share moments of serene companionship, where quiet silences are comfortable, and words aren’t necessary to convey their bond. However, his ideal partner wouldn’t shy away from challenging him, nudging him out of his intellectual ruts and helping him see the world in a new light.

The dynamic would be one of mutual respect, with his partner both grounding him and adding an unpredictable spark to his life. While he values peacefulness, he enjoys the occasional adventure or light-hearted moments that break through his more serious demeanor, reminding him that even in the pursuit of wisdom, life can be full of wonder.

P-please don't come after me...😭😕

[usagii-bun]

PART 3|| ⭑.ᐟ 𝖻𝗅𝗎𝗋𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗅𝗂𝗇𝖾𝗌| 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝖿𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗈𝗋 ! 𝖺𝗅𝗁𝖺𝗂𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗆 𝗑 𝖼𝖺𝗆𝗀𝗂𝗋𝗅! 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 — 𝗇𝗌𝖿𝗐 𝟣𝟪+ [MDNI]

— (𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝖻𝗒 𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗂𝗆𝗒𝗈𝗇 𝗈𝗇 𝗑.)

PART 1 , PART 2 , PART 3

𝗌𝗎𝗆𝗆𝖺𝗋𝗒...in which you are a cam girl and he is your favorite viewer OR in which you are a final year college student and he is your new professor ♡

𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌... smut, rough sex, oral sex (f and m),possessive sex, hair-pulling, vaginal fingering, spanking, masturbating( f and m), doggy style, mating press, language (these warnings are for all 4 parts)

also, please do like, reblog, and comment. i love to hear your thoughts about this <33

word count: 10.2k

As you enter the college hall, a familiar blend of nerves and anticipation washes over you, a feeling that has lingered since last night. The memory of your earlier slip sends a wave of heat to your cheeks, and you struggle to reconcile the embarrassment with the thrill of the moment.

'Professor' you had moaned during your cam session, the words escaping your lips before you even realised what you had said. Lost in a whirlwind of illicit fantasies about Alhaitham, you hadn’t registered the slip until it was too late.

Great. They probably think I have a professor kink. A thought that, while tempting to entertain, is one you refuse to acknowledge fully. The mere idea of facing Professor Alhaitham after your indiscretion makes you want to combust or just fucking disappear.

Last night, you had surrendered to the allure of your fantasies about him—four times—each time caught in a delusion about a man who, in reality, would never see you as a viable partner.

One you are his student.

Two, he seems to possess an almost otherworldly quality, as if he has emerged from the ether without parents to guide him.

Three, he exudes an aura that suggests he wouldn’t be interested in dating someone younger than himself.

And four, he is your professor.

He embodies everything you desire in a man: handsome, intelligent, and caring. You shake your head, inhaling deeply to clear the clutter of thoughts centered solely on him. If you’re going to survive this day without embarrassing yourself in his presence, you need to rein in your thoughts and emotions. With a confident smile, you push the doors open, your gaze sweeping across the room until it settles on him at the front.

“Fuck.”

Your resolve crumbles as your eyes lock onto Professor Alhaitham, who appears even more captivating today. The sight of him—tall and composed, absorbed in his notes—takes your breath away. He is already there, exuding an air of calm as he flips through his documents, completely unfazed. Dressed in a crisp white button-up shirt, the top button undone, revealing a hint of his collarbone, and fitted black slacks, he looks effortlessly sophisticated.

His tousled hair frames his face perfectly, and his glasses perch on the bridge of his nose as he reads. 'Please bend me over your desk and take me like the—' Your thoughts freeze as his gaze suddenly meets yours. In that moment, something shifts. His expression remains largely unchanged, yet the flicker of recognition in his eyes sends a jolt through you, leaving your heart racing and your mind reeling.

“Well, well,” he remarked, a dry amusement threading through his voice as he lifted his gaze to meet yours. “It’s so nice to see you on time for once.” The memory of your first encounter flooded back, a moment etched in your mind when he had delivered a sharp insult that stung more than you’d like to admit.

Your cheeks burned with lingering embarrassment, but you couldn’t resist the urge to scoff, rolling your eyes dramatically as you made your way across the room to your usual seat.

“What can I say?” you retorted, a thick layer of sarcasm coating your words. “I wouldn’t want to deprive myself of another opportunity to bask in the brilliance of your lectures.”

A faint smirk danced at the corners of his mouth, his eyes glinting with an intelligence that was both sharp and playful. “Careful,” he replied, his voice smooth as silk, each word deliberately measured. “Too much sarcasm, and the first-years might start thinking you’re only here for my company.”

Maybe I am here only for your company, you thought, directing him a subtle glare that barely masked the tumult of thoughts swirling in your mind. Memories of last night crept in, and you fought to anchor yourself back in the present, pushing aside the alluring distractions that threatened to pull you under.

His casual yet cutting remark sent a wave of heat to your cheeks despite your best efforts to remain unfazed. You opened your mouth to shoot back a snarky response, but the way his gaze lingered on you—intense and probing—made you falter, if only for a fleeting moment.

There was an unmistakable energy in his eyes—a blend of challenge and teasing—that left you feeling slightly unsettled.

“You seem a bit on edge today,” Alhaitham observed, his tone casual, yet there was a note of curiosity beneath it. “Oh, I just didn’t sleep well last night,” you deflected, the lie slipping easily from your lips as you tried to mask the real reason behind your unease. “Too much caffeine before bed.”

Alhaitham hums thoughtfully, a knowing glint in his eyes that sends a shiver down your spine. “Caffeine, huh?” he muses, tilting his head slightly as if weighing your words.  “I suppose it’s easy to blame caffeine for sleepless nights. But you know, it’s often the mind that keeps us awake,” he replies, his voice smooth.

“Maybe you should try clearing your thoughts before bed instead.” He leans in slightly,  “Or do you have other distractions keeping you up?” His tone is casual, but the underlying implication sends your heart racing.

You couldn't show that his words affected you, your mind racing about last night. You felt paranoid like as if he knew but you knew that was impossible as you meet his gaze, a mixture of surprise and intrigue washing over you. “I guess you could say that,” you reply, your voice steady despite the flutter in your stomach. “But it’s not always easy to silence a restless mind, especially with everything going on.” You lean back slightly, trying to play it cool.

You wanted to high five yourself for the sleek answer as you watched his expression change, your eyes focused everywhere but on his. “What about you? You seem like someone who has it all figured out.” Alhaitham chuckles softly, the sound low and almost intimate. “Is that what you think?” he asks, his eyes never leaving you even as you pointedly avoid his gaze. “I might be good at keeping things in order, but even I can’t escape a wandering mind sometimes.” He pauses, watching you fidget slightly. “Though I find that facing what’s on your mind is often more effective than avoiding it,” he adds, his voice dipping just enough to make your pulse quicken.

You shift uncomfortably under the weight of his gaze, heart racing, before deciding to escape the tension. You force a nervous smile as you slowly inch your way towards your desk. "Haha, wise words from a wise man,” you say with a light laugh, hoping to ease the tension, but the moment the words leave your mouth, you cringe internally.

Alhaitham raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “That’s a bit of a shallow observation, don’t you think?” His tone is calm, but there’s an edge of intellectual superiority that stings. “I expected something more insightful.” Your cheeks flush in embarrassment as you finally reach your seat, sinking into it quickly.

You drop your bag onto the desk, hoping the conversation is over, feeling the weight of his comment linger as you try to brush it off. you dropped your bag onto the desk and slid into your seat, opening your laptop to prepare the slides for today’s lesson. The early morning email from Alhaitham had come as a surprise, his note brief and to the point, requesting you to compile his last-minute thoughts into a presentation. He didn’t have time to do it himself.

“You could have sent me this last night, I spent my whole morning putting this together for you.” you whined, the words had slipped out before you could catch them, an echo of your frustration. “Oh, I didn’t want to worry you,” he had replied, his tone deceptively nonchalant. “I kept you late last night with our little dinner.” There had been a pause, a shift in his words.

“You probably had other, more important things to do after that.” Again, your paranoia ate at you. The implications hung in the air like a heavy fog, and heat rushed to your cheeks as your mind drifted back to your cam session, remembering the way you’d moaned his title for your audience. You turned back to the slides, flustered, trying to focus on the task at hand but you couldn't help but reply back. “Well, I would have still had it done,” you said defiantly, straightening in your seat and meeting his gaze.

“Then you would have probably slept throughout the whole morning and ended up coming late for my first-year lecture,” he countered, his voice smooth and unbothered. “Better than listening to you drone on like a monotone robot,” you replied, a smirk tugging at your lips as you leaned back in your chair.

“Touché,” he said, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. He straightened up, a glint of something unreadable in his eyes. "But if I’m a robot, then that makes you my delightful assistant—crafted to enhance my teaching.” He says, his large body shadowing over yours as he stood infront of the desk you sat at, he tilts his head as if sizing you up.

“Crafted, huh?” you retorted, crossing your arms defiantly. “Maybe you should send me to a repair shop then; I’m definitely malfunctioning.” You raised an eyebrow, maintaining your playful stance, but the heat of his gaze made your heart race.

For a brief moment, the atmosphere shifted, the playful banter charged with an energy that sent butterflies fluttering in your stomach as you draw your focus back on your laptop. You didn’t notice the subtle knowing smile that crept onto Alhaitham’s face as he walked around your desk, the air around him radiating warmth.

Then he stood behind you, leaning forward with one hand bracing the desk just beside your arm, the other slipping into his pocket. The proximity was almost suffocating, and before you could stop it, your mind drifted—back to last night, when you’d been in front of your camera, your body on display for your audience. Your face flushed at the memory, heart thudding wildly in your chest.

How could you think of it now? You’d been lost in your own little world last night, playing to the camera, murmuring 'Professor' in a breathy tone that was meant for faceless strangers.

But now, with him standing right here, close enough that you could smell his clean, woodsy scent, the recollection of your voice—his title—was all you could hear. Your breath hitched. The warmth of him, the way he leaned in just slightly, his scent swirling around you—it was almost too much.

Your heart raced, and for a second, the boundary between reality and fantasy blurred. You swallowed hard, biting your lip as your mind drifted to the idea of his body pressed behind you, his hands gripping your waist tightly— surely to leave his hand prints behind as he takes you from behind, the strong harsh thrusts of his hips slamming into your ass, his teeth biting into the exposed skin of your shoulder as he — A soft pat on your head jolted you back to reality, and you blinked, heat rushing to your cheeks.

The touch was so unexpected, so casual, that it shocked you back to the present. “Good girl,” he murmured, his voice low and smooth. “The slides look great. You’ve done well.” The praise hit you like a jolt of electricity, making your pulse stutter. There was something about the way he said it—calm, composed, yet laced with a teasing edge that made heat creep up your neck.

You could feel your entire body react, the tension coiling in your stomach as his hand lingered for just a moment longer than necessary before pulling away. You turned to look at him, to say thank you but instead your words were stuck in your throat. His face was inches away from yours, your eyes widen slightly.

“And also stop letting your mind wander while I talk to you; I’d prefer to think you’re hanging onto my every word,” Alhaitham said, his intense gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that made your heart race.

You could hardly focus on the lecture as your mind spiraled into uncharted territory. 'Yeah, I’m actually thinking of hanging onto you as you push me against the wall and take control. ' The thought sent a rush of heat through your cheeks, and you quickly averted your gaze, trying to suppress the flustered smile threatening to break free.

“Right, because your words are the only thing worth hanging onto,” you shot back, attempting to sound more confident than you felt. “Next, you’ll be telling me you could give a TED talk on the art of monotony.” He chuckled softly, the sound low and amused.

“Monotony is a skill, you know. But perhaps I should consider changing my approach, just to keep your attention.” His smirk widened, and you could see a glint of mischief in his eyes as he added, “Or perhaps you need a more stimulating environment to stay engaged.” As he stepped back, the distance between you returned to its normal state, but the warmth lingered in your cheeks, along with the remnants of the heat his proximity had ignited.

For a second, you were grateful he couldn’t see your face when he turned his back towards you—flushed as it was with the sudden flood of thoughts—thoughts you shouldn’t be having in a classroom.

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to focus on the task at hand, even as your heart raced, and your mind replayed his words. Good girl. You wanted to melt into the floor. The lecture began soon after, and despite your best efforts, your thoughts kept drifting.

Alhaitham’s voice was steady, commanding the room with his usual composed authority, but you found it hard to concentrate. Instead of taking notes, you doodled absently in the margins of your notebook, your mind wandering between the slides and the lingering warmth of his touch, the teasing praise he’d given you.

You had barely noticed the end of the lesson when the shuffle of students leaving the room pulled you back to reality. As you began to gather your things, Alhaitham, ever perceptive, leaned over and plucked the sheet of paper you’d been doodling on from the desk.

“Doodling, I see?” His voice carried that same air of dry amusement, his brow arching slightly as he looked at the aimless swirls of ink. “Not exactly an artistic masterpiece, I suppose you’d rather doodle than listen to me" he said, his voice smooth and teasing, “I could always give you a bunch of thesis papers to mark instead.”

You rolled your eyes, unable to resist. “Wouldn't want to ruin your flawless teaching reputation, Professor.” You gestured dramatically toward the stacks of papers on his desk. He tilted his head, a teasing glint in his eye.

“At least I’m not the one doodling during a lecture, potentially ruining my students’ futures.” He crossed his arms, feigning a look of mock disappointment. You let out a soft laugh, reaching to take the paper back, but he held it just out of reach, his expression maddeningly calm.

“I’m not here to make your lectures look good,” you shot back, sarcasm dripping from your voice. “I’m here because I have to be.” He gave a quiet chuckle, folding the paper and slipping it into his pocket like it was something valuable.

“Well,” he said, that same infuriating smirk tugging at his lips, “you’ve been doing quite well, as my assistant. Though I have to admit, your work ethic sometimes leaves room for improvement.” You narrowed your eyes at him, the subtle possessiveness in his tone slipping past you entirely.

“My work ethic?” you echoed, giving him an exaggerated look of mock offense. “I’d say you’re lucky to have me.” His smirk widened, the faintest hint of something unreadable flickering in his eyes.

“I never said otherwise.” There was a brief pause, and then, casually—almost too casually—he added, “I enjoyed your company last night.” Your heart skipped a beat.

He’d said it so smoothly, without a second thought, but it lingered in the air between you, heavy with implication. Your mind raced back to last night, the way he’d looked at you when you’d shared that quiet moment, the conversation last night felt just a little too intimate.

For a moment, you hesitated, unsure of how to respond. And then, with a small, teasing smile, you asked, “And... what would that make this, then? Another ‘company outing’?”

Does that mean he sees you more that his student ? Maybe he now saw you as a friend, that was a good step to getting closer to him ? Correct ?

He paused, his eyes flickering with something deeper, something darker. “Another… occasion for your assistance,” he replied smoothly, though the weight of his words seemed to carry a deeper meaning. “In a slightly different context.” Your breath caught at the subtle, suggestive undertone in his voice.

The way he said it—so calm, so controlled—made your heart race faster. “But not today. I have other plans for us,” Alhaitham said, his voice low and deliberate. Your brows furrowed as you processed his words, the weight of it hanging in the air.

You raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at your lips. “Oh really? Should I be concerned or flattered?” you shot back, sarcasm lacing your tone, though the flutter in your chest betrayed your casual front.

Alhaitham’s lips curved slightly. “Depends on how much you enjoy surprises,” he replied, his gaze still holding yours, the tension between you unmistakable.

“But what kind of surprise?” you asked, a hint of sarcasm in your tone, raising an eyebrow at him. Alhaitham’s gaze remained steady, lips curving into a faint smirk.

“Marking,” he replied simply, his tone casual, though there was an edge to it you couldn’t quite place. You blinked, unimpressed.

“Marking? That’s the big surprise?” He shrugged, leaning back slightly. “What? It’s important work,” he said, his voice laced with amusement, but the way he said it made you feel like there was something more lurking beneath the surface.

The walk back to his office was thick with tension, the quiet hallway amplifying every footstep. The college was nearly deserted, only the hum of distant lighting and the faint echo of their steps filling the space. The cool evening air filtered through the open windows, contrasting with the warmth that radiated between them.

Alhaitham towered over you, the height difference making you feel small but far from insignificant in his presence. When he unlocked the door to his office and gestured for you to enter, you weren’t prepared for what you saw—a pool table, sleek and out of place, dominating the room.

His office was a mix of academic and personal space, bookshelves lining the walls, his desk neatly stacked with papers, but the pool table stole your attention. You raised an eyebrow, glancing at him.

"Oh well this is new...I didn’t exactly peg you for someone who plays pool." Alhaitham grumbled, running a hand through his hair.

"Professor...Kaveh’s doing. The idiot’s redoing his office and shoved it in here until he’s done." His tone was laced with annoyance as he shrugged off his coat, tossing it onto a nearby chair.

He moved with calculated ease, and when he turned to lock the door behind him, his gaze lingered on you, darker than usual. You stood there, awkwardly shifting from foot to foot, feeling the weight of his attention.

You chuckled softly, taking a moment to admire the table’s polished surface. “I’ve never played before,” you confessed, glancing up at him. His usual detached demeanor softened slightly, something unfamiliar flickering in his eyes. "Well, why don’t I show you how it’s done? It’s Friday, after all. We can relax today instead of working." he said quietly, walking toward the table.

His voice was calm, but there was a dangerous undercurrent that made your pulse quicken.

"But what about the papers you wanted to mark ? 'The suprise' Don't you need to submit them soon?" you question, Alhaitham gazed back up at you and than at the clock on the wall.

"It's past my work hours. Once it hits five and I have no other obligations, I clock out." He says nonchalantly, your brows furrowed as you remember all those days he kept you way after 5 doing tedious and even sometimes silly tasks that kept you with him in his office till 7 or even later.

You didn't say anything as the thought of spending more time with him, just the two of you in this quiet office, sent a thrill through you. You glanced around, noticing how the dim lighting created a cozy atmosphere “You know what? Why not?” you replied, a grin spreading across your face as you finally relaxed to the idea or playing a simple game of pool with your professor.

Alhaitham smiled back, and you could feel the warmth of his gaze as he moved to set up the game. As he lined up the balls, you couldn’t help but feel a rush of excitement.

This was an opportunity to see a different side of him, to explore the uncharted territory that lay between you. “Let’s see if you have any hidden talents,” he teased, a playful spark in his eyes a contrast to his usual dull and bored gaze.

You watched him as he lined up the balls, his movements so fluid and confident. There was no turning back now. The tension in the room seemed to thicken with every second as he handed you the cue stick, his fingers brushing against yours for a moment, sending a spark of electricity through your skin.

“Stand here,” he instructed, guiding you to the side of the table. “Grip the cue like this.” You tried to follow his directions, but your hands were unsteady, and your mind was racing too fast to fully focus on what he was saying. The room felt smaller, the air heavy and warm.

You could feel his presence behind you, the soft hum of his voice brushing against your ears as he explained the game. You attempted to hit the ball, but it only wobbled awkwardly across the table. Heat rose to your cheeks as you let out a nervous laugh, glancing at him sheepishly.

“I told you I wasn’t any good at this.” Alhaitham didn’t laugh. Instead, he stepped closer, his gaze locking onto yours in a way that made your breath catch. “It’s alright,” he murmured, his voice lower now, almost a whisper.

He walks towards you but pauses. "Can I show you how to postion yourself?” His words were simple but they made your heartbeat faster. With just a simple nod of your head, Alhaitham slid behind you, you felt the warmth of his body pressed against yours— his chest pressed against your back as his hand reaches for yours that held the cue.

Your heart pounding in your chest as your hands turned clammy, trembling slightly under the weight of his. His large hand enveloped yours on the cue, steadying it. Your legs felt weak beneath you, and the strong scent of him washed over you like a wave, almost intoxicating. His chest pressed against your back—much closer than necessary—much closer than needed and the warmth of his breath ghosted across the nape of your neck, sending a cascade of goosebumps down your spine.

His grip tightened around your hand, guiding the cue, while his other hand held yours at the end of it. He bent forward, pressing his body against yours even more as he aligned you with the ball, leaving no space between the two of you. Your eyes widened, the sudden realization hitting you that you were completely caged beneath him, his strength and presence overwhelming.

Your mind raced, thoughts spinning out of control, each one more dangerous than the last. You were dangerously close to your professor, in a position you shouldn't even be in, it felt very intimate.

You had to leave before you overthought things, before you said or did something you'd regret.

“P-Pr-professor, it’s getting late,” you stammered nervously, trying to find your voice, but it came out as little more than a squeak. Instead of releasing you, his grip on your hands tightened, keeping you firmly in place as he aimed the cue at the ball.

“Oh?” he murmured, his voice deep and unsettlingly calm. He leaned closer, his lips brushing your ear as he added, “Late, you say?”

Before you could respond, he cut you off with a chilling whisper.

“Are you getting late to go record yourself?”

Your heart stuttered, skipping a beat as your body went numb. A cold shiver ran down your spine. “W-what?” you whispered, your voice barely audible, as panic surged through you. He smirked, the curve of his lips brushing your ear as he readied your hands and his to hit the ball.

“Do I have to repeat myself?” His voice was smooth, teasing. “Maybe I should be clearer. Are you getting late to go record yourself... and play with your cunt while thinking about your professor?” Your breath caught in your throat, a gasp stuck in your chest at the revelation of his words and the use of such a profanity coming out of his mouth.

As if on cue, he suddenly hit the ball, the clinking sound of the collision echoing in the tense silence. You stood there, frozen, pale as a ghost, your mind struggling to process what he had just said.

“H-how?” you whispered, your voice weak, barely holding on. “I’ve known you as Ms. Bunny for a while now. Three months, to be exact.” His voice was low, almost conversational, as if he were discussing something mundane. “I was never into things like cam girls, but you... you caught my eye. And as if fate threw the ball into my court, you walked right into my hands. My perfect little bunny.” Your breath hitched, your grip loosening on the cue as it clattered softly against the table.

His hands slid slowly, deliberately down your sides, his fingers tracing the curve of your hips, sending another wave of shivers through you. His lips hovered near the nape of your neck, so close you could feel the warmth of his breath, as if he were on the verge of kissing you. And in that moment, everything in you screamed to run, but you couldn’t move—trapped beneath him, caged by his words and touch. You were like a bunny caught in a wolf’s den—small, trembling, and helpless, every instinct telling you to flee, but your body refused to respond.

Your pulse thudded in your ears, drowning out everything else as your breath came in shallow, uneven gasps. His presence towered over you, predatory, his touch both dangerous and deliberate, pinning you in place as if he could snap you up in an instant.

The air around you thickened, suffocating, as if the walls themselves were closing in. His breath on your neck, hot and teasing, sent another shiver coursing through you. You felt exposed, vulnerable, as though you were laid bare in front of him, no escape in sight.

His every movement was controlled, his hands firm and sure, while you were frozen, like prey paralyzed under the hunter's gaze, knowing you were outmatched yet powerless to resist. You felt his hands tighten around your waist as he suddenly turned you to face him, the movement both swift and controlled.

Your heart pounded violently, and before you could catch your breath, his thumb brushed against your bottom lip, pressing gently. His gaze locked onto yours, dark and unreadable, as if he could see through every defense you tried to put up.

"You're going to report me to the college ?" your voice trembling as tears threatening to spill from your eyes as your whole life flashed before your eyes—ruined.

“Report you?” he murmured, voice smooth like velvet, but the underlying tone was sharp, dangerously confident. “Why would I do that to my favorite student… and cam girl?” His thumb pressed a little harder against your lip, teasing, his eyes dragging slowly over your face as if savoring your reaction.

You were trembling, every inch of you on high alert, but then his next words slipped past his lips, low and intimate, sending a wave of heat straight to your core.

“You’re too valuable to me in both of your roles,” he whispered, leaning closer, his breath grazing your skin. “But I wonder…” He paused, his thumb pulling at your lip ever so slightly.

“Do you tremble like this when you’re thinking of me late at night?” Your thighs squeezed together involuntarily, the tension overwhelming, a response you couldn’t hide from him.

He smirked, clearly aware of the effect he had on you, his gaze never leaving yours as he leaned in closer, his presence suffocating in its intensity. Your stomach dropped, your entire body flushing with heat as you remembered last night—your body tangled in sheets, your lips parting with a moan as you fantasized about him.

You had no idea he was watching, no idea that he was aware of how deeply you wanted him. His eyes darkened with an intensity that made your pulse quicken.Your mind raced, a whirlwind of shock and confusion.

You felt exposed, vulnerable, as heat rushed to your cheeks. His gaze burned into yours, every word he said weaving a thread of tension that seemed to wrap tighter and tighter around the two of you.

“Every moan, every sigh,” he whispered, his voice dark and dangerously soft, “it intrigued me. You’ve always had a way of captivating an audience, captivating me.” The air between you crackled, the heat of his body so close to yours igniting every nerve.

His pale turquoise eyes, ringed with that striking shade of orange, roamed your face, lingering on your parted lips, on the flush of your cheeks, and the way your breath hitched in anticipation. His thumb traced your jawline slowly, sending shivers down your spine.

You couldn’t move, couldn’t think—only feel the magnetic pull of his presence, the intensity of his gaze. “I know you desire me as much as I desire you,” he stated, voice deep and sure, his eyes drinking in your reaction, locking onto the tears that glossed your wide eyes.

His words sent a surge of heat rushing through you, and before you could deny or confirm, his hand was already moving, trailing down your neck, fingers grazing the edge of your shirt. The tension built with each passing second, and just when you thought you couldn’t take it any longer, he leaned in.

His lips hovered over yours, his breath warm and teasing against your mouth. You felt every inch of him so close, his chest brushing against yours, the heat of his body seeping into yours. He hesitated for only a heartbeat, giving you a moment to pull away if you wanted to—but you didn’t.

Instead, you found yourself leaning in, closing the gap as if drawn by an invisible force. And then his lips captured yours. The kiss was slow at first, his mouth moving gently against yours, testing, teasing. But the moment you responded, his grip on you tightened, pulling you closer, the kiss deepening with an intensity that sent your heart racing.

His other hand slipped to the small of your back, fingers pressing against the fabric of your shirt, urging you closer to him. As Alhaitham’s lips moved against yours, the kiss deepened. His tongue slid between your parted lips, meeting yours in a slow, sensual dance. The heat of the moment overwhelmed you, and you responded instinctively, your tongue tangling with his in a battle for dominance that made your head spin.

Every touch of his tongue against yours sent shockwaves through your body, a fire igniting in your core as you pressed closer to him, seeking more. His large hands roamed over your back, one sliding up to grip the back of your neck, holding you in place as he kissed you deeper, almost possessively. His other hand trailed down your side, fingers grazing the edge of your exposed skin, sending goosebumps across your body.

The kiss was intoxicating, and every movement of his tongue against yours sent a surge of electricity through your veins. His lips parted slightly, and his tongue dipped back into your mouth, exploring you with an almost deliberate slowness that made you weak in the knees. The warmth of his breath mixed with yours, the taste of him lingering on your lips as he pressed his body closer, trapping you against him.

You moaned softly into the kiss, the sound swallowed by his mouth as his hand moved to your waist, pulling you against him in a way that made your heart race even faster. His grip tightened as his tongue teased yours, the sensation of it sliding against yours both tender and demanding, filling you with a longing you hadn’t felt before.

You felt utterly consumed by him, the tension between you unbearable as his mouth worked expertly against yours, stealing every thought from your mind. Just as he reached to unhook your bra, his lips still pressed against yours, there was a knock at the door. Alhaitham paused for a moment, but instead of pulling away, he groaned lowly against your lips, his tongue still teasing yours as he kept you trapped in the kiss.

His hand, which had been ready to undo the clasp of your bra, stayed firmly in place as he pulled you even closer, as if refusing to be interrupted. He clearly wasn’t finished yet. You whimpered softly, the knock on the door barely registering as your senses were overwhelmed by his touch and the intoxicating way his tongue moved against yours.

Another knock echoed through the room, louder this time. Alhaitham swore under his breath, finally pulling away from the kiss but not letting go of you. His forehead rested against yours for a brief moment, his warm breath mingling with yours. "I locked the door," he murmured, his voice low and gravelly, as if to reassure you that no one could just walk in.

But the knock persisted. With a frustrated sigh, Alhaitham glanced toward the door, clearly annoyed at the interruption. His eyes, now darker with unspoken desire, flickered back to you. "Get under the desk," he ordered softly, his voice carrying a weight that left no room for argument.

"You’re not exactly in a presentable state." You scrambled to obey, quickly adjusting your half-open shirt and ducking under his desk. The tension in the room was palpable, your heart still pounding from the kiss as you crouched down, hidden from view.

Alhaitham straightened himself up, his movements smooth and composed, though you could tell he was still agitated. His fingers combed through his hair, and with a deep breath, he crossed the room, unlocking the door and opening it to reveal Kaveh on the other side.

Kaveh strolled in uninvited, his presence filling the room like an obnoxious breeze. His platinum blonde hair caught the dim light of the office, gleaming as he leaned against the doorframe. He wore sleek trousers, the fabric light and fine, like silk. They crinkled softly as he shifted his weight, standing with one hip cocked. His shirt, loosely untucked, made him look both casual and out of place at this hour. The texture of his trousers was smooth, almost shimmering with the light sheen that played across the fabric, emphasizing the ease with which Kaveh carried himself.

Alhaitham’s jaw tightened in irritation. Without missing a beat, he subtly moved back toward his desk, his eyes glancing down at you hidden beneath it. Your heart raced, pulse quickening as you pressed yourself further into the shadows.

"Really, Kaveh," Alhaitham said, his voice carefully composed though laced with clear annoyance, "was there something urgent you needed?" He casually lowered himself into the desk chair, positioning himself in front of you.

As he did, his thighs brushed against either side of your face, enclosing your head between them. Your breath hitched, eyes widening in shock at how intimately close you suddenly were. The warmth of his body radiated against you, and the scent of him was stronger here, enveloping you entirely.

Your cheeks flushed with heat, your pulse racing at this unexpected situation, and you had to fight to stay still, afraid even the slightest movement would give you away. From above, Alhaitham sat calmly, looking at Kaveh with practiced nonchalance, though the tension in the room was palpable.

He crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back slightly in his chair, though the motion pressed the hard surface of his leg brushing against your chest as you tucked yourself away.

The space was small, the cool wood above your head a stark contrast to the warmth radiating from Alhaitham’s body. Your breath was shallow, heart pounding as you tried to settle into the cramped space. You could feel the steady rhythm of his pulse under your palm where it rested on his thigh, the taut muscle flexing as he moved to close the gap between his chair and the desk.

His thigh muscles were hard under your hand, and the scent of his clean, crisp cologne was intoxicating in such proximity. The subtle shift of fabric against your cheek made you hyperaware of how close you were to his crotch. “Alhaitham,” Kaveh huffed our, annoyed, “What’re you still doing here? I figured you’d have packed up like everyone else. Or are you hoping to sulk in solitude all night?” Alhaitham’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I prefer quiet. Unlike some people.”

Kaveh’s gaze darted to the pool table shoved against the far wall. “Speaking of quiet, how’s your student? I haven’t seen her around. Skipping out on you already?” He smirked, and Alhaitham’s jaw tightened. “She’s too busy working on her ‘mediocre distractions’ to bother showing up,” Alhaitham quipped dryly, a hint of annoyance bleeding into his voice.

He clearly didn’t like being put on the spot, and the casual insult about you grated on your nerves. Without thinking, you bit down on his thigh—just enough for him to feel it, just enough to remind him you were still there, listening.

He jolted, his leg twitching under your bite, a low gasp escaping his lips. The sudden rush of sensation caused his composure to falter, his fingers gripping the edge of the desk briefly. His sharp intake of breath made his pulse quicken, and you felt it through the taut muscles under your fingers.

Kaveh’s eyes narrowed, catching the subtle shift in Alhaitham’s expression. “Did you just hurt yourself sitting down? You’re not that old, are you?” Kaveh teased, eyes flicking from Alhaitham’s tightly clenched hands back to his face. “I... hit my knee,” Alhaitham muttered, the words forced, as if he were struggling to keep his voice steady.

“Waiting for you to leave is apparently hazardous to my health.” Kaveh scoffed, but his eyes twinkled with amusement. “It’s amazing you even have any patience left. Though, you really shouldn’t insult your assistant. From what I’ve seen, she does all the heavy lifting around here.” A wave of irritation surged through you, but your biting had only seemed to amuse Alhaitham more.

His thigh tensed beneath you as his fingers briefly brushed against the underside of the desk, almost as if warning you to stop. You could feel the heat pooling low in your belly, torn between the embarrassment of the situation and the thrill of knowing that Kaveh was completely oblivious to your presence, hidden between Alhaitham’s legs.

“You’ve got no room to talk, Kaveh,” Alhaitham retorted coolly, trying to regain his composure despite the lingering sensation of your teeth on his skin.

“How are your selfcations going? Found anyone to tolerate you for longer than five minutes yet?” Kaveh’s face twisted into a mock pout. “I won’t grace you with my presence for a week, so enjoy the silence. And don’t forget to water my plants while I’m away.”

As Kaveh turned to leave, his eyes lingering on the desk for a moment longer than comfortable, Alhaitham shifted in his seat, pulling his chair closer to ensure you stayed completely hidden. You were tucked tightly between his thighs, your lips so close to the heat of his growing arousal that you could almost feel it through his trousers. The tension was unbearable, your heart thundering in your chest as you struggled to stay still, your mind racing with the illicit nature of it all.

Kaveh finally let out an exaggerated sigh. “Well, I’ll leave you to your brooding. But don’t think you can insult your student without consequences. She’s probably the best thing you’ve got going for you.”

With a wave, Kaveh sauntered out of the room, the door clicking shut behind him.

Alhaitham exhaled heavily, his body relaxing only slightly. His hand fell to your head, fingers threading into your hair, gripping just tight enough to send a shiver down your spine. You looked up at him from your position between his thighs, your face flushed, breath coming in short, sharp bursts.

When he glanced down at you, there was no mischievous glint in his eyes—only something darker, more consuming. His gaze roamed over your swollen lips, the rise and fall of your chest, and the way you still knelt between his legs, completely at his mercy.

“And you,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, sending a shudder through you, “biting my thigh like that—what were you thinking?”

The look in his eyes was intense, magnetic, pulling you in. His fingers tightened their hold on your hair, tugging lightly as he leaned forward just enough that your breaths mingled, warm and shallow.

You swallowed hard, your voice barely above a whisper as you replied, “Maybe I wanted to see how you’d react.”

His lips quirked up, not in amusement, but in acknowledgment of the challenge. “Dangerous game, little one,” he whispered, his thumb brushing against the corner of your lip, smearing the remnants of your earlier kiss. 

Alhaitham leaned back in his chair, the creak of the leather barely audible over the heavy, charged silence in the room. The air felt thick with tension, your face now so close to his growing arousal that your breaths mingled with the scent of him. The heat radiating from him made your pulse quicken, and when his hand moved to his belt, your heart stuttered in your chest.

His hand was steady, the fingers long, elegant but strong, with a certain grace as they worked the leather through the buckle. The light from the overhead lamp cast shadows across the veins on the back of his hand, tracing the subtle ridges of muscle. The buckle clicked open, and his fingers deftly undid the button of his trousers, the fabric parting to reveal the dark material of his boxers beneath.

He was thick and large underneath the thin material, your eyes trailing from the tip and towards the end— where his heavy balls with with cum laid beneath the thin material that covered it.

He paused, his eyes dropping to meet yours. There was no hesitation in his movements, but his gaze—intense and searching—lingered on you, as though he were gauging your reaction, watching for the smallest flicker of apprehension. But your eyes, heavy with arousal, met his in silent understanding, the tension crackling between you like a live wire.

His voice was deep, low as he commanded, “Just your mouth.”

A spark of nervousness shot through you at his words, and before you could stop yourself, you whispered, “What if someone walks in?”

A quiet, almost condescending chuckle slipped from his lips as his fingers slid into your hair, gripping just firmly enough to send a shiver down your spine. “You seem to thrive on the thrill of it,” he murmured, his tone as sharp as ever but layered with something darker, something that made the ache between your thighs all the more unbearable. “Now use that smart mouth of yours efficiently.”

His words settled over you like a challenge, and despite the flush of nerves still heating your skin, you leaned forward. Your lips ghosted over the soft fabric of his boxers, a tentative kiss pressed to the tip of the hard cock beneath. You could feel the tension in his body, the way his muscles tensed under your touch, but his grip on your hair remained steady, guiding, controlling. His breath hitched as your lips moved lower, your mouth parting to mouth along the outline of him, and you could feel the power shift in the way his fingers flexed in your hair.

This was different from anything you'd ever experienced before. The intimacy of it, the raw tension—it was overwhelming, and yet, you found yourself craving more, your pulse pounding in your ears as the space between you dissolved into something electric.

The fabric of his boxers was soft against your lips, but beneath it, the hardness of his cock was undeniable, pulsing with heat. You could feel his body tensing with every kiss and suckle you placed along his length, teasing, testing. The scent of him filled your senses, heady and intoxicating, and the weight of his hand in your hair kept you grounded, pulling you deeper into the moment.

Alhaitham’s breath came out in a slow, controlled exhale, but there was a tension to it, a subtle hitch that betrayed his usually calm exterior. He leaned back further in his chair, his eyes dark and half-lidded as he watched you. His grip tightened, fingers threading deeper into your hair, guiding you, though not forcefully. It was a subtle command, the unspoken desire behind it clear as his thumb grazed along your scalp, sending shivers down your spine.

You pressed another kiss to his boxers, this time bolder, your lips lingering a little longer. The heat radiating from his skin was almost overwhelming, and you could feel your own pulse quicken in response. Your heart raced, your body humming with a mix of nerves and anticipation as you leaned closer, letting your breath warm the space just above the waistband.

"Good," he murmured, voice low, vibrating with something restrained. His other hand had moved to his side, resting casually on the arm of his chair, but his fingers twitched, betraying the tension running through him. "But don’t be afraid to commit. I didn’t peg you for someone who holds back."

Your breath hitched at the sharp edge to his words, his usual intelligence now infused with a sensuality that made your knees feel weak. You pressed your lips more firmly against him, the friction of the fabric between you and his skin making your core throb with desire.

Without a word, you let your hands move to his thighs, your fingers sinking into the fabric of his trousers. The texture was smooth, fine, yet beneath it, the hard muscle of his legs tensed under your touch. You couldn’t help but bite your lip, the sensation of his powerful body so close making your pulse race, your thoughts scatter.

Your lips brushed lower, tracing the waistband with delicate, feather-light kisses. You could feel him shift, his grip in your hair tightening slightly, his breath coming faster, though he tried to keep it controlled. The anticipation in the air between you both was almost suffocating.

You let your teeth sink into the waistband tugging at it lightly as Alhaitham lifts his hips to help you remove the material. His hard cock gently tapped agaisnt your cheek when you had pulled the boxers down, precum streaked your rose tinted cheek. 

Your eyes widen at the site of his cock that was mere inches away from your drooling mouth. The vein around his shaft throbbed in arousal, the pearly white liquid of his precum threatened to spill as his heavy balls pulsed with the need for your attention.

"Just like that," he whispered, the approval in his voice sending a wave of heat through you. His thumb grazed the nape of your neck, gentle but insistent, a subtle reminder of who held control, even as he unraveled beneath your touch.

You couldn’t believe this was happening, couldn’t believe that the man you had admired from a distance, the professor who had always seemed so untouchable, was now leaning back in his chair with his belt undone, his hand in your hair, letting you unravel him piece by piece. His dark eyes bore into yours, full of something that made your stomach flutter and your breath catch in your throat.

"Now," he said softly, his voice a low growl that sent shivers through your entire body, "let's see if you can use that mouth for more than just smart remarks." His fingers flexed in your hair, his gaze never leaving yours as he waited, tension coiling in the air between you both, thick and electric.

Your lips part, breath catching in your throat as you first press a gentle kiss on the rosy tip of his cock, your tongue peeked out from between your lips as you gave his slit a gentle kick, Alhaitham hissed at this fingers tighten around your hair, your eyes stare up at him with innocent as he groans.

You now decide to let your mouth to wrap around the mushroom tip, your tongue swirled around it, tasting the precum.

“fuck, your mouth’s so warm, bunny.” groaning so lowly, Alhaitham leaned his head back on the leather chair. caressing the top of your hair, strands in between his long digits, heavy breathing — and quiet whimpering. 

You decide to be bolder as you let the whole length slide into your mouth and down your throat, your eyes briming with tears as his cock twitched in your mouth as you tightened your lips around his length and pulled back up, licking the beautiful rosy tip, kitty-like, right on the line of it while you looked at his teal-eyes from under his desk. 

 You carefully moved to not let any of your saliva nor his pre-and-soon-cum spill on his pants as you take him once again, the weight of him pressing heavily against your cheek. He’s thicker, heavier than you imagined—far more than any of the toys you’ve ever used—and the heat radiating off him is intoxicating. For a brief moment, uncertainty flickers through you, but when his fingers tighten in your hair, drawing your attention back to him, that hesitation melts away.

The warmth of his skin seeps into your mouth as you stretch your lips around him, taking in as much as you can. The reality of him, so solid and present, fills your senses, overwhelming in the best way. He twitches against your tongue as you move, and the way he lets out a low, satisfied sigh makes something stir deep inside you. “That’s it… just like that,” he murmurs, voice thick and breathless, his fingers flexing in your hair as he gently guides your movements.

You can feel the tension in his thighs as you press your nails into them, steadying yourself, but also earning a sharp intake of breath from him. The sensation of your teeth lightly grazing him causes him to tense, his hips jerking slightly in response. You try to take him deeper, but there’s no way to fit all of him—he’s too much and he didn't want you to use your hands on his cock— just your mouth, you work him slowly, savoring every reaction he gives you, every rough inhale as his hips move in rhythm with your mouth.

His voice is a low rumble above you, his words like velvet. “You’re even better than I imagined…” he mutters, his gaze fixed on you, dark and intense. His eyes drink in every detail—your lips stretched around his cock, the soft flush spreading across your cheeks. “All those nights watching… and now I have you here, real, and mine.”

A shiver runs down your spine at his words, heat pooling in your stomach as you moan softly against him, the vibration pulling another low groan from his chest. His reaction is instant—his hips pressing forward as he sinks deeper into your mouth, his fingers tightening their hold. You can feel him twitching against your tongue, responding to every little movement, every swirl of your lips.

Then, without warning, you feel something press firmly against the apex of your thighs—on your clothed cunt. The tip of his shoe, pressing into you through your clothes, the pressure sudden and overwhelming. Your eyes widen, a gasp caught in your throat as pleasure jolts through you. The heat between your legs intensifies, and you instinctively grind against the pressure, trying to relieve the ache building inside you. It’s too much, too soon, and your mind spins from the intensity of it all.

His voice drips with control, low and commanding as his hips begin to move faster. “You like that, don’t you? The thrill of being caught… the thrill of being under me.” He’s watching you closely, every flicker of your eyes, every twitch of your body, his own arousal spiking at the sight of you on your knees, lips wrapped around him. 

Suddenly, his cock is deeply down your throat as you gag repeatedly. his fingers wrapped around your hair, holding it still while thrusting his hips up and beneath him, the ultimate choking mess, gasping for air, mumbling all sorts of pleading languidly — on the verge of tears and apparent faintness from the feeling of Alhaitham in your throat and the stimulation on your cunt.

 "keep still and let me cum in your mouth pretty mouth, my sweet bunny." Alhaitham grunted, his eyes taking in the site of you. 

Sweat beading up up along your forehead, your mouth shoved with his cock, your eyes blurring with tears, shirt hanging on your body exposing your bra, your fingers digging into his thighs and the site of you rutting your cunt against the sole of his shoe is what tips Alhaitham to the edge. 

His release is sudden, hot and thick, spilling into your mouth. You struggle to swallow it all, the salty taste flooding your senses, but you do your best, even as it becomes difficult to breathe. You can feel him throbbing in your mouth, your lips still wrapped around him as his hips stutter to a stop, his chest heaving above you. His cock still in your mouth as it slowly softens but not completely. Your tongue desperately lapping up at his tip and he hisses from the overstimulation.

Alhaitham looked down to stare at your disheveled self, reddish swollen lips, doe eyes, watery eyelashes and finally letting you breath, patting your head. a string of saliva — and semen — connecting your lips to his tip, as you still rutted agaisnt his shoe, your arousal evident as it slowly leaked from beneath your skirt and glistened alongside your thigh. 

When he finally pulls away, your mouth feels empty, your lips swollen and wet. You’re dazed, your heart still racing from the intensity of it all. His thumb brushes over your bottom lip, tracing the wetness there, his gaze dark and heavy as he takes in the sight of you—your face flushed, your chest rising and falling as you try to catch your breath.

“You did well,” he murmurs, his voice soft but full of satisfaction. The praise going straight to your cunt. 

 A small smirk plays at the corner of his mouth. “Better than I could have imagined. I’ve waited for this… and it was worth every second.”

As you catch your breath, his thumb lingers against your lip, pressing down gently as if to remind you of what just happened. You’re still trembling slightly, your legs weak beneath you, your body still buzzing with a mix of lingering pleasure and adrenaline. His gaze doesn’t leave yours, and when his hand falls from your lips, it moves to your hair, fingers threading through it, pulling you just a bit closer.

His leg, still pressed firmly against your sensitive core, shifts, sending another wave of heat rushing through you. But before you can fully register it, his hands slide down to your waist, gripping you tightly and pulling you up from your knees. Your body moves as if on instinct, and suddenly, you're on his lap, straddling him, your thighs bracketing his hips as he settles you against him as you felt his cock agaisnt your clothed pussy. 

The world around you feels like it’s spinning—his hands are warm and strong as they hold you, his touch both commanding and careful, guiding your every movement. Your breath hitches as you feel the firmness of his chest against yours, his shirt slightly rumpled from how hurried everything had been. His belt is still undone, pants half-open, and the closeness of your bodies ignites something deeper within you. The friction of his cock brushing against your clothed mound as he adjusts you sends sparks up your spine, causing you to let out a soft, involuntary gasp.

His hands splay across your lower back, holding you flush against him, and the warmth of his body sears through the thin layers of fabric between you. His gaze never leaves yours—those sharp, intelligent eyes darkened by desire, searching your face, watching your every reaction. His lips quirk slightly, the hint of a smirk on his face, but there’s something else in his expression now—something raw, almost hungry.

You can feel his breath on your lips, warm and teasing, as he leans in closer, his fingers trailing up your spine, settling just between your shoulder blades. His mouth hovers near yours, but he doesn’t kiss you—not yet. He’s waiting, drawing out the moment, letting the tension coil tighter between you. Your heart pounds in your chest, every beat echoing in your ears as the heat between your legs grows, your body responding to his closeness, his touch.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, his voice low and husky, sending shivers down your spine. His eyes flick down to your slightly parted lips, swollen from the earlier kiss, then back up to meet yours. “I knew you’d feel like this… but having you here, in my lap, like this… it’s better than anything I could have imagined.”

His words send a rush of warmth through your body, and you feel your breath catch in your throat. You’re acutely aware of the way his leg presses against you, the friction building with every slight shift of your hips. His hands, firm and confident, guide your movements as he leans back in his chair, settling you more comfortably against him. The pressure between your legs is almost unbearable now, and the way his body responds to yours—his growing arousal pressed against you—only heightens the sensation.

As your hips move slightly, the friction intensifies, and a soft moan escapes your lips before you can stop it. His gaze sharpens, his fingers tightening their grip on your waist as his cock presses up against you, sending another pulse of heat through your core. His smirk grows, eyes gleaming with that knowing look as his fingers trace slow, deliberate patterns along your back.

“You like that?” His voice is a soft tease, laced with amusement, but also something deeper, more commanding. “The way I touch you… the way your body reacts.” His lips brush against your ear, the heat of his breath sending chills across your skin. “You’ve wanted this for a while, haven’t you? To be here, with me.”

His words stir something within you, a mix of excitement and vulnerability. Your body answers before your mind does—your hips rolling instinctively against him, chasing that friction, that warmth. His hands guide you, controlling the pace, slow but deliberate, teasing you, making you want more.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, his voice dropping to a near whisper. His eyes flick down to your lips once more before he closes the distance, finally pressing his mouth to yours in a kiss that’s slow and deep. The kiss feels different this time—more deliberate, more consuming. His lips move against yours with a steady, confident rhythm, and you melt into him, letting the kiss drown out everything else.

The room around you seems to fade away—there’s only him, the heat of his body, the way his lips claim yours, and the delicious pressure of his cock gainst your most sensitive spot. Every nerve in your body feels like it’s on fire, your senses overwhelmed by the feel of him, the scent of him, the sound of his breath mingling with yours.

When he finally pulls back, his thumb brushes gently across your bottom lip, swollen and slick from the kiss. 

 The silence in the room was thick, a comfortable intimacy hanging in the air between you, making every heartbeat feel amplified. 

As you looked into his captivating light turquoise eyes, you didn't think before you let the words slip past your lips.

“Would you like to watch me stream in person?” 

[tayraedoll]

Mine for the Taking

Yandere Alastor in rut with innocent reader. Alastor is a manipulative shit and you are all too trusting. 18+ MDNI

Part 2

Word count: 3301

TW: Alastor is his own warning, breeding kink, creampie, scent marking, mating cycles, p in v intercourse, possessive Alastor, oral (fem receiving), blood, pregnancy trapping, manipulation, one swear word I think?

Alastor has a plan for you. You do not know it yet, but YOU. ARE.HIS.

You have been his ever since you stepped foot in the hotel all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. You were newly spawned in Hell, Charlie found you in an alleyway scared and all alone so she immediately gave you refuge at her hotel. And how could she not? You were so sweet and so vulnerable, a complete enigma in Hell. Charlie was certain you would be quick to redeem. Too bad Alastor will never let them happen.

He has been completely enraptured with you since your first meeting. For one, you were a little doe which was a rarity in Hell. But it was your aura of pure innocence that ultimately drew him in. There was no reason for someone like you to have ended up in Hell, you committed no sins in your life. For Alastor, that left just one explanation for your damnation- you were sent here to be his.

Alastor has been in hell for nearly a century; in that time he has acquired status, power, and wealth. For a time, these things were enough to make him happy. But as the years drew on, he started to become quite lonely though he would never admit it aloud. Loneliness was a weakness, he vowed to never feel such a pathetic emotion; but the loneliness crept up on him slowly until it infiltrated his mind every time he found himself without company. At first, he visited Rosie to quell the thirst for companionship and that worked for a while. But overtime even his best companion could not relieve the ache in his heart. The hotel residents did little to provide any solace for him, in fact he could barely stand being around most of them for long. Until you joined their ranks.

With you, Alastor was finally freed from the constant pang in his chest. You immediately accepted him as he was- never casting any judgement on his dark deeds despite what the other hotel residents told you. In fact, you never spoke ill of anyone. You were just too good for Hell, and he will do anything to protect that innocence.

Alastor started bonding with you over books, often catching you in the library. Soon, it became a routine to spend quiet evenings together discussing your favorite stories. That is where he learned of your passion for knowledge, so eager to learn everything you could about anything and everything. This was a quality he admired but also became troublesome for him. You were eager to learn about your deer form, wanting to know how the animal aspect of your being would affect you going forward. When he caught you looking for books on the subject he was immediately irritated that you would not just come to him for the answers you sought. So in retribution for your unwitting transgression he got rid of every book about all cervid forms in hell. He wanted all your knowledge about yourself to come from him, and there were certain parts he wanted to remain hidden.

The demon buck did not tell you about the mating season, did not explain that you would go into heat and he a rut. This gap in your knowledge was by his design. He wanted to ensure there was no way for you to prepare yourself for the season, he meticulously plotted to make you his and it would be tremendously less dramatic if you were unaware of the consequences of what that entailed.

Now, finally, the mating season was upon you both. Alastor could feel the early signs of his rut, made more obvious to him due to the presence of a doe he wished to court. He'd scoured several trees in his bayou, getting all the velvet off his antlers and marking his territory, and he was feeling more aggressive. Just the other day he nearly skewered Angel Dust on a tentacle for a crude remark made in your presence. But the most telltale sign of his upcoming rut was the constant need to be around you, to both protect you from potential threats and ensure that potential competition knew you were spoken for. The moment you showed signs of estrus he would put his plan into action.

Alastor made his way to the kitchen early in the morning to make breakfast for everyone. He had carefully put together a fat and carb-rich meal for you knowing that is what you will crave as your body prepares for breeding and pregnancy. He was just finishing buttering your toast when you entered the kitchen.

"Good morning Al!", you say in your cheery, upbeat tone.

"Good morning Darling! How are you on this lovely day?", he responds as he hands the plate over to you, looking you over as he does so for any sign of change in your usual demeanor.

"Doing well. Thank you for breakfast, I am starved this morning!", you reply as you eagerly dig into the food. 'An increased appetite is a good sign',he notes mentally.

"Ah! Always happy to provide My Dear! Do let me know if you require anything else." You spend the rest of breakfast making small talk until he has to start his duties as hotelier. Before he leaves, however, he orders his shadow to stay close to you and let him know what other changes are seen throughout the day.

The morning passed silently, but come afternoon, his shadow finally reported back to him. You were in the main living area participating in Charlie's trust exercises, but you were obviously distracted and restless. Your leg kept bouncing under you, your ears constantly swiveling around at the smallest sounds, and you were having a hard time paying attention to what the others were saying. You also frequently excused yourself to use the restroom and that got progressively worse throughout the day. Normally, you would join the others at the bar for a drink after the activities concluded, but today you excused yourself saying you wanted some alone time. Alastor jumped out of his seat- restlessness, isolation, and frequent urination were telltale signs of a doe in heat. You were ready, it was time to make his move.

The demon buck shadowed away to your room and used his mic to tap on the door. The moment you opened the door all his suspicions were confirmed. You smelled absolutely divine; honey-lemon and cedarwood invaded his nostrils and he flared them, taking a deep breath that caused the sweet scent to go straight to his cock as it twitched. He cared not for formalities or manners as he pushed passed you into your room. Scanning the area, he noticed that you had made a nest using blankets and pillows in the space between your bed and the wall; the final box ticked on the list of doe in estrus behaviors- bedding in unusual places.

"Can I help you Alastor? I'm sorry, I am not feeling well and I do not want to get you sick", you look up at him with your beautiful, large doe eyes.

"Yes, my dear, you can help me. In fact, you are the only one who can", he speaks slowly, setting his trap. You are a people-pleaser, always eager to help others out and putting your own needs on a backburner. How easy it is to use that delightful little quality against you.

"What is it Al? What do you need?" you plead, desperately wanting to help your friend.

Alastor paused for a bit, formulating the best way to pose his request as he slowly untied his bowtie to better let his pheromones invade your space. "Will you let me protect you Little One?"

"Huh?" you furrowed your brow in confusion, your body subconsciously leaning forward to get a better whiff of him.

The buck began to circle you slowly, starting with wide circles that gradually got smaller with each pass so he slowly go closer to you. "My sweet doe, that feeling you currently have- that hunger in your belly, that dizziness in your head- it's because you are in heat; just like all little does like you are this time of year. I did not tell you about it because I did not want to alarm you, I was not certain the extent of which you would be affected. But with your heat, you are extremely vulnerable. There are many brutish bucks out there who would just love to take advantage of you in this state", he stops in front of you and holds your cheek tenderly in one hand. Your heart is pounding, your large eyes fixed on him with a hint of fear in their depths as you lean into his gentle caress. "I would never forgive myself if something happened to you; you are much too precious to me and everyone else here. It would make me feel better if you would allow me to be your protector. I'd never let anyone harm you, I swear it." To drive his sentiment home his other hand came up to cup your other cheek as he leans his forehead against yours in a soothing and intimate display of affection.

His proximity and unexpected admission left you dizzy. He smelled so good, musky and savory like moss and spice, and you were starting to hope his hands would wander elsewhere on your body. You were suddenly surrounded by him and yet not consumed by him enough. "Yes, please be my protector Alastor. You are the only one I trust to keep me safe", you say as you raise your hands to his wrists and grasp them like a lifeline.

His smile widens, he has you exactly where he wants you. His victory is so close he can taste it. "Seal it with a deal Mon Cher, it is the best way. Through a soul bond I will always be able to find you, help you whenever you are in need." He stands up straight again and places a finger under your chin to lift your face to his. "I promise to take good care of it, to take good care of you." He extends his hand out slowly, as if moving too fast would frighten you away. You do not even hesitate, taking his hand immediately as if selling your soul was the easiest thing you would ever do.

"It's a deal." There is a brief flash of green, Alastor's smile is so wide it threatens to burst at the seams.

"Lovely!", the demon replies as he shadow portals you both to his own room. "Now, how about a drink to celebrate this new union?" He takes a bottle of red wine off a shelf at his desk and conjures two wine glasses. "I have been saving this little beauty for a special occasion. 1982 Chateau Lafite Rothschild Premier Cru Classe, one of the best from Bordeaux, France." He poured the wine out and handed you a glass. You thanked him and sipped it eagerly, it tasted like berries and currants and had a smoky, cigar smell. If Alastor were a wine, you were sure this would be it. You hummed in approval and drank your glass eagerly, completely unaware of the crimson irises that watched you intently.

You set your emptied glass on the table and studied the decor in the room, most notably the alligator skeleton hung on the wall. When you turn back around Alastor is right behind you; you gasp, not having heard him approach. His scent invades you senses again and heat starts to pool in your belly as your mind gets fuzzy. Before you even know what you are doing you have placed your hand on his chest, playing with his shirt buttons. He cups your cheek again, and leans in to capture your lips with his in a heated kiss.

The kiss is your undoing, as you wrap your arms around the much taller demons neck, letting out a lewd moan. You need more, you feel the need to be absolutely devoured by him. He runs his hands down your back, over the swell of your ass, and along the backs of your thighs where he hooks them over his hips. You clasp your ankles together around him as he carries you over to the bed.

He deposits you gently on the mattress and follows you down, keeping his weight on his forearms on either side of you. Alastor breaks the kiss to begin trailing his lips down your throat, burying his nose and inhaling deeply at the sensitive patch of skin right below your ear. A deep growl rips up from his chest that makes you shudder underneath him, goosebumps raising all along your skin.

Propping himself up on one arm, he trails his free hand down your body, cupping your breast through your shirt momentarily before moving his hand beneath your shirt. He gently tickles the soft, sensitive skin of your belly with his claws before grasping your fleshly mounds again, earning himself a whine from you as you begin to grind your hips up into him.

Unsatisfied with the lack of skin contact, he uses his claws to slice straight through your shirt and bra in one motion before snapping his own jacket and shirt away. You take a moment to admire the little tuft of fur on his chest, running your fingers through its silken layers before he leans down and captures one nipple in his mouth. You whine and squeeze his head in your arms, his fingers tweaking the other nipple. "Such a pretty little doe, behaving so well for me. Tell me, Mon Cher, what is it that you want?"

"I want you to touch me please", you whine desperately, face heating up slightly.

Alastor chuckles,"I am touching you! Is this all you want?" He rubs his thumbs over your nipples in slow, deliberate circles. You can feel the sensation down in your core.

"No, I want you to touch me...lower", you are gasping by this point, face red with embarrassment.

"Use your words Mon Cher, where exactly do you want me to touch you?", he teasingly runs a finger down your abdomen, stopping at the waistband on your sweatpants.

"I...I want you to touch my clit, and stick your fingers inside my pussy!", you spit out as fast as you can and hide your face behind your arms.

"My my Mon Cher! How delightfully vulgar! Such a good girl, and good girls get exactly what they want." He moves your arms from your face. "Eyes on me darling, do not look away. Think you can handle that?"

You nod and rest your hands above your head as Alastor swiftly removes your pants and panties in one swipe. You fight the urge to cross your legs, as if hearing your thoughts Alastor wraps his arms around your thighs and pins them to the bed with your already dripping cunt bared to him. Your face heats up as you watch him stare at your core for a moment before he plants sloppy, wet kisses up your inner thigh. Without warning he bites down on the sensitive flesh, eliciting a scream from you as you clench your eyes shut from the potent pain and pleasure cocktail.

Alastor immediately lets go of your thigh and growls out "Open your eyes!" With a bit of effort, you manage to open your eyes again and lock onto his wild, carmine gaze. Satisfied with your compliance, he gently laps at the wound to soothe it and clean up the droplets of blood that pooled there before dragging his tongue north where you wanted him. Your heart was beating so erratically you thought you were having a heart attack.

You squeal the second his tongue connects with your puffy clit, your legs trying to clamp shut but being unable to move due to Alastor's weight on your thighs. You do not dare look away from the man, afraid of what he would do should you earn his ire. He eats you out like it is his last meal, alternating between circling and sucking your clit before plunging his long, hot tongue into your depths. You tremble within his arms, the coil in your belly tightening faster than you ever thought possible. Your enhanced senses pick up every lewd, wet sound, the smell of your own arousal, and the site of his tongue disappearing into your folds. It was all too much, the coil snapped with a force that made your body fold at the waist as your shoulders shot off the mattress; your throat let out a strangled scream of his name.

The demon buck does not give you a second to recover as he climbs back over you, pushing you back into the mattress. His lips claim yours, making you taste your own bodily nectar as he unbuckles his belt and removes his trousers. Before you even realize that he was aligned with your entrance he was pushing into you earning another gasp from your lips that he greedily swallows. He gives you minimal time to adjust before he grunts and begins thrusting into you at a punishing pace. He pulls away from your lips to rub his cheeks along yours, the sensation making you melt into the mattress as his pheromones overtake your mind.

"Tell me you're mine. Whose doe are you?! Tell me!!", he snarls into your ear.

"Yours, I'm all yours Alastor. I'll only ever belong to you!", you cry out as tears begin streaming down your face. Your admission earns you his fingers playing with your clit again, sending you hurtling towards the edge again.

"Look at you, so perfect on my cock. I am going to claim this pussy in every way possible. Your womb is mine to fill with MY seed. You will make the perfect mother to my fawns." His pace turns sloppy as you clench hard around his shaft, your mind too fucked out to comprehend his words as you moan underneath him. Your nails rake down his back, raising angry lines along the contours of his musculature. His thumb presses hard into your clit, riding the edge between pleasure and pain. By this point your whole body was vibrating, every nerve ending lit up in white hot pleasure. "Cum for me Mon Cher. Cum for me and take my seed and don't you dare waste a drop!"

His words were your undoing, like the obedient little doe you were you came hard around him. With one final, powerful thrust he painted your walls white with his spend; your cunt avariciously drank his seed up.

Alastor collapsed on top of you, not daring to pull out yet. He meant it when he said not to waste a drop of his spend. He peppered tender kisses along your face and forehead as you started drifting off, utterly exhausted and fully sated.

As you fell into unconsciousness, Alastor lifted your hips and placed a pillow under them to prevent gravity from pulling his seed from your womb. Once he was satisfied with the angle he finally pulled out. He gave you one, final kiss on your forehead whispering "Mon Cher, sweet mama to my future fawns, I will never allow us to be parted." He nestled in next to you, placing a protective hand over your womb.

There was one detail you were wholly unaware of. Unbeknownst to you, the wine Alastor shared with you was laced with a potion; the same exact potion that allowed Lilith- a human sinner- to conceive Charlie.

Alastor was not a praying man, but that night he called on all the powers that be for his seed to take hold in your freshly fertile womb.

@stattikdemon

Thanks for being patient with me on this one!

[simjaexy]

𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙔𝙤𝙪 | 𝙋.𝙎.

Pairing ⇀ Popular Boy! Park Sunghoon x Fem! Reader

Synopsis ⇀ Sunghoon is the enigmatic and talented ice hockey player, captivating everyone with his skill on the ice and his mysterious aura off it. He's the guy who doesn't say much but leaves a lasting impression. Sunghoon's dedication to his sport and his quiet confidence make him a true heartthrob, unfortunately he just can’t get your attention.

Genre ⇀ Smut

Warnings ⇀ MINORS DNI!!, Sunghoon is toxic (so is Jake a little), Making Out, Cum Eating, Hair Pulling, Mean Dom! Sunghoon x Sub! Reader, Pain Kink, Semi Public Sex, Unprotected Sex, Multiple Orgasms

A/n ⇀ This is part 2 of the Wanting You Series.

Read Jongseong here.

Sunghoon was known for his icy demeanor and striking looks. He wasn't the type to show his emotions easily, and that made him even more intriguing. His friends often joked about his ability to make anyone fall for him without even trying.

But when one of them decided to make a challenge on who could pull you, Sunghoon didn’t even try hiding his smirk. He accepted the challenge, though he viewed it as just another game.

When Sunghoon heard about the challenge the first thing he did was ignore you. Not because he didn’t like you, but because he knew his friend, Jake was gonna have you first.

He knew Jake always loved being first in things, so it wasn’t a surprise when a few days later Jake said that Sunghoon can go for you.

“She’s pretty chill so I wouldn’t worry much.” Jake said.

Sunghoon grinned at him, “So why’d you take so long to get her?”

“Because she’s the kind that likes to play hard to get. Nothing too big though.” He replied.

Unfortunately for Sunghoon, you seem like you weren’t interested in him.

Students whispered and giggled as Sunghoon walked past them, unfazed that they’re talking about him.

It’s not the first time he’s got this attention, and it won’t be the last either. But when he walked past you, you didn’t even acknowledge him and just shut your locker and head the other way.

Sunghoon didn’t show and expression though. He just simply continued walking to his next class, he wasn’t gonna stop and beg.

If there was one thing Sunghoon hated about this class, is that there was always that one teacher that pissed him off.

He listens to his teacher talking his brains off about something he did over break, but why the hell would he care?

Sunghoon sighed and looked out the window. The view wasn’t all that either. He looked to his side and noticed a specific person walking past his classroom.

Immediately, he raised his hand, “I need to go to the bathroom.”

Before the teacher could respond he quickly left the class. He was not trying to hear his teacher give him a lecture.

He scanned the hallways, but didn’t see any signs of you, that was until he heard a voice and saw you coming out the library.

You had two of the same books in your hand which left him confused, but didn’t ponder much.

Now that he thought about it, Jake’s been getting into books again. He rolled his eyes, thinking that Jake was still trying to keep you on hold while he tries to get you.

He knew Jake was a sucker for romance m, though he didn’t know he’d fall this fast. Sunghoon ignored his thoughts and went up to you shamelessly.

You bumped into him without seeing him and stared up, “O-Oh sorry.”

He looked down at you, “It’s fine. Have you seen Jake, he was with you the last time I seen him.”

He lied about the wanting to see Jake. He saw him not even that long ago but who cares. He has to get your attention somehow.

He did see you two together at one point today even though he wasn’t supposed to interrupt Sunghoons turn, but Sunghoon let it slide.

“Uh I think he went to a soccer game, they got called out early in the speaker.” You replied.

Sunghoon hummed and thanked you, walking away without a thought. You watched as he disappeared from your sight.

You and Jake haven’t been really talking as much since the incident in the library, sometimes he’ll just plain out ignore you when you tried talking to him in the halls, but texts you apologizing that he didn’t see you.

You’d sigh and would leave a message saying it’s fine. You’d still give him a book though, at least it’s one way to keep in touch.

He’d grab it in a secluded hallway and thanked you, kissing your forehead. He wouldn’t kiss you though, but you thought he just didn’t feel like it.

The next day Sunghoon got up extra early. Jake told him that you were going to the library so he decided to head there too. He already had a plan fixed.

He has to talk about something that’ll keep you interested, and he doesn’t think Jake won’t be offended if he used him as bait. The plan was quite simple.

He would talk about Jake and how he’s been ignoring you since Jake said it was for Sunghoon to get his game up.

You’d feel sad and disappointed and that’s when Sunghoon will come into view. His plan was simple and yet perfect.

As he made it to the library, he noticed that there barely anyone there. The librarians working on books while some students were reading or doing homework.

He averted his gaze to a specific hair color and walked his way towards you. You looked engrossed in a book. He approached you, his cold aura unmistakable, "Is this seat taken?" he asked, his voice smooth but distant.

You glanced up, slightly taken aback by his sudden presence, and shook your head. He sat down, barely sparing you a glance as he pulled out his own book.

The silence between you was palpable, but there was something about his aloofness that piqued your curiosity.

You wondered why he randomly wanted to sit with you. Maybe it was because you were talking to Jake?

It was silent for quite some time, the only thing heard were the sound of Sunghoon flipping pages of his book. You didn’t know he was interested in books.

“Is there something on my face?” He suddenly asked.

You felt your cheeks heat up and quickly turned back to your book, “S-Sorry.” You stuttered.

Sunghoon suddenly closed his book and stared at you, “Have you’ve been talking to Jake?”

You looked up from your book surprised. You didn’t know if he knew that Jake was ignoring you, “Not really, no. He’s been busy with practice I guess.”

Sunghoon hummed and leaned on his hand, “He doesn’t have practice on the weekends.” He spoke. Your eyes widened.

But he told you he had practice everyday? You felt your chest sting and took a deep breath, “He told me he did?”

“He doesn’t.”

The way Sunghoon cold honestly somewhat made you snap into reality. Jake lied to you. He always cancelled your plans on the weekends saying he had practice.

Sunghoon continued staring at you. He couldn’t help but feel satisfied with the way you looked.

Brows furrowed, lips parting, concentrated in thought. He definitely hit you where it hurts, “Jake has always been like that with girls. Lying to their faces. It’s in his nature.” Sunghoon chuckled.

But you just stayed silent. You slowly closed your book, “I-I think I should get going.” You muttered. Sunghoon doesn’t stop you when you rushed out the library.

Instead he yawned, closed his book, and headed out the library too. Plan a worked perfectly. Now all he has to do is put on his comforting character and care for you.

Class was just as boring as he remembered. Currently he had his head down, it was break and students were talking to each other. Sunghoon didn’t really have friends in that class.

He just talks to whoever comes up to him. Aside from girls, he ignored them or just give out short answers.

While feeling in the verge of falling asleep, he heard a group of girls speaking, “Yeah it’s tonight so I went to buy a cute dress yesterday!” A girl voice squeaked.

He then heard another girl talk, “You think Sunghoon and his friends will go?” A girl muttered, but Sunghoon heard loud and clear.

They began whispering while it suddenly clicked in Sunghoon mind. Today was the gathering of students good attendance.

Sunghoon and his friends did have good attendance, but never went to those. It was cringey and not worth their time from practice.

He then had an idea. You must be going to it, he knows you had good attendance, he won’t lie and say he doesn’t pay attention to you everyday entering your classes while he talked to his friends.

He lifted his head up and looked at the group of girls, “When does that start?” He asked them. They gasped as two of them squealed that the Park Sunghoon was talking to them.

“O-Oh uh it starts at s-six thirty!” One of them squeaked. Sunghoon got up and left the classroom as soon as the bell rang, not even thanking them.

He guessed he could skip practice if that means you’ll go.

He found out you were attending a small gathering and made sure to be there. He dressed up a bit formal and had his hair gelled. There’s no way you won’t fall for his looks.

As the night went on, you found yourself alone on the balcony, enjoying the cool breeze.

Suddenly, Sunghoon appeared beside you, his expression as unreadable as ever. "You look like you could use some company," he said, his voice low.

You were surprised by his sudden approach but nodded, feeling a strange comfort in his presence.

“It was too loud.” You said.

“Hate loud crowds?” He asked. You nodded and stared down.

“There aren’t really my thing.”

“I don’t like loud crowds either.” He admitted. You gave him a smile, but he didn’t really smile back.

As the conversation flowed, you realized that beneath his cold exterior, there was a depth to Sunghoon that was intriguing.

He spoke about his passions, his dreams, and his fears, all while maintaining that distant aura. It was as if he was letting you in, but only just enough to keep you wanting more.

You suddenly thought about Jake, the only thing you knew about him was that he’s talkative and likes to play soccer, and not to mention he’s pretty good at sex.

Your mind suddenly drift to Sunghoon, with his cold personality, you had a feeling that he was still good in bed. His strong biceps could practically choke you while he fucks you from behind.

Your eyes went wide. Why the hell were you thinking about that? You’re talking to Jake. You gulped hard and bashfully looked away.

Sunghoon suddenly noticed the shift of the air and smirked. You’re finally falling for his schemes.

“S-So Jake didn’t come?” You questioned. Sunghoon shook his head.

“None of us go to these gatherings.”

“So why’d you come?” You curiously replied. Sunghoon stared at you with an unreadable expression.

“Didn’t feel like a bad idea to see you.” He said. You felt your heart beating fast. Why were you feeling like this?

Maybe it was because Jake left you hanging these past few weeks that you forgot what it was like to have attention.

“Why’d you want to see me?” You mumbled. Sunghoon smirked and went next to your ear.

“I thought your dress would look good on you. Turns out I was right.”

You felt yourself gasp and stared up at him. He slowly cupped your face and stepped closer, “I know Jake hasn’t been giving you the attention you deserve. So use me while you can.” He whispered.

His breath hitting your lips. You didn’t know what to do. You knew that if you did something right here you’ll regret. But the way Sunghoon pulled you closer made you have other thought.

And just like that your lips connected. The kiss was slow and sensual, feeling every part of his lips. You sighed and wrapped your arms around his neck.

Sunghoon knew he shouldn’t be doing this, the challenge was just to make you like them, not giving you a satisfaction, but the way you looked so helpless to him made him want to ruin you in other ways.

He gripped your neck and entered his tongue in your mouth. You let him in so easily. He gripped your waist with his other hand.

You felt yourself getting dizzy just from kissing him. Your thoughts on Jake long forgotten with the way Sunghoon pushed you against the railing.

You suddenly remembered you were in a public area and broke the kiss, saliva connecting your lips.

“W-We shouldn’t do this. Jake-“

“I don’t care about Jake. He doesn’t give you the satisfaction you need.” He said. You felt yourself lowering your head.

Sunghoon lifted your head up with his finger under your chin, “You deserve someone who’ll treat you right. So what are you waiting for? I’m right here.”

And that was all he needed to say for you to kiss his lips again. You moaned when he put his hand under your dress and rubbed your cloth core.

He grinned, feeling your wetness damp your underwear, “Already so wet? You’re a curious one.”

You whined when he pulled away and dragged you back inside. You didn’t know where you two were going, but you were excited to say the least.

You both entered the family restroom as Sunghoon locked the door. He turned back around and kissed you again.

He picked you up and settled you on the sink. He pulled your dress over your body. He began trailing kisses down your body causing you to sigh.

He moved your underwear to the side and prodded at your hole, but stopped when he realized something, “Did Jake fuck you already?”

You stared at him dazed, but slowly nodded your head, “A while back.”

Sunghoon fucking knew it. He knew Jake fucked you the minute he saw Jake the next day. His ego was high that day. But Sunghoon knows how to ruin it.

“I’ll show you what a real fuck is.” He commented. Before you could say anything he entered not one, not two, but three fingers in your hole causing you to scream.

You felt your hole burning, but you were so wet that you couldn’t help but grind down on his fingers.

He began fingering you at an animalistic pace making your eyes roll back in pain and pleasure.

“You love that fucking pain don’t you slut?” He groaned. You frantically nodded your head, feeling your orgasm coming.

“A-Agh, I’m cumming, oh god-“ He cut you off kissing you and that’s when you felt your orgasm crashing.

Your legs shook in pleasure when he slowly grinded his fingers in you. He took them up and faced them towards you, “Suck.”

You sucked on his fingers, tasting your sweet cum on them, it made you feel wet again. He took his fingers out and harshly kissed you, biting your lip making you cry out.

He suddenly flipped you over, your pussy on full view for him, he cursed when he took out his hard dick, stroking it a few times before slowly entering.

You sighed feeling him fill you up. You began grinding back, missing what it was like to have a dick in you. Sunghoon let you grind back in him.

He knew that Jake wasn’t gonna satisfy you like this. He gripped your waist and started moving. You felt your eyes roll back, feeling him fill you up with his long dick.

He gripped your hair and pulled your head back, groaning feeling you clench on to him. You whined when he grind his dick in you slowly before going fast again.

He stared down seeing your ass jiggle when he made contact with your pussy. He felt himself getting hard even more if that was even possible.

You were a moaning mess, tears running down your eyes, face flushed in embarrassment and pleasure. Sunghoon wanted to fucking ruin you.

He felt a pang of jealousy that Jake fucked you before. If anything he should’ve been first to fuck you. But he thought it was okay, cause you’ll remember his dick whenever you fuck someone else.

You felt your orgasm coming again and lowered your head, “I-I’m gonna cum S-Sunghoon.” You whined. He smirked and kissed your back neck.

“Cum on this dick slut.” He whispered. That was all it took as you squeezed tight around him, you orgasms making squelching sounds as he continued pounding into you.

You felt overstimulated as he moaned and didn’t stop his pace, “Fuck I’m gonna cum.” Was all he said and took his dick out, stroking it on your back, spurts of cum landing on you ass and back.

As much as he wanted to cum inside, he didn’t want a risk to get you pregnant, but he won’t lie and say you guys wouldn’t have beautiful kids.

You panted hard while Sunghoon breathed deeply behind you. He grabbed paper towels and wiped your back and ass.

“You okay?” He asked. You nodded your head and smiled sweetly at him. He felt his heart pang against his chest. You looked beautiful ruined.

“I’m perfect.” You replied. You got up and made a quiet noise, feeling your legs wobble. Sunghoon chuckled.

“I’ll take you home. Think you could walk?”

You nodded your head and out your dress back on, you fixed your face a little so it didn’t look like you just got fucked from behind (which clearly you did).

You both exited the bathroom and head to Sunghoons car. Driving as the sun slowly began setting down.

You felt at calm with Sunghoon hand on your thigh, occasionally rubbing it, soothing you. You felt your eyes getting droopy and soon enough you were asleep.

Sunghoon noticed and for the first time, he smiled softly. He knew he shouldn’t feel this way towards you, unfortunately he can’t help but feel his heart swell with warmth.

He looked back to the front. He’ll just have to see what his other friends will do to make you like them. For now though, he’ll enjoy what he has.

[story-box]

STATIC ON THE LINE

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader | Eddie Munson x Y/N

Summary: Eddie ghosted you to “set you free”—so you came home to ruin his pity party and remind him you're nobody's damsel.

—

You should have set his trailer on fire.

Okay, maybe not literally — arson was still technically illegal — but metaphorically?

Oh, absolutely.

Because if Eddie Munson thought he could ghost you like some coward in a metal band who suddenly decided he was too emotionally fragile to answer a letter, then he clearly forgot who he was dating.

You had written twenty-one letters. Twenty-one. Plus, three postcards you thought were charming and a freaking cassette mix you made with actual effort and very questionable transitions. ("Careless Whisper" into Black Sabbath — sue you, you were emotional.)

And what did you get in return?

Silence.

Avoidance.

The occasional 'your letter was received' from Wayne when you called the Munson trailer, followed by an uncomfortable pause like the old man wanted to say more but wouldn’t.

You had tried to be patient. Really. You reminded yourself that Eddie wasn’t exactly known for healthy coping mechanisms.

But there’s only so much you can take before you start imagining exactly how hard youmee going to throw that shoebox full of unsent letters at his stupid, beautiful, stubborn head.

Because here’s the thing: You didn’t fall in love with him because he had perfect grades or a five-year plan. You fell in love with the idiot who played Dio songs like they were sacred texts, who gave voices to dungeon monsters and talked about fate like it was something he could fight.

And now? Now he was playing tragic martyr like it was some noble sacrifice.

You stared at your phone, hanging up on the wall. Again. Like it might magically spring to life with his voice on the other end.

It didn’t.

Instead, you whispered to no one, "If you think you're protecting me, Eddie Munson, you're dumber than that time you tried to climb my dorm window and got stuck halfway like a stray cat."

Maybe it was time to come home for a weekend.

And maybe it was time to make some noise…

. . .

The trailer looks smaller than you remember. Maybe it’s the winter light — flat and grey, like everything’s been dulled down without you here. Or maybe it’s just Eddie.

Because he’s standing in the doorway, sleep-creased and shoeless, hair a mess, looking like regret and cheap weed had a baby and named it "avoidant behavior."

You cross your arms and lean against your car, giving him the kind of look that says: Go ahead. Explain yourself. I’ll wait. Probably won’t believe you, but I’ll wait.

He blinks like he thinks you’re a hallucination. Which, fair. You did show up unannounced, in your Friday jeans and a pissed-off aura that could probably kill a small god.

“Holy shit,” he says.

“That’s all you’ve got?” you ask. “‘Holy shit’? After ignoring me for three months?”

He rubs the back of his neck. Classic. You’d almost missed that stupid nervous tic.

Almost.

“I thought you were… I don’t know. Gone.”

You laugh — sharp, not sweet. “Yeah. That tends to happen when someone stops answering your letters, calls, telepathic pleas—should I go on?”

His mouth opens like he wants to defend himself. Then closes again, like he realizes there is no defense. And honestly? Good. Let him stew. Let him feel the way your chest has felt every time you checked the mailbox and found nothing but silence.

“I didn’t know what to say,” he finally mutters.

You throw your hands up. “Try anything. ‘Hey, I suck at feelings, give me a minute’? ‘Sorry I’m an emotionally constipated disaster’? Even a postcard that just says ‘still alive’ would’ve been better than radio silence.”

He flinches. You almost feel bad.

Almost.

But then he says, voice low and stupidly sincere, “I thought if I let you go, you’d move on. Meet someone better. Someone who doesn’t live in a trailer and get held back and—”

“Oh my god, shut up,” you groan. “You don’t get to martyr yourself and act like you’re doing me a favor. I’m not some romcom character who blossoms without the sad boy weighing her down. I chose you, you idiot.”

He stares at you, like maybe he didn’t quite believe it until you said it out loud. Like he’s terrified hope might be real.

You step closer. Close enough that he can see the tear line in your eyeliner and the months of unsent anger burning just behind your eyes.

“If you ever ghost me again,” you whisper, “I will break into your room, steal your favorite guitar, and replace all your good vinyls with Barry Manilow."

He chokes on a laugh.

You almost kiss him right then. Almost. But he has to earn that.

So instead, you say, “Now let me in before I freeze out here. We’re not done talking.”

[wemalyri]

what are enhypen members like in a relationship? sunghoon ver.

pairing: idols!enhypen × fem!reader

w/c: 1,6k

warnings: relationship development, kisses, physical touch, smut under cut

a/n: sunghoon is the most difficult enhypen member for me to understand. I hope this one is good. if you liked it, likes and reposts are welcomed. also let me know which member I should do next!!

heeseung jay jake sunghoon sunoo jungwon niki

the first meeting

Just as Heeseung, he’s the type who wouldn’t talk a lot when he meets you. Sunghoon prefers to watch you from a distance and awkwardly nod when you ask him something or interact with him. I feel like Sunghoon would try to make a joke (not the funniest one) but when he sees your smile it would make his stomach flip. This is how he gets into you. You’re the one who finds him really funny and he truly appreciates it. I feel like Sunghoon would also flutter when he finds out you make the same jokes as him. He would laugh at them, trying to hide his smile with a palm, looking away.

Your special aura would stay in his mind for a while. It wouldn’t be something serious, more like a warm feeling from meeting an old friend. But exactly this would make Sunghoon less awkward next time he sees you. I feel like he would greet you with a known smile, shaking his hand in the air. As he’s given the same genuine reaction from you, his warm feeling to you blossoms more.

friendship

You two becoming friends is the most natural and right thing in this world. For everyone. You two match each other’s vibes so well it would be surprising otherwise. Your relationship would develop slowly without unnecessary words or bursts of emotions. The feeling that you have known each other for a long time would rapidly carry you to each other, making you spend time together more and more. You would discuss the books you have read (I remember the stack of Sunghoon’s books on his bedside table in the room), talk about style, fashion, what is the best placement of things in the closet. You would find each other’s lifestyles similar. Sunghoon would sometimes complain about the mess that members make.

Slowly feelings that both of you considered as platonic would develop into something more. It would start with greeting hugs. First of all , Sunghoon is not a physically affectionate person, so the fact that you two start to interact physically means he starts trusting you more. But greeting hugs would become longer than they have to be… One time Sunghoon wouldn’t be able to control himself and would place his hand on your head softly, while your face is tugged into his chest. Such gentleness from him would make your heart skip a beat. Inhaling your scent, Sunghoon starts thinking that you might be not just a friend.

his confession

As he realizes he has fallen deeper than he thought, the idea of confession couldn’t leave him even for a second. Sunghoon wants to know if you feel the same, if you are on the same page.

I feel like he would confess somewhere quiet but atmospheric. Sunghoon would become romantic and rent a table on the balcony of the restaurant. 

The sun is setting and he looks at you, admiring your features and lips that curved into a smile. The most genuine words letting out from his mouth. “At the last time, I feel like you’re more than a friend to me. I’m really comfortable with you, the way I’m not comfortable with anyone. I thought you were like an old friend to me but now… I think you’re more than that. I want to be special to you, just the way you’re special to me.” His breath slightly hitched from nervousness, eyes looking down. When he lifts his gaze and sees your smile, everything is clear as the sun that is still sparkling in your eyes. You nod with a smile, “I understand you. I feel the same” HIs face lights up immediately and he chuckles. “I hoped so.”

relationship

He’s a romantic type of guy, who always tries to make you laugh. In the very beginning Sunghoon might be awkward sometimes, but it quickly vanishes away. He would take you to different beautiful places with a good view just to share them with you. He would buy you flowers, handing them to you with a shy smile. I feel like physically he would touch you a lot in a casual way. Placing his hand on your back, when you approach him, hand on your head, when you hug him, holding your wrist, when you look him into eyes, telling about something. Sunghoon is the type of guy to admire you and lose in his thoughts a lot. You might think he doesn’t listen to you, staring at your face but trust me he just can’t take his eyes off you. 

I feel like Sunghoon would love you to meet members but would regret this idea immediately after he sees how close they get to you. 

He doesn’t do anything about it at first, just bites the inner side of his cheek, staring at you and Sunoo cutely interacting. After a while when he thinks it’s a bit too much for him to handle, he approaches you, placing his hand on your back.  “Actually, we have to go,” Sunghoon says, making up the most illogical excuse.  You stare at him, not understanding what’s happening, and he just tries to talk with you without words, looking at you and then at the entrance, wanting to go already.

first kiss

The type of guy to kiss your head before anything more to test the waters and watch your reaction. Your eyes widen, looking at him in surprise. As your cheeks roses, Sunghoon looks away, chuckling in sudden shyness. As he changes the topic, his head is already working, thinking about when to kiss your lips.

Metro station at night. Yes, that one from XO m/v. Almost no one here and you two are waiting for your train. Your eyes met, not able to break away from each other. As Sunghoon leans closer to you, his mouth whispers, “Can I?” As you slowly nod, not breaking eye contact, he leans even closer, his lips gently pressing to yours. His hand holds your back when the other one brushes your hair from your face away. As Sunghoon pulls away, he looks into your eyes and smiles, kissing your forehead with affection.

18+ UNDER CUT

first time

The gentle and slow type. Sunghoon loves to be in control because only then he knows what he’s doing. He would never rush with you, letting himself enjoy the moment fully. 

I feel like Sunghoon would be the type who prepares everything beforehand. Like he would know that today something’s going to happen so he cleans everything in his room, changes sheets and prepares candles to create atmosphere. He would definitely buy condoms because he cares about protection and safety. 

He wouldn’t watch anything but maybe he would ask one of the members who is more experienced than him (Heeseung?). I think Sunghoon would try not to think about it too much so as not to worry.

When it finally happens he slowly kisses you, savoring the moment. His hand holds the back of your head as he gently lays you down on the bed, watching into your eyes. Stopping for a moment he asks permission for going any further without words, just by looking at you. When you smile and nod he answers with the same look on his face and his lips move lower, tracing lines under your jaw.

Sunghoon is not really a talker but he would give you a few compliments as your pieces of clothes are slowly removed one by one.

“You’re so pretty…” he whispers while checking you out. Your shirt is pulled up, exposing your breasts covered in bra. As his words make you flustered, the blush on your cheeks is blooming. Seeing this, Sunghoon leans closer to kiss your face. “You’re my favorite view,” his words leaving his mouth.

Going further, your movements pick up the pace, kisses becoming passionate and hungry. Sunghoon would let out groans and gaspes as his hips presses to yours. He would try to control himself but it wouldn’t last long. He would be the one who worships your body, kissing your skin not missing a single spot. Sunghoon would let you run your fingers into his hair as a sign of trust. He would touch you, immediately asking if you like that.

As his fingers slide inside you, his thumb starts caressing your clit. Sunghoon looks at you, searching for a sign of approval. “Do you like that?” he enquires, examining your face. “Yes… Don’t stop.” you sigh and Sunghoon immediately starts moving his fingers faster.

Sunghoon is not going to cum before you. Only when he knows that you’re done he lets himself relax and reach the edge of pleasure. 

He’s an aftercare guy. He would clean everything. Bed, you, himself. A used condom should immediately end up in the trash, dirty sheets in the laundry basket. He might want to take a shower with you (not in a sexual way but to help you clean yourself).

+ bonus

When you get used to each other, he continues to follow his habits. He always cleans up everything after himself, helps you with this. Sunghoon wants you both to feel comfortable both during and after sex.

However, you will sometimes help him deviate from the established rules and routines to which he is accustomed. During sex with you, he will learn to really relax and enjoy the moment.

[ninibeingdelulu]

A sweet future ✧

Plot: You share a romantic moment with your boyfriend.

The soft strains of jazz misted through the living room like a hushed reverie as you laxly awaited your boyfriend's return.

With Emi - the impossibly huge yet sweet-natured kaiju you'd taken under your wings - finally settled down for the night in her reinforced basement enclosure, you eagerly anticipated reuniting with Kenji again alone.

These quiet reprieves had proven increasingly scarce over the harried past few weeks since welcoming the orphaned, radioactive creature into your lives.

Between your demanding day jobs and the round-the-clock regimen of feeding, cleaning up after, and just generally caring for your colossal new "baby," alone time had dwindled to precious few stolen moments like these.

You perked up instantly at the telltale thud of Kenji's footfalls padding up the stairwell, a contented smile brightening your features at his familiar silhouette emerging from the shadows.

Without hesitation, he crossed the distance separating you in a few easy strides - his arms encircling your smaller frame in a snug, demonstrative embrace.

"Hey..."

Kenji exhaled the hushed greeting against the juncture of your neck and shoulder, his solid warmth enveloping you like a calming salve after the chaos of recent days.

Instinctively nuzzling into the comforting expanse of his chest, you wound your own arms around his waist to tether him even closer.

"These last few weeks..." His lush baritone reverberated through your skin, laden with a weary sort of fondness.

"I feel like we haven't had any time just for us anymore."

A sympathetic chuckle bubbled up unbidden from the very core of your being.

Tilting your head back, you peered up at his striking visage awash in the amber glow of the flickering firelight - admiring the austere cut of those steely features you'd come to love so fiercely.

"Well, we do have a baby to care for now," you teased lightly, tender smile never faltering as you laced your fingers through the dark silk of his tousled locks.

"Even if she's not exactly a normal child...and not our own flesh and blood, I suppose little Emi has been rather excellent practice, hasn't she?"

Kenji absorbed your whimsical riposte in contemplative silence for a lingering beat as a pensive furrow cinched his brow.

You felt him subtly shift closer, scarcely a hairsbreadth of space remaining between your molded silhouettes now while his eyes smoldered with an intensity you couldn't quite parse.

"You..." he rumbled at last in little more than a gravelly murmur thickened with naked emotion.

"You really want kids one day? A family of our own...?"

The fragility of hope bleeding into his beloved baritone caressed something profoundly elemental in your very essence.

Without hesitation, you nodded - tongue darting out to wet your lips in a reflexively unconscious gesture.

"Of course I do, Kenji," you hushed back with a roll of your eyes, though the indulgent teasing underlying your tone was achingly tender and sincere.

Winding your arms around the strong column of his neck, you pulled him instinctively closer with a near-desperate sort of adoration.

"I want to raise our babies - happy, healthy children with a mom and dad that will always be there for them. As many wonderful little ones as we can handle...but only with you, baby."

Kenji let out a shuddering, nearly imperceptible breath at your passionate declaration, eyes falling briefly shut as the profound emotion streaked across those chiseled features in vivid strokes.

For several weighted heartbeats, the only sounds were your mingled pulses thundering in tandem as the revelations of your entwined future dreams sunk in.

Then, there was the first gentlest swell of sultry jazz piped through the living room speakers - the rich, soulful brass curving into existence by some ambient hand like a spirit invocation.

An unexpected accompaniment, but the melancholy melody undulated through the aura surrounding you and Kenji like the physical manifestation of your commingled desires.

As if inexplicably magnetized, you instinctively relaxed further into his solid anchoring - forehead pillowing against his sternum while his chin tucked atop the crown of your head.

One of his palms settled warm and broad against the lower curve of your spine to steady you closer still.

The two of you gradually swaying in unhurried tandem to the sensual pulse of the music safeguarding your profound quiet.

"I want that too, beautiful," your beloved confided reverently amidst the downy swirl of your hair - the words blooming to life like a flower unfurling before the first warming rays of daybreak.

"A real family...happy, healthy babies with your beaming smile to wake up to everyday..."

You felt the tender press of his lips mapping an achingly tender imprint to your crown.

"God, you have no idea how often I've dreamed of that blessed future with you."

Cradling his jaw to guide his features back into your sightline, you simply basked in the naked sincerity swimming in those amber-flecked depths.

No more profound oaths were required in that suspended instance.

Just the seamless glide of your interwoven forms locked in a silent avowal.

Just the lush rhythm of the mournful melody igniting the very air around you like a physically manifested miasma of your eternal and unbreakable devotion.

Gazes smoldering with infinite reverence, you molded your lips to Kenji's in a searing, unhurried sacrament sealing your unified dreams of a lifetime overflowing with life, laughter, and wondrous hope...

[dunebrat]

PAST LOVERS ୨♡୧

Feyd Rautha x reader

Summary : you return to his planet years later to lay your mother to rest, only to find Feyd, once a boy now a man. You struggle to reconcile the memories of the boy you once loved and he is determined to take you back as his.

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As you step off the shuttle onto the dusty surface of Arrakis, memories flood back of your time here, memories filled with warmth and pain, all centered around him, Feyd Rautha. The boy you once knew, the one who captured your heart among the harsh sands of this his planet. Years have passed since you last saw him, since you made the painful decision to leave, to escape. Back then, he was just a boy but he was your first everything, love, kiss he even took your virginity but your family left Arrakis in search of a better life, a life free from the constant danger. As a child, you witnessed firsthand the brutality of life under the rule of the Harkonnens, the constant struggle for survival in their environment.

But it was more than just the oppressive regime that drove your family away. It was the violence. Despite their best efforts to carve out a life for themselves, they knew that staying meant risking everything they held dear. So when the opportunity arose to leave, to seek refuge on a distant planet far from the reach of the Harkonnens, they seized it without hesitation. It was a chance for a new beginning, a chance to leave behind the pain and suffering of their past and start afresh. And though it meant leaving behind everything you knew, everything you loved, you knew deep down that it was the right decision. For the safety and well-being of your family, you were willing to leave behind the only home you'd ever known, to venture into the unknown in search of a better future. But now here you are 7 years later back at your birth place to lay your mother to rest on her planet. She had fell sick a year ago sadly. Grief weighed heavy on your heart, with the bittersweet memories of your childhood on the desert planet.

But as you watch him now, standing tall and commanding, the years have transformed him into a man. His features are chiseled, he’s way taller now, and his aura is so dark. It's both intimidating and mesmerizing. You can't help but notice the change in him, how the years of training under his uncle has hardened him, turned him into someone you barely recognize. Gone is the carefree boy who you thought once loved you. In his place stands a man who is cold and distant. It was as if with each passing day, his uncle's influence seeped deeper into his soul, twisting him into someone unrecognizable.

Yet despite the bitterness that lingers in you, there's still a spark, a connection that refuses to die. As your eyes meet his across the crowded room, you were determined to ignore him, to shut out the memories of your past together and focus on the task at hand. Every time you felt his eyes on you, you forced yourself to look away, to steel yourself against the flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm you. But you couldn't afford to dwell on the past, not when there were more pressing matters to attend to.

And as the days passed, you couldn't shake the feeling that he was watching you. Then, one evening, as you found yourself alone in the dimly lit corridors of the palace, his voice cut through the silence like a knife, sending a shiver down your spine. "I've been looking for you," he said, his tone low and husky.

You turned to face him, your heart pounding in your chest as you met his gaze. There was a hunger in his eyes, a fierce intensity that sent a thrill of anticipation coursing through your veins. You couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement at the sound of his voice after so long apart.

"Feyd," you breathed, your heart pounding in anticipation. He stepped closer to you, his eyes dark and intense as he studied your face. "I've missed you" His words sent a shiver down your spine, and you couldn't help but feel the familiar pull of attraction. He leaned in close to whisper into your ear "I want you."

Seeing him so close you can see he had grown into his features. His body now more muscular and defined than before. He ran his hands down your back as you leaned in to kiss him passionately on the lips.

"No," you said firmly, stepping back to put some distance between you. "This... this isn't right." His expression darkened, a flicker of frustration crossing his features. "What do you mean?" he demanded, his voice tinged with anger.

"I mean," you replied, your voice trembling with emotion, "that I can't just forget everything that's happened between us. I can't pretend like nothing has changed." you say, your voice trembling. He stops in front of you, his eyes burning into yours. You can feel the heat radiating off him, the power and strength that he exudes.

It's almost overwhelming. His eyes darken

"After all the mercy I’ve shown you and your family" he growled

"What do you mean" you squinted confused

"When you left me, I could’ve had you’re whole family killed and you returned to me. But I knew somehow or something would bring you back" He reaches out, his hand wrapping around your throat in an instant. You gasp, the air being cut off from your lungs. He leans in close to you, his breath hot on your face as he whispers into your ear, "You're mine."

You can feel his grip tighten around your throat, cutting off the air to your lungs. You try to gasp for breath but it's no use as he holds you in place with a firm hand on your neck. You can feel your body starting to tremble as the lack of oxygen starts to take its toll. Your vision begins to blur and you start to see spots in front of your eyes, but still he holds on tight.

He lets go and you fall on the ground gasping for air

"He grabs your arm and pulls you up to a standing position, his eyes dark with desire." I'm going to have my way with you again and again until you learn that I own you now" You can feel his hot breath on your neck as he leans in close, and you know what's coming next. He bites down on your neck, his teeth sinking into the flesh. You cry out in pain and pleasure as he sucks hard at the wound, leaving a mark that will be there for days to come.

"I couldn't help but notice," he said, his voice barely a whisper, "how much you've grown, how... how beautiful you've become." his eyes trailing over your body with an intensity

His words caught you off guard, he sounded more calm. "I've missed you," he said softly, his voice laced with longing. "I've missed us. And I'm not willing to let you slip away again."He reaches down and grabs your hips, lifting you up off the ground. You can feel his cock pressing against your entrance as he positions himself to enter you from behind. He thrusts into you, his cock filling you up in one swift motion. You cry out as he starts to fuck you hard and fast, pounding away at your pussy with a fervor that's almost animalistic.

You can feel his cock hitting your cervix with each thrust, and you know that he's going to make you cum hard. He reaches around and grabs your tits, squeezing them hard as he continues to fuck you.

"I want you to have my child". You look up at him with wide eyes, your mouth still full of his cum. He grins down at you," You, little one. Are mine forever and ever."

He’d been thinking about breeding you the second he saw

Defeated you whispered "Im yours, Take me however you want to take me."Just please don't hurt my baby if we make one together" He grins down at you again.

"ll be gentle with you, little one." "I promise."

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